Page 20 of Seeking Shelter

“You want to be with me, Angel?”

Releasing me, she props herself up, her nod of consent barely perceptible in the dim light. I inhale sharply.

“Maybe I should be asking you,” she murmurs, “since you’re the one who ran scared that first time.”

“Not scared. Responsible.” Which even to my own ears sounds asinine. “I want this. But only if you want it just as bad.”

With a finger she traces my brow, my cheekbones, the line of my jaw. The simple sweetness of her touch leaves me undone.

Leaning forward with her lips a breath from mine, she says, “Oh yeah, Jonah. I want you.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Evangeline

Our lips collide, Jonah’s hunger matching mine. All the yearning I’ve pushed back over the years explodes through me. I’m here with Jonah Cooper, and it couldn’t feel more right.

Holding my face bracketed in his hands, he looks into my eyes until I feel like he’s reading my very soul. “There you are,” he murmurs. “The Angel I’ve been waiting for.”

I swallow against the unexpected tightness in my throat. With my brothers, sometimes I haven’t always felt seen. But Jonah sees me. I feel like he’s stripped away the layers and still likes what he finds.

I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my face there, and hold on tight. He strokes my back, nuzzling with nose and lips along my forehead, my temple, behind my ears. Then the tenor of his touch shifts, becomes more purposeful, more arousing.

Sitting up, blanket around my shoulders, I straddle his hips. With my hand under the thermal material, I find smooth skin and a sprinkling of hair over taut muscles. He sits up, pulling off his shirt, then mine. We both smell pretty earthy, but I don’t care. I love the sensation of his calloused hands on my breasts.

He feasts, his mouth moving over my throat, my neck, the swell of my breasts. It feels like we’re swirling in a maelstrom of sensation. Hands, mouths, fingers all moving, tantalizing, soothing.

I slip my fingers through the hair on his chest, stroking the cleft of muscled pectorals. The hollow of his neck tastes salty. He tightens his hold and uses open-mouthed kisses to feast on my breasts while I grind against his impressive erection.

“Oh yeah,” I murmur, then shift to reach under the elastic waistband to take hold.

“Jesus,” he grinds out. “Keep doing that and I’ll come in about three strokes.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask innocently.

“Not gonna until you’re there too,” he murmurs. We get rid of the remainder of our clothing and he moves down my body, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Uh-uh, big boy. Not doing that when I’m going on day three without a shower.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.” I catch my breath when his fingers stroke through my slick folds. I’m so sensitized to his touch, like him, it’ll only take a few strokes and I’ll be there. “Oh my god, Jonah. You’re really good at this.”

He surges in my hand as I stroke him. Then he stills. “Fuck. I don’t have a condom.”

I can’t stop a giggle. “You’re finally where I want you and you have to go and be responsible again.”

“It’s not funny, woman. And don’t move,” he says sharply when I do just that. “I want to fuck you blind and I’m right on the razor edge of doing just that.”

All desire to laugh evaporates. “Oh my, yes, that sounds exactly right. You don’t have one in your wallet?”

“I stopped carrying around a condom years ago.” His voice sounds like gritty sandpaper.

All the while we’re talking his hand is moving, fingers stroking, winding me tighter.

“I’m on—” I break off when he dips a long finger inside me and every cell in my body focuses on the delicious sensation. “I’m on the pill,” I manage to get the words out. “And clean. I mean, I’m clean.”

He strokes again and I convulsively grip his erection, my thumb spreading the bead of moisture over the crown.