Page 97 of Goode Tidings

She's looking at the ceiling. "Am I ending a dry spell for you? I assumed I was, I guess with the way you've talked it seems like it, but um, I don't know. It's ok if I'm not, I'm just curious."

I hear the way she's trying to sound like it doesn't matter to her. The simple answer is yes, but that's not enough.

I lower my head back to her chest. Capture her nipple. Nibble. Flick. Suck. Kiss. Eden moans. When I'm through for the moment, I release her. "You're ending a physical dry spell. But other dry spells, too. Mental. Emotional."

She rakes her nails over my scalp. "For me, too."

I press kisses down the centerline of her body. On the inside of each knee. Keep my eyes on her face as she watches me slowly make my way to where we both know she needs it. To where I need it.

She groans indecently when my mouth melts against her. I cup my hands under her ass, lift her, angling her up to me. Her hands find my hair, nails raking over my back. It's wild how much she enjoys this, but I understand, because it was her making me feel this good a handful of minutes ago.

I settle in, prepared to take my time and learn what she likes, but Eden throws a hand over her mouth and yells a bitten off version of my name. Her thighs tremble around my head, back arched off the bed.

I'm smiling when I come back up over her. She manages a lazy, sated grin. One arm reaches out blindly to open the nightstand, and she brings out the box of condoms.

I waste no time ripping one open, sheathing myself. Then I lie down on her, protecting her from my full weight with a forearm on the bed. I cup her lovely face, kiss her smart mouth.

"Are you ready?"

She nods, her hair a halo. With the tip of my nose to hers, I reach between us, line myself up, and press inside.

CHAPTER 45

Eden

Unspooling.

That's the feeling in my heart as Callum slides inside me. Everything in me settles. A reprieve. Right now it's only me and him, and this thing we're doing with our bodies.

"You take me so well," he murmurs against my mouth as he pulls out, then back in. All the way. No space left between us.

He's right. I do. This doesn't feel like sex because we want to have sex. This feels like sex because we want to share something with each other. An intimacy. Memories. Our hearts.

I swallow down his words. Run my hands over his back, softly scratch my nails through the stubble on his jaw. He is heavy in the cradle of my legs, his tongue licking into my mouth.

"Eden," he grunts as his pace quickens, losing the unhurried rhythm, becoming wilder. A little messy, and desperate.

"Callum," I answer, matching his pace, wrapping my legs around his lower back.

He gazes down at me. Lust, and need, but also a ray of tenderness shines in his eyes. "I need you to come for me one more time. I want to feel you on me."

"You don't have to...I don't need to⁠—"

"Hush," he says, his stubble coarse against my neck. He pulls away, only to reach down between us, to where we're connected, dragging two knuckles over where I'm still sensitive.

That little bit of space gives me the opportunity to see more of him. His muscles, coiled tight, ripple with use. I exercise enough to fuck and fight.

The memory of those words, the punch of his hips, the firm set of his jaw, and those rough knuckles against my sensitive skin is enough to end me. The pleasure grips me by the throat, my hips bucking as I take everything Callum gives. His body, his heart, the lustful adoration in his eyes as he watches me work through my second orgasm.

"Sometime, I'll have you watch yourself do that," he grinds out, his pace becoming rough. "You look fucking lovely when you come." Our bodies slide against each other, the heat of the room adding to the warmth we're generating. We're slick, and panting, and untamed.

My limbs are useless, exhausted, but my knees are knocked wide, offering myself so Callum can take, take, take.

His brow furrows and his back muscles bunch under my hands. His dark hair damp at his temples as he rears up over me, mouth working in a silent groan, as he finds his pleasure.

He collapses beside me, rolling onto his back and bringing the sheet up to his hips. We have swollen lips and wear lazy, satisfied smiles. Hair pressed down in some places and sticking up in others.

I trace a design on Callum's chest, and he threads his fingers through mine. He gives my hand a little squeeze, rubbing his thumb along my skin. There's nothing more to say. We've said it all.