“You taste so fucking good, Natalie,” he mumbled againsther. “I want to eat you up.”
His words alone sent her into orbit, and her orgasm crashedover her before it could even build. But he didn’t wait for her to come downthis time. He reared up in all his glory and snagged a packet from the cornerof the bed, sheathing himself in the time it took herto blink. Condom ninja.
His hot, wet mouth was back on hers, and she wrapped herlegs around his hips. He shifted his weight to one beefy arm and, with theother, positioned her how he wanted. One thrust, and he plunged inside her witha rumbling groan, pulling a gasp from her lungs.
He stopped moving. Uncoupling his mouth from hers, he lockedeyes with her, his breathing labored, his fingertips dancing over her face. “Isthis okay?”
She nodded, speechless, adjusting to the sensation of himinside her while drowning in his eyes. Everything about him rocked her, set herablaze. She was suspended between this world and a world she’d never been tobefore.
Holding her gaze, he withdrew slowly, his tip not quiteclearing, then drove into her again with a raspy,“Holy shit!” Dropping his head into the crook of her neck, he flexed his hips,moving inside her with a steady rhythm, picking up speed and intensity. Shegrabbed his ass like she was hanging onto a bronc.Another orgasm blossomed, gathering steam with his pounding thrusts.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Natalie,” he gritted. “You feelfucking incredible.”
That did it.
She came apart, shattered, wentover a cliff with a cry, fireworks filling her head. His shouts joined with hersuntil they were a guttural, exploding, carnal chorus.
When she came to, she was dragging in breath, her chestslick against his, and he was panting against her neck. She turned and openedher eyes. He was staring at her. One side of his mouth curved up.
“My God, woman!”
“Not God. Just Natalie.” She let out a laugh. “What was that?”
“In-fucking-credible, that’s what it was.”
Their breathing calmed, and he swept her hair from her face.She basked in the tenderness shining in his eyes. “You are amazing, NatalieAmber Eyes.” He laid sweet kisses over her forehead, on her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks.
She smoothed his hair. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
A quick kiss, and he got up to dispose of the condom. Whenhe returned, he climbed into bed and spooned her, wrapping her up in big,strong arms. She settled against him as though cuddling under a quilt.
“Maybe we can do that again sometime,” she hummed.
“How about fifteen minutes from now?” he murmured, snugglingagainst her back, kissing her shoulder. A simple, sweet,intimate gesture. She drifted off in a sea of warm contentment.
When she next woke, a dog was licking her hand and predawnlit her window. T.J. slept soundly beside her, his hand palming her ass. Henever asked to spend the night, and she never invited him. It just happened,like it had always been that way. Easy, natural.
She rolled out of bed, threw on her robe, and padded to theback door to let Ford out. When she returned, T.J. was propped up on hiselbows, curl-tousled and sleepy-eyed. His face lit up when he saw her, and herheart cartwheeled.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep on you, sweetheart. I must’ve beenmore tired than I realized.”
Sweetheart. The endearment warmed her to her toes.She leaned down and kissed him. “It’s okay. You can make it up to me.”
“How about right now?” He tugged her robe open and slid hiswarm, rough hand inside.
God, she loved his big hands on her. Hiseyes on her. Him on her. She could getused to this.
.~* * * ~.
Their lovemaking was languid andlong as they explored the landscape of one another’s bodies. Though they’dexplored plenty the night before, this morning’s pace was a one-eighty, andNatalie reveled in the slow, deep rhythm thrumming between them. This was newfor her, striking this achingly intimate chord with a lover. They could’ve beentwo parts of the same instrument vibrating in concert. A perfect fit. Hemust’ve felt it too.
Countless orgasms and hours later, they lay with their limbsintertwined, her head lolling on his chest. He separated her strands with hisfingers, examining each one as though it were spun from gold.
“Your hair has so many different shades,” he said withwonder.
She lifted her head and rested her chin on his tattooed pec. “The artist’s perspective?”
“Artist?” he scoffed. “Hardly. Just a guy who’s fascinatedby all the colors in your hair.” He grinned at her. “And eyes.” He ran afingertip over the bridge of her nose. “And freckles.”
“I don’t have freckles.” She raisedup and lightly tapped his tattoo. “Am I ever gonnahear what’s behind this beautiful design?”
“What do you want to know?” He sat up, reached for a waterbottle on the nightstand, and guzzled it.
Mesmerized, she watched his neck muscles ripple as theyshipped the liquid down his throat. Her eyes swept his chest and shoulder.“Where does it start?”
He pointed at his bicep and the tip of a wing comprised ofred and blue feathers. The wing swept up his shoulder where it seemed to sproutfrom a bird’s green body immersed in flames.
“A phoenix,” he explained. “For rebirth. Rising up afterannihilation.” His finger tracked from his shoulder to his chest, and now shesaw the bird’s head holding a pocket watch in its beak. The short hand pointedto a Roman numeral twelve, with the long hand positioned about quarter past.“Twelve-seventeen,” he said. No other explanation.
Clutched in the bird’s talons was a perfect red rose with athorny vine that wound around the bird’s feet and a heart resting atop thescroll. The thorns punctured the heart in several places. “The rose means loveand balance, and the thorns are for recklessness, loss, and defense. And thescroll you already know.”
“No excuses.” She stared at the intricate design, entranced,her fingertips trailing over it. “Bleak and beautiful at the same time.”
He answered with a single nod.
“Hopeless and hopeful.” She flicked her eyes to his. “Whatdoes twelve-seventeen signify? When your
