"Relief is only one tiny part of it, Grace," he murmured into my hair.
"Tell me." In my head, it was a politely spoken request, but it came out as a demand. One that made him chuckle.
"Only a few of the things I'm feeling right now are appropriate to say out loud, Pretty Girl."
Tell me about it, I thought as I filled my lungs with his addictive scent. The things I was feeling—surrounded by him—involved things like rings and weddings and babies and happily ever after and fate. A crystal-clear snapshot of what I wanted life to be like with him, watching sunsets and smelling mountain air while we drank coffee side by side. Absolutely nothing I could admit to him.
The flip side of the coin was dirtier, to be sure. It was the side of me that wanted to rip his shirt off with my teeth and sink the sharp edges of my fingernails into the hot flesh that he was hiding from me. The side of that wanted him to shamelessly display how strong he was by tossing me onto the bed, turning with me rough hands and whispered words into whatever position he desired. Wanted to play out a few choice scenarios to see if this love curse thing also translated to life-altering sex.
Goodbye, tepid, you no longer have a place in my universe.
"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He tightened his hold on me, and I had to close my eyes at how good, how so very good it felt. When weighted blankets became the biggest it thing, I'd rolled my eyes at the thought of someone who'd pay two hundred dollars to be pinned into place.
But I got it now. Bracketed with muscles and bone like his, wide as a tree trunk and strong as an ox, I could've slept like that for two days straight.
Lifting my chin a touch, I pressed my lips against the place where his pulse thundered steadily. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that rush of blood screaming my name as it raced through his veins, just like my body seemed to be calling his.
Buh-boom.
Buh-boom.
Buh-boom.
Tucker.
Tucker.
Tucker.
I nuzzled my face up and found his lips again, suddenly desperate for the way he devoured me with his kiss. He breathed me in, moving into a perfect lift and nudge underneath me while his tongue licked into my mouth.
Sweat dotted the back of my neck as the kiss got deeper, hotter, wetter, dirtier. All I needed was this kiss, and I could live forever. A drop of perspiration slid down my spine when his hands dug shamelessly into the back of my shorts and helped move me against him with hard fingers against soft skin.
My entire body tightened as I moved over top of him, my hips restless, my breasts heavy and aching.
The world spun when Tucker lifted, turning me so my back was on the couch and he had me pinned into the cushions with the full weight of his body.
"Yes," I hissed, arching up, my knees tucked against his side as he did some hip-rolling of his own.
I was ready, so ready, that a single touch of his hand in any number of places on my body would trigger the explosion that would fling me up into the stratosphere.
"I knew it would be like this," he groaned against my mouth, his hands searching and holding and gripping any part of me he could find.
I whimpered when he shoved his hand underneath my shirt and traced the edge of my lace bra.
"So did I," I admitted, my chin tilting up to the ceiling and breathing unsteadily through the feelings taking control of my body. They were raw and jagged and dangerous, the high that a junkie craves, that an addict would sell their soul for. And we were still clothed, for shit's sake. If I got this man naked over me, I might actually die from pleasure. "I imagined you just like this," I said after I bit down on his lip. "Over me, holding me down inside your truck while you moved between my legs. The very first day, I saw it in my head, and I hated you for it."
Tucker hissed through gritted teeth, eyes black in his face, a wild flush on his cheeks as he stared down at me with an expression that couldn't be described as anything other than worshipful, decadent, insane with desire. Dirty as all hell.
His mouth opened, and my breath caught with anticipation of what he'd say.
That's when the door opened. "Saw your light on, sweetpea—" Aunt Fran slapped a hand over her eyes when she saw what was happening on my couch. "Oh, my good heavens, oh my gosh," Aunt Fran mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Grace and …"
Tucker flew off me to the opposite side of the couch and I struggled to sit up and tug my shirt into place.
My aunt dropped her hands and pinned Tucker with an incredulous stare. "Tucker Haywood, what in sweet merciful heaven are you doing here?"
Her mom voice was fully activated, and it caused any desire pulsing through my body to shrivel up and die.
"Well, ma'am," he started, standing from the couch with a wince, hands cupped over his impressive display, "I came to see Grace."
I stifled a hysterical giggle as it crawled up my throat.
"I know that," she said calmly, "but if you're running around on that girlfriend, you've got no place thinking about my niece. I never pegged you as a man who'd disrespect two good women like that."
Oh. Right.
Tucker's face smoothed out into a placid mask. No hands were required to hide anything anymore, because if there was anything that could kill a good
