She’s someone whose wedding I helped plan—long story.
She’s someone I met when I went home to a town I thought I’d left behind forever.
She’s a quilter and a shop owner.
She’s feisty and joyful and stubborn and indomitable and sexy?—
Fay is staring at me. And all at once, I’m pretty sure I know the answer. The only possible answer. It might be a cruel thing to say to a woman I was almost engaged to. I’m not sure. I only know that it’s true.
“I think,” I say carefully, “she’s the one who’s going to change my mind about marriage.”
She grins. “I’m happy for you.”
“I didn’t think that person existed,” I say. “The one who could change my mind.”
“Yeah,” she says, and her grin gets even bigger. “I guess we don’t until we meet them.”
46
Rhys
Islip my key into the lock of Quinn and Sonya’s guesthouse, turn it, and push the door open.
It takes me a moment to register the sound I’m hearing, but the instant I get it, I go hot over all, my cock flushing thick with need.
It’s been a long day of travel, and until a second or two ago I was mostly dreaming of a quick shower and some takeout, but now all my attention is on the soft rush of water in my bathroom?—
She’s in there, taking a shower.
Using the showerhead on herself.
I’d kept Eden updated on my travel progress, told her when I’d be back, and this was her idea of a greeting.
I’m a lucky, lucky man.
I knock on the bathroom door. “Honey,” I call, “I’m home.”
Her voice, when it comes, is husky. “I’m in here,” she says. “Join me.”
I’m already shucking my clothes.
She has the detachable nozzle in one hand when I step into the shower. I take it from her and hang it up. “I want to do that with my mouth,” I tell her.
“You won’t get an argument from me,” she says, and she slides into my arms, warm and slippery and already soft and pliable with pleasure.
I hold her for a long time. It’s only been two days, but it feels so good to have her back. We stand under the water together, and she tilts her mouth up and I take it (mine, mine, mine). I lick into the softness of her, imagining doing the same to her pussy a few minutes from now, and she kisses back, all yielding and needy whimpers. My cock bobs between us, hard, and she rubs her belly across it, and then, when I grunt, does it again, pushing harder.
“Let me just?—”
I rush through shampooing my hair, and then she wants to soap me up, so I let her, loving her hands all over my skin, the care she takes with me, like I’m something precious. I do the same to her, being careful not to get soap anywhere it might sting, making sure my hands are clean before I slip two fingers inside her pussy to see where her playing has gotten her. Her muscles clench around my fingers, and oh, my God she’s strong and wet and I curl my fingers to draw cries out of her, being careful to work her close to climax but not all the way there because I meant what I said. I want to lick her over the edge; I want to suck her clit until she can’t help rubbing herself against my face.
I scoop her up, deposit her on the bathmat, towel us both dry, and then carry her to the bed, where I lay her out in front of me, like a feast. I kneel between her legs and kiss the insides of both thighs, and she shudders hello and lifts her hips, begging with her body.
She is so fucking soft against my tongue. Pure silk. For a while all I can do is worship there, tasting her, feeling that silk. Then I return to my senses and remember that this is for her, not me, and I tease around her opening with a single finger, watching as she tries to fuck herself onto it. I lick circles around her clit, lick her hard with the flat of my tongue, press my whole mouth against her and feel her push back. And then she’s rubbing herself against my face, whimpering, trying to get more.
That’s when I suck, and Eden’s hips buck off the bed. She lets out a broken cry of pleasure, and she’s coming, grabbing my hair,hurtingme in the best possible way, telling me to please, please, please fuck her with my tongue, my fingers, my cock, please, please,please.
I don’t.
