I almost start crying right there because this feels so perfect and so forbidden and so lovely I could die.
I rock my hips against his erection.
He lifts his head. “Regina?” he mumbles. He looks at me. His lips parted, his blue eyes glowing, surveying, exploring, probing me. Almost asking me to say the words.
He looks expectant. Warm. Waiting for me to do something.
I just nod. “I want you,” I whisper mischievously in his ear. I take his arm and wrap it around my body.
That was all he needed.
“Regina…” This time it doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a prayer.
It sounds like a growl.
He takes me in his arms and drags me to the edge of the counter, between his parted legs.
He frames my head with his hands and looks at me with those blue eyes.
We look at each other for what feels like years until he reaches out his hand and rubs my chin with his thumb.
I feel a knot in my throat, but I force myself to ignore it.
Why the hell do I want to cry right now? God, Regina, breathe.
Breathe…
I keep telling myself that as I feel him shift above me so the hardest part of him fits right between my legs. I moan.
He drops his head and kisses my collarbone. His lips are incredibly warm and wet, as they trace a leisurely path from my collarbone to my jaw.
He teases his fingers into my sex.
He kisses along my neck, soft, lingering kisses. He traces my lips with the tip of his thumb.
He kisses my chin. My forehead. He rubs his knuckles across my cheek. “You’re so soft…”
He gives me a look that could instantly melt metal before he heads to the bedroom.
I’m dazed, watching as Tahoe lazily walks back to me while tearing open a condom packet.
He swiftly unties the drawstring of his pajama pants, releasing himself. Then he slips on the condom, stands before me, drags me back up against him, crushes my mouth beneath his, and he enters me…and it’s perfect. His voice is rough and smooth at the same time. Dark and light. Thunder and lightning.
I cup his face and force him to look at me as he takes me.
His eyes look incredible. His bearded jaw sexy. His lips wet from sucking on my skin.
I run my fingers through his hair and bring him down to my breast, pulling down the material of my nightie.
The kiss is wet. Raw. Warm.
He lifts his head and pushes his tongue inside my mouth and I practically melt in his arms.
He kisses me for a long time. Sucking my moans into his mouth and getting to know every part of mine as he continues pumping.
He sucks my lower lip into his mouth gently, and bites it with his teeth, and then he takes my mouth and gives me a lazy, long kiss.
I feel incredibly loved.
I feel cherished. I feel adored.
There are no other words for it.
He takes my arms and pins them above my head, clasping both of my hands with one of his.
He runs his other hand down my side, my waist, my hips, until he reaches my knee and grasps it to wrap my leg around his waist, bringing him in deeper.
He kisses down the inside of my arms, which are still held above my head.
He rubs his thumb against my nipples.
He kisses my lips.
He sucks on my neck.
“You’re a fucking dream. You’re a fucking dream and I can’t believe I’m not dreaming you right now,” he whispers.
He slips his hand behind me and cups my bottom and my eyes burn when he uses his hand to pull me, grind me against his cock as he enters again. I roll my hips and take every inch that I can, kissing his face, then kissing a path to his lips.
“You look so fucking gorgeous, I could eat you up,” he growls.
When we come, we come even harder than before, clutching and twisting against each other, our mouths biting and tasting and kissing each other.
When he finally pulls away, I don’t know my name.
I look up at him and we are both quiet.
My heart is beating so hard in my chest. My whole body is vibrating.
He’s breathing hard. His muscles are warm against my body. His hand remains on my lower back, holding me still.
He looks down at me and lays his forehead against mine.
These are the kinds of moments that make you realize that you never really need to hear the words I love you. Right now the words are all over me, all over us, in his touch, his gaze, the way he breathes me in, the way I breathe him too.
We stay that way for a couple of long, exquisite minutes, satisfied, happy. At peace.
When he pulls away I swear he takes a piece of me with him, but he comes back with a boyish smile on his face and gives me my cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Regina,” he finally says.
“Good morning, Tahoe,” I say back.
He winks and leans over to kiss me on my forehead.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks, turning his back to me and taking out some pans.
“Hmm…are we fully stocked? Of course we are. How about…pancakes?”
“Mm…I like how you’re thinking,” he answers. “Pancakes it is.”
After checking the ingredients in the fridge and debating whether we should add blueberries or dark chocolate chips, we decide on both.
We have coffee next to each other on a small breakfast table, the sun coming up through the big windows of the Saints’ house.
We talk about our schedules, trying to figure out if we need to head back today or Sunday.
We settle on Sunday night so we can be at work on Monday…and we can enjoy each other until then.
And when I start flipping pancakes with Tahoe’s hand on my butt and his lips nibbling my ear, I smile the whole time.
It’s still, even now, especially now, so damn easy with him…