Page 70 of Coming Up Roses

“You sure?” he pants, pushing his hips into mine.

“A hundred and ten percent,” I whisper-moan.

“We do this, you’re mine, darlin’.”

“I’m already yours, Cash.”

Just like that, we’re a flurry of limbs, pulling at one another’s clothes until there’s nothing between us. The feel of him, of his skin, has me drunk—floating, flying . . . falling.

Cash stops, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and one under my legs, and he lifts me from the couch like it’s nothing. “Where’re we going?” I pant.

“Want you here, darlin’,” he tells me as he gently sets me on his bed. He stands at the end of the bed, staring at me like I’m the most precious thing. Like I’m delicate and fragile, but I’m not. I want his rough side. I need it.

“I’m not gonna break, Cash,” I tell him as he gently runs his strong hands up and down my calves.

“I know that, Myla.” He places a soft kiss to my right calf and then another to my left thigh. He pauses, level with my belly button, and holds my eyes before placing a soft kiss on my rounded belly. “That’s mine too.” I swear, this man, he is so much more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

He drops small kisses all along my chest and neck before finally making it back to my lips. He groans as he pushes into me, and oh, my stars . . . I know that I’m ruined for any other man. Cash is using his body to take mine to places I’ve never been. With every shift and every thrust, this man is moving heaven and earth, all for my pleasure.

“Never felt this good, darlin’.”

“No. Never,” I whine as I fall apart beneath him, all shuddered breaths and soft moans.

“Goddamn, Myla, so good,” he growls, following after me.

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