Page 80 of Love Him Like Water

“Come here, mouse,” he demanded.

I’m almost embarrassed at how quickly I curled into him, resting my head on his chest, hearing the heartbeat under my ear as his warmth enveloped me.

Renzo reached down, pulling the heating pad back into place, then wrapping one arm around my lower back as the other one slipped upward to start to gently massage my scalp like he knew I loved so much.

Before I knew it, I was drifting off to sleep wrapped in the arms of the man I loved way more than was good for me.

__

It was the next day, as I was making myself tea on the stove in a saucepan because we didn’t have a kettle, when the door suddenly flew open with enough force to make it knock against the wall.

I jumped, my hand shooting out for, I don’t know, something to defend myself with, I guess, before I saw Renzo storming into the apartment.

His spine was ramrod straight, his shoulders tense, and I saw the muscle ticking in his jaw as he turned away from me, charging toward the bar.

The glass slammed onto the bar top with enough force that I was surprised it didn’t splinter apart.

Reaching over, I turned off the water as I watched my husband pour a glass of whiskey, throw it back, then refill it.

It did nothing to soften the sharp edges of his frustration.

I had no clue what could manifest such a strong reaction in a man who seemed so in control of himself all of the time. But I had to imagine it was something serious if it had Renzo home before the sun even went down.

Renzo threw back his second drink, refilled it, then took his glass over toward a chair in the living room. The same one he’d pulled me down on when I’d been drunk and dizzy.

I stood there for a moment as he stared down at the ground, trying to figure out what I could say or do. Especially after he’d been so sweet with me the night before.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he dug it out, staring at it, then tossing it.

My heart jumped as it skittered across the table, then dropped to the floor.

Still unsure what to do, but knowing he needed some sort of comfort, I made my way into the living room, fetching his phone, and placing it on the table, then standing in front of him.

Feeling painfully awkward, I reached out, placing my hand over his on the arm of the chair, watching as his gaze flicked up to mine, seeing the fire simmering behind his eyes.

“What can I do?” I asked, voice soft as he watched my face.

“Nothing,” he said after a minute, shaking his head as if he needed to knock a pesky thought loose.

“Renzo…” I said, voice soft.

Renzo sucked in a deep breath.

Then, voice a rough, sexy shiver, he said, “Do you want to learn to suck my cock, mouse?” he asked.

Before I could even wrap my head around the words, though, my body reacted, my sex clenching hard in anticipation.

Sure, Renzo had been incredibly giving in the oral sex department, but I’d never been able to get up the nerve to try, too insecure about doing it wrong. And Renzo had never pressed or asked or seemed upset about not getting it.

So I never really understood why he seemed so turned on by the idea of going down on me. Until the ache was throbbing through my own body as I stood there in front of him.

Objectively, I knew that, were I not on my cycle, that he would likely already have me on his lap or bent over, and be surging inside of me.

But that wasn’t an option.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yeah?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. “You don’t have to,” he added.

---