Page 194 of Tell Me Something True

He looked like a man on a mission.

“And this,” he murmured, as he slid off the bed and knelt between her knees, “is how you build it up again.”

Then he slipped his hands under her thighs and dragged her slowly, slowly toward him. Settled one of her legs, then the other, on his broad shoulders.

With his eyes glinting with promise, his grin wicked with intent, he pressed his hot, wet mouth to her pussy.

Chapter 38

If there was one thing Tabitha had been reminded of over the past hour, it was not to underestimate Miles Jennings.

He was a man who not only went after what he wanted but, more often than not, got it.

Tonight was no exception.

He’d wanted to take from her until she begged him to stop. Something she hadn’t thought possible, not when Miles was doling out earth shattering orgasms like they were candy being tossed from a parade float.

Then she’d ended up begging anyway.

Not to stop.

She wasn’t an idiot.

But she had begged him. More than once.

The first time being when he’d feasted on her pussy with long, leisurely licks that had, indeed, taken her right back to that sharp edge of need.

To the edge, but not over.

He’d teased and tormented her until she’d been a writhing, pleading mass. When he finally took pity on her and moved that magic mouth to suck on her clit while shoving two fingers inside her, she’d come with such force, her body bowing and shaking uncontrollably, she’d whacked him on the cheek with her knee hard enough to leave a mark.

If the smug look on his face had been anything to go by, he hadn’t minded.

The second time she’d begged was in the shower fifteen minutes later.

Oh, not at first. At first, there’d been nothing sexual about the way he’d lifted her in his arms as if she weighed next to nothing and carried her into her cramped bathroom.

She told herself she’d been too spent to resist, her legs still too weak and unsteady for her to walk on her own, but the truth was, she’d never had a man carry her before. Not the way Miles did it. Cradled in his arms like she was something precious.

Something worth holding on to.

He’d carefully set her on her feet next to the ancient pedestal sink, then started the shower. Waited until the water was warm before helping her step over the edge of the tub and into the spray.

Then he’d stepped in behind her, reached around her for her shower pouf, squirted her shower gel onto it.

And washed her.

Like she’d done to him in his shower all those weeks ago.

Even now, curled up at the end of her lumpy couch wearing only Miles’s shirt, she couldn’t believe it.

No one had ever taken care of her like that.

He’d even washed her hair, massaging her scalp as if there was nothing he’d rather do more.

After her hair was rinsed and her body squeaky clean, he’d gently turned her and lifted her arms over her head to press against the shower wall. Kissed her other shoulder. “Want to relearn you. Want to know every inch of you.”

His touch changed. Went from soothing to arousing, even as it remained tender. His slick hands skimmed over every inch of her, gliding across her shoulders, trailing down her spine. His fingers skimmed down the backs of her legs, traced the bumps of her ankle bones. His palms cupped the underside of her breasts. Slid down, covering her ribs.

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