Page 195 of Tell Me Something True

His mouth moved back and forth along the nape of her neck. Moved up to suck at the sensitive spot beneath her right ear. He gently bit the side of her throat, murmuring soothingly when she inhaled at the slight sting, then touched the tip of his tongue to her skin as if to take that sting away.

And while he relearned her body with his fingers and palms, with his lips and teeth and tongue, while he touched every inch of her, including places she couldn’t remember anyone ever touching her before, she learned some things, too.

Things like the underside of her arms and the cleft of her butt were ticklish, and that she had way more erogenous zones than she’d ever realized. Spots like the backs of her knees and the tops of her feet and her ears.

But mostly, she learned that it didn’t matter where or how often Miles touched her, she always wanted more.

Soon enough, she’d been breathing heavily, her body wriggling under those touches.

She’d fought it. Had told herself she’d already come three times, there was no way she’d be able to manage a fourth. That she didn’t need to come again.

That he didn’t need her to.

He’d proved his point well and repeatedly tonight.

She was his.

But then he’d pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers while he’d sucked on her earlobe.

And she’d begged him again. A short, gasping, please that had his hand sliding between her legs.

It hadn’t even mattered that she could feel his smug grin against the side of her neck as he worked her to another earth-shattering orgasm, or that it took him less than a minute to do so.

All that mattered was that when she’d slumped back against him, boneless and completely spent, he’d caught her.

She was starting to believe he’d always catch her.

And that belief wasn’t nearly as terrifying as it should have been.

He’d helped her out of the tub and dried her off. While he dried himself, she wrapped her dripping hair in a clean towel. It was going to be a pain combing through the tangled, non-conditioned strands, but a few stubborn snarls and a bad hair day were small prices to pay for what had transpired in that shower.

Miled then carried her back into the bedroom where he settled her by the end of the bed. He pulled his shirt over her head, tugged on his jeans sans underwear, carefully tucking his erection into them before pulling up the zipper and closing the button. Combed his fingers through his wet hair.

And asked her if she was hungry.

Hadn’t she always known he was too good to be true?

Hadn’t that been why she’d run away from him ten years ago?

But maybe she was worthy of someone like him. Maybe she did deserve to be treated like a queen, to be pampered and pleasured, her thoughts and fears heard and taken seriously.

Maybe she did deserve him.

If she didn’t, maybe she could figure out a way to change that. To become the type of woman who did.

She’d nodded, and he’d lifted her again.

That time, she hadn’t even considered telling him she could walk, just wrapped her arms around his neck and held on.

He’d deposited her on her couch, then got her a glass of water. Told her he’d be back in a few minutes. She’d heard him moving around in her kitchen, and as much as she would have liked to have watched him there, barefoot and bare-chested, she wasn’t sure her ovaries could take any more stimulation.

So she’d tugged his shirt over her bent knees, sipped her water and waited. Five minutes later, he reappeared carrying two of her mismatched cereal bowls. He handed one to her and she sat up to take it. Blinked at the contents. Lifted her head to frown at him in confusion.

“It’s salad.”

And not the kind she made—bagged lettuce topped it with bottled ranch dressing. Which, she’d like to point out, wasn’t fancy, but it was delicious.

The bagged lettuce was there, but so were the leftover grilled portobello mushroom caps and zucchini from dinner tonight, the roasted salmon she’d brought home from their dinner date at Binge two nights ago, and some of the pecans she kept in her snack cupboard, chopped into pieces.

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