Page 137 of Return To You

“What?” he grunts.

“I love how you… and what you… and everything,” I babble.

“You’re the sexiest thing alive, you know that?” He punctuates his words with a thrust that almost brings me to the edge.

I knead his nape, committing to memory the feel of his muscles rolling under my eager fingers. “You like me? In bed?”

He grunts, picking up his rhythm. “Fuck, babe. Did you hear what I said about you driving me crazy? No joke, you’re all I can think about. You’re the only air I want to breathe. The only battle I want to fight. The only life I want to live. I just wanna stay in this bedroom for the rest of my life, making you come ’til the end of time.”

I come from his words more than from his magnificent cock, pulling him to me with all my strength, feeling him empty himself inside me as he holds me tighter.

After, we stay tangled, our breaths mingled, our heartbeats loud.

forty-four

Ethan

Ialready knew showering with Grace was up there in the top most sensuous experiences. Now I’m discovering it’s also highly entertaining.

Grace sings in the shower. Loud. Totally off key. And totally hilarious.

There’s a theme to her repertoire, and I’m not sure if I should be worried. She wrapped up “Hit the Road, Jack” while I was shampooing her hair, and now she’s on her knees, lathering my balls to some song about a girl carving her name in the leather of some dude’s car, and not as a sweet memento of their undying love.

“You sure ‘bout that song?” I ask.

“It’s Carrie Underwood!” She looks at me like that should settle it. “It’s a classic!”

Oh well, if it’s a classic, then…

We rinse, then she trots out the bathroom, bellowing the lyrics while doing some sort of line dancing routine.

Fucking adorable.

I follow her and tag my jeans from the floor. “Coffee?”

“Sure.” She eyes me top to bottom. “’s long as you don’t wear anything other than those… sinfully-hugging jeans.”

I grab her by the waist and pull her to me. “Sinfully-hugging?”

She smirks and blushes, then shrugs my question away. “It’s in a book I read. Made me think of you.”

I kiss her forehead and let her go, or else we’ll end up in bed again. Not that I mind, but I promised Mom and Dad we’d come spend time with them today. “What kinda books you read, beautiful?”

Another shrug. “Uh, you know, nothin’ serious.”

“Like, what’s the title.”

Her throat bobs and her eyes dart to her night table for a fraction of a second, then she starts making the bed. “I dunno, it’s on my Kindle.”

Taking the other side, I follow her cue of smoothing the fitted sheet, then pulling her fancy duvet up. “So what if it’s on your Kindle?”

“Once you start the book, you don’t see the title. I never know what I’m reading.”

We fluff way too many pillows on top of the bed, then pull up a cute throw. “Well, let’s find out.” I stomp to her side and open the nightstand. “Oh. I didn’t know Kindles came with actual flip pages made of actual paper and glossy thick covers and shit.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, they call it the Krinkle. It just came out.”

I flip through the pages of the paperback, then zoom in on the cover, a slow smile taking a hold of me.

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