Page 21 of No Angels

He looks up at me through his long dark lashes. “I thought I said no more questions.”

“You know I ask questions when I get nervous.”

“You have no reason to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just us. Mike and Bianca. I’ll take care of you.”

I’ve never been able to let go with someone. The only way I’ve ever been able to come is with a vibrator and my imagination. I decide it’d probably be a good idea to manage his expectations. “Guys aren’t usually able to do that with me, so consider yourself warned. I don’t want your ego bruised when this doesn’t end with me screaming your name.”

“Well, I’m going to take my time and make sure that’s not the case. Pretty sure my ego will remain intact.”

He starts exploring again, and the feel of his breath right there, and the stroke of his thumb and the thrust of his finger, like he has all the time in the world and I was made to worship, starts getting to me.

When I roll my hips to chase his caress, his laughter rumbles against me. “Told you,” he murmurs.

He finally tugs my underwear aside and replaces his thumb with his tongue. He sucks me into his mouth, and my clit throbs when he glides the edge of his teeth over it. “Oh my god,” I moan.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t be screaming my name.”

I should correct him. But I don’t. Because he must be a god to make me feel this way. Or maybe it’s because we have this history and he’s been watching me and wanting this our whole lives. He knows exactly how to push me over the edge.

When he thrusts his finger into my channel again, the leg I didn’t even realize I threw over his shoulder starts to quiver. I shatter and my head thuds against the wall. “Holy shit, Callihan,” I mumble when he climbs back up my body and kisses me.

He plants a kiss on each cheek before he presses his lips to mine. The musk of what he just did clings to his beard and I taste it on his tongue. “Told you my ego wouldn’t be bruised.”

He’s so sure of himself. He always has been. It shouldn’t make me want him even more.

“What about you? Think I can rock your world off its axis too?”

He grins into our kiss. “So not only did I prove you had nothing to worry about, I rocked your world.”

“I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” I grumble back.

“Apparently I made it impossible for you to do that. And I’m about to do it again.”

He hefts me over his shoulder in a fireman carry and bounds for the stairs like the house is burning down around us.

I smack the flat of my hand against the curve of his ass, but he just laughs. I give up and grip the cotton of his t-shirt just above his hips.

He stops just inside an open doorway and lets me slide down his body. His cock pulses against my stomach, and I’m standing on his feet. “Look up,” he says.

When I do, my breath catches in my throat. He has a mural on his ceiling. The first image I notice is one of a girl on a swing, her feet pointed toward a blue, blue sky, her head thrown back in laughter. There’s the outline of a boy looking up at her. His face is covered by the shadow she casts, and his hands are clenched at his sides. But you can sense his fierce longing for the girl in every line of his body.

As my gaze sweeps over the rest of it, I have trouble finding words. Every single scene is one of our history.

“You painted us,” I can hear the ragged edge of tears in my voice.

“Because I knew you’d come home someday. I hoped I could show it to you and you’d know that there’s always a place here for you.” He thumps his fist against his heart.

The man is just as sentimental as the boy was, but there’s one big difference. He’s not afraid of what he feels and he’s not waiting until it’s too late to let me know.

I keep my eyes on his and pull the tangle of my t-shirt and bra over my head. “One of us has too many clothes on,” I tell him as I slip a hand beneath his waistband.

“Easily fixed.”

He tugs his shirt up and tosses it behind him.

His body wasn’t carved by a gym. It was carved by checking fence, and climbing scaffolds and taking the tires off tractors. When I flick his abs, they’re like granite.

He has a single tattoo winging over his right shoulder. When I bend close, what I see makes me want to cry again. It’s a tiny bumblebee. I glide my fingers over it.

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