Page 159 of Love Me Reckless

Awful because someone he cares about is hurt.

Grateful because of his instinct to protect me. It could have been him on the floor, the blood pooling around him.

When we pull into the driveway, Sawyer’s phone rings.

He checks the screen for the caller ID and gulps a breath before answering.

The voice on the other end of the line sounds tinny and fast. Sawyer’s shoulders sag and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you for calling,” Sawyer says, his voice thick with loss.

He tucks his phone into his pocket. “He’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Sawyer jumps down and walks around the front to greet me, lifting me down with both hands on my waist. We hold each other for a long moment, and then he carries me inside.

The house is warm, like it’s been waiting for us. We leave our shoes by the door and I help him with his coat.

“Come with me,” I say, and lead him down the hall, ignoring the throb in my ankle.

It’s my turn to take care of him.

Inside the bedroom, our things are just as we left them, but they look foreign, like they belong to someone else.

I pause at the bed to tug off his thick sweater. His eyes are that same calm edged with sorrow that thickens the lump in my throat. He helps me with my clothes, which we discard in a pile at the foot of the bed. I take his hand and walk him into the big shower.

When the hot water rains down, he pulls me into his arms. I hold him, my cheek pressed to his chest, the gooseflesh on our skin softening in the steam. He caresses down my bare back, his rib cage expanding into my chest with his slow breaths. I fill my palm with soap and lather it over his shoulders and neck, then down his arms and over the rug burn on his knuckles.

“Close your eyes,” I rock to my tippy toes on my good foot so I can reach the crown of his head. I scrub with my fingertips while he grips my waist, like he needs me to keep him steady.

When I turn him to the water, he leans back, the hard planes of his face softening as I rinse, running my fingers through his thick hair.

“Your turn.” His smile is tentative, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes. I want it to mean that he’s coming back to me.

He scrubs my hair, taking his time, using too much shampoo.Closing my eyes heightens the sensation of his caring touch, the water cascading down my back, the soap tickling my skin. He conditions my hair and rinses again, combing through the long strands until the water runs clear. I arch back to rinse my face. I feel his lips on my neck, the brush of his stubble along the edge of my jaw as he squeezes my earlobe with his teeth. A jolt of desire pierces my core, sending a gentle warmth through me. He wraps his arms around my waist, his erection firm and hard against me, his kisses turning hungry.

He traces my collarbone with kisses, then my shoulder, then down to my breasts.

He sighs, closing his eyes as he teases me, his lips so soft and wet. Tingles dance across my skin, the sense of delicate surrender rising through me. He shuffles me backwards to the wall, the thick glass blocks cold on my warm skin, drawing goosebumps. My breaths hitch in my throat as I pull him to me, my craving like a wild thing rousing from a deep sleep. Our lips touch, and I savor his tenderness, his vulnerability. Our tongues swirl and tease in a tempting dance, the heat of his body against mine creating a powerful hunger.

He kisses down, dropping to his knees and parting me with his tongue. Tremors rattle through me, the pleasure so intense. I steady myself against the wall with one hand and grip his hair with the other.

He groans, the vibrations humming through me. His tongue is relentless, drawing every ounce of pleasure from my body. I come with a cry, his name on my lips, shuddering from the waves of shock and joy exploding inside me. Sawyer plants quick kisses up my body, lifting me off my feet, pinning me to the glass.

His eyes are tense with need. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

Emotions take flight inside me as I caress his face. “Just being you. That’s enough.”

He kisses me, his lips lingering on mine. And then he arches hisbody so he’s pressed against me. I wrap my legs around him, the anticipation sharp and unrelenting, like a physical pain.

“Sawyer,” I say on a groan.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he says, driving inside, bringing all my cravings to life. The fullness of him is perfect, exactly what I need.

“This okay?” he asks, cupping my thighs, bringing us closer.

I open my mouth but the words melt on my tongue as he touches the deepest part of me. “Yes,” I pant. “More.”

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