Page 17 of Breathe Again

“Pain in my ass,” he was still muttering when I stuck my head around the door.

I laughed again at the sight of his disgruntled face. There was something about him calling me a pain in his ass, while still reaching for me, that made my heart happy. The fact that he still wanted me, even as I irritated him, was reassuring.

He smiled back and handed me in, drawing me close, one hand against my lower back, the other cupping the back of my head. He smiled down into my upturned face.

“Beautiful.”

I snorted but the quick yank of his hand tangling in my hair brought me up short. We locked eyes, and his were snapping.

“Beautiful,” he whispered again, tightening his fist in my hair a tiny bit more, and not breaking my gaze.

Heat hit my core. I whispered my submission. “Okay.”

He relaxed his grip, massaged his fingers into the back of my hair, loosening my updo. He pulled me closer, flattening my breasts against his chest, the hot water trickling around and between us. He dipped his knees and took my mouth, gently, like it was the first time, and he was learning me all over again.

The gentleness was unexpected. My soul sighed, expelling the tension that lived always under my skin, I relaxed in his arms, and gave myself over to his hands, his eyes, and his mouth, with little fight from the critical voice within.

Keeping me pressed against his chest, he retrieved the soap from the shower alcove and rubbed it between his palms behind me before spreading the suds across my back, over my hips, and rounding my bum to rest on the crease where my thigh began, a hot spot of mine.

His coarse stubble abraded my sensitive skin and his mouth moved from my mouth to my jaw, to my neck, the contrast between soft, seeking lips and the sharp prickle of his stubble eliciting a shiver, the deliciousness of it sending tiny shockwaves of pleasure across my breasts and down into my core. I wanted that deliciousness on my breasts, my stomach, and between my thighs.

He turned me in his arms and set me in front of him, caressing my breasts and my belly from behind me. He rounded my stomach and I tensed, I hated his attention on my stomach or my thighs, even with his erection prodding my backside assuring me it was not a problem for him. He stepped back, focusing his attention on my hips and my plump behind.

“I love your curves.”

I tried to turn toward him, but he grasped my hips, keeping my back to him, and directed the spray to rinse off the bubbles. I tried to turn again, and he let me. My turn with the soap.

He stood strong and tall, his heated gaze cast down at me, watching me from beneath half lowered lids. There was no hint of a smile on his handsome face as he watched my hands dragging the soap over his wide chest, massaging it into his strong shoulders,kneading the cords in his arms, reaching around him to do his back, and finally sliding over his ass.

He enclosed me in his arms, bending me backwards slightly over his arm, nuzzling my throat. I hummed. I loved his stubble on my skin.

“C’mon, gorgeous, time to hit the sheets. Stay here until I turn the water off.”

He rinsed off, stepped out of the shower, grabbed his towel, and quickly dried off, then reached in to turn off the water and hand me out. He wrapped me up in my towel and hustled me into our room.

He opened the covers and snatched away my towel.

I squealed, both cold and shy, and jumped into the bed, turning immediately to see his grin, his gaze trained on the spot my bare ass just disappeared from, and his obvious interest, as he followed me under the covers.

I shivered from the cold, cold dispelled by the heat of his body as he covered mine, then rolled to pull me on top of him.

Zale

There were times when it seemed the stars aligned. Mara was happy, laughing, and naked in his arms. It did not get much better than that.

He loved her softness, adored her curves, loved the give of her flesh under his hands. She was not petite, she did not feel frail, he did not have to be overly careful with her, knowing she could take him.

He pushed her up by her shoulders, and set her astride his hips, her hair now hanging in loose curls, the ends damp, over her chest. She looked like some kind of mythical earthy goddess. He grasped her hips, pulled her up, and entered her, slamming her back down. She crossed her arms over her stomach, but he grasped her wrists and spread her hands wide, away from her body. He wanted to see.

“Don’t hide, gorgeous.”

She nodded. She rarely spoke when they made love. She lost herself in pleasure like nothing he’d ever seen. She was good for his ego, the way she undulated under his hands, under his mouth, the breathy sighs and little moans that escaped her lips.

He wished he had the energy to be this for her all the time, but it was impossible. Never mind. He had her now, and he’d make it count.

Just Not That Type

Mara

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