Page 51 of Waiting for Tuesday

I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation—or that I was enjoying it so much, but I found myself enjoying everything I did with John, talking, touching, breathing.

“Did you notice, Tuesday?”

I shook my head, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks once more. “Well, it all happened so fast.”

He nodded, stepping closer, and took my hand. “I think we’ll go slower tonight.”

He threaded his fingers through mine, turned around, and started walking down the hall.

“Youthink?” I laughed.

He pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door. “Yeah. I’m afraid that’s all I can promise right now. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life, and I don’t know how this is going to go.”

The way he said it made my stomach flutter. He was so stinking adorable; I couldn’t help myself from grinning like an idiot. He looked at me like he was a little boy in a candy store, and I was his favorite variety.

He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in the hamper. “If I was patient, I’d take ashower, offer you dinner, and make you a drink, but I’ve never been a patient man, and I’ve already reached my limit today.” He stepped closer, wrapped his arms around my waist, and pressed his lips to my neck. “I hope you like it dirty.”

My knees went weak. Oh my God. He had barely touched me but my panties were already soaked. My back fell against the wall, he closed the gap between us, pinning my hands above my head, and I wanted to scream.Yes!I like things dirty! Hard, sloppy, anything—as long as you’re the one doing it.But his lips were moving down my throat, stealing my breath, and all the thoughts slipped right out of my head.

His hands came to the bib of my overalls, unfastened each clasp, and let them drop to the floor. Without removing his lips from my body, he lifted me in his arms, carried me over to the bed, and lowered me to the mattress. “God, you’re beautiful.” He unfastened the button of his jeans, and I pulled my shirt over my head.

He said he’d lost patience, but I was worse. Never in my life had I wanted sex as badly as I wanted it now. I wanted him to touch me, to have him on top of me, to have him inside me.

He discarded his pants on the floor, sans underwear, and I lifted my eyebrows to let him know I noticed. And boy did I notice. He pulled a condom from the top drawer of his nightstand, grinning as he crawled up the mattress.He was perfect. Sexy as hell, funny, and even though the lights were still on, he made me feel so comfortable I didn’t try to shield my body even once. I felt beautiful when he looked at me.

He climbed over me, pushed my panties down my legs so nothing but skin was between us. Warm, dirty, delicious skin. I opened my legs, allowing his hips to settle between my thighs, and his expression hardened a bit. “I was wrong, Tuesday. I can’t go slow.”

His mouth found mine again, and his tongue plunged inside with an urgency that made me cry out.

His hand wedged between our bodies, and his fingers moved down, slowly, until he found me wet, slick, and ready. He groaned into my mouth then lifted his hips, positioned himself at my entrance, and pushed inside.

I arched my back, determined to take all of him. His head came to rest on my shoulder, and I grabbed his arms, kissed his neck, tasting the sweat, his salty skin, and him. The him I couldn’t get enough of. The him I would take any way I could. I didn’t even care that he hadn’t taken a shower, that we were both dirty from a long day of work. In some way, it made things hotter, sexier, knowing that he wanted me so much that even a shower was too much time to ask.

He slammed into me, making me cry out from the force of it. He did it again, over and over, ravaging me, causing waves of pleasure to echo from the walls of my body. His fingers came between us, massaging me, adding more pressure, pushing me closer to the edge of a crazy, primal release. His thumb found the nub at my center, adding the perfect amount of pressure to my clit. His teeth sunk into my shoulder, and his body stiffened—and—and—I lost it.

Everything shattered inside me, my legs began to shake, but I forced them to hold on just a second longer. He pressed into me one last time then stilled, heavy, warm, dirty, and perfect…

I pulled in a breath, then another, and my shoulders relaxed into the mattress a little more with each wave of my orgasm. Until my body became…thoroughly, completely, and utterly…limp.

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

Tuesday

* * *

An hour later, exhausted and sore—in the most perfect way possible—we lay in bed. My chest to his, his arms around my back, my ear pressed to his skin, listening to his heart beating. He’d made love to me two more times. Once in the shower, where I almost reluctantly washed the dirt from his skin, and again back in his bed. But this time he did go slowly, just as he promised.

If I was asked to pick a favorite of the three, I don’t think I could. Because each time showed a different side of him. The side that was young, eager, and maybe a bit too excited, and the other that was controlled, deliberate, and made me believe there was more to this thing than what we were both acknowledging. Something deep rooted, raw, that had the potential to hurt and leave scars.

But I didn’t want to think about that now. All I wanted to do was let him hold me, to enjoy the feeling of my chest lifting with each of his breaths, and our bodies fitting more perfectly than if we were made as one.

He trailed his fingers up and down my spine, so softly I wondered if he realized he was doing it. I lifted my head to look up at him, to find him watching me. He smiled, a slow, easy smile that only came after a night like this. From being satisfied in the most primal way.

I looked into his eyes, deep brown and slightly droopy from exhaustion, to his straight nose that fit his face perfectly, and his lips. I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance to examine him this closely again, and I wanted to memorize every part of him. My eyes settled on the scar I’d noticed the first time I met him—the one wedged in the crease between his lip and chin, and I lifted my hand to touch it.

“How’d you get this?”

He closed his eyes, as if remembering, and I wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion that made him look so somber, or something else. My body stiffened, and I instantly regretted having asked the question.

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