Page 72 of The Love Losers

Her lips tilt upward. “You were high.”

I lift one leg and kiss the inside of her calf, trailing my mouth up before peering at her over it. “Invinos veritas. I knew what I was seeing.”

Her breath hitching, she reaches down and grips the collar of my shirt.

“Take it off, Anthony. All of it. I need to see you.”

I plant a kiss on the inside of her knee and lower her leg.

“You want to see me?” I reach over to run my fingers between her legs, needing to feel her there. Needing to know…

The air sucks out of my lungs. She’s so deliciously wet for me. She moans and bucks her hips slightly, but insists, “Your shirt. Your pants.”

I pull my hand away and suck on my fingers as I watch her. “You make me feel hopeful, Rosie. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”

“You make me feel like magic could be real,” she says, her gaze heated. “Now prove it to me.”

Smiling, I get to my feet and unbutton my shirt, feeling her gaze on me the whole time, which only makes me harder. She’s on her side now, watching me from the bed.

She sucks in a breath when I take off my shirt and then my undershirt. “God, you look even better without them on.”

“Good,” I say, unfastening my belt and unzipping my pants. “I want to look pleasing to you. Because you are indescribably beautiful to me.” I push down both my pants and my boxer briefs, and a big smile crosses her face as she runs her hand over the purple strip in her hair.

“Oh, you like that?” I ask, crossing the two steps to the bed.

“Ido,” she says as she sits up and reaches for me, her hand wrapping around my dick. The pleasure is nearly enough to unman me. It doesn’t help that she’s looking at me like that. “This is the perfect dick.”

“Rosie,” I groan, pulling away.

“I’m happy to know that my investment in the condoms was worthwhile. I hate wasting.”

“Yes, you’re all about fuel economy.”

I lean down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip, and then kiss my way down her chin, her long neck, her breastbone and her breasts, down the line of her stomach, and then I sink down again and hook her knees over my shoulders, putting my face exactly where I want it—where I’ve fantasized about having it ever since she told me that beards made her think of one thing.

She weaves a hand into my hair, her legs flexing around my shoulders as my mouth finds her center. I suck on her clit, and she lifts her hips for more.

My wife. This gorgeous, wildfire of a woman is going to be my wife, and I want it to mean something. The force of that needis shocking to me—enough so that I’d fall to my knees if I weren’t there already.

“I want to make you feel good, Rosie,” I say. Then I bury my face back between her legs, licking and sucking and learning her—the little movements she makes when I’ve hit something good, the way she grips handfuls of my hair when I’ve hit something great.

Her body starts to tremble, her legs locking around me and pulling me closer as she lifts herself like an offering, and I know she’s already about to come.

I need this. I need to give her something good to thank her for all of the good she’s brought to me.

“Anthony,” she cries, her body rising to meet my mouth. “Oh, fuck, that’s really good.” I could listen to her say my name in that voice all day long on repeat. I tease her over the edge, watching as she leans her head back against the mattress, her hair splayed out around her in a golden halo, and I feel like the luckiest man alive. Then she says my name again, this time riding a moan, and I feel her change beneath my mouth, her body clenching again and again and then relaxing.

She tugs me up from between her legs, breathing hard. “If you’re not careful, I’m going to keep you.”

“Thank God,” I say, leaning in to kiss the side of her neck. “Because I’ve decided to stop being careful.” I kiss her neck, her mouth, her breasts. She moans as she reaches down and palms my dick. The sensation of her moving her hand over me is heaven and hell and everything in between.

And then she pushes her way out of the bed and rummages around on the floor until she finds what she wants.

“I need your dick now,” she tells me as she opens one of the foil packets. “I’m very bad at waiting for the things I want.”

And for this moment, at least, I’m one of them. The thought unleashes something inside of me. I take the packet from herand roll the condom on, aware of her watching me. Deeply aware of her, always.

“You’re beautiful,” she says, and I feel a slice of self-consciousness, because she hasn’t seen them yet. Maybe she won’t. They’re not always noticed, but it’s bright outside, the curtains open to the back of the property, and I want to see her. Despite what we’ve agreed to, there’s a chance this won’t happen again, and I won’t waste it.

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