Page 24 of Changed Plan

She shrugs. “Your tone sounded very big-brother-like. Is your mom sick?”

“Yeah. She is.”

I had no intention of telling Darby any of this, but the next thing I know, I’m sitting next to her on the bed, and I’ve spilled everything from the initial diagnosis to the latest prognosis. I’ve never shared this much about it with anyone, and it feels good, but awful at the same time.

“I really did not mean to just trauma dump all over you.”

“It’s fine, Zane. I think you needed to talk about it.”

“I think I did, too. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She flinches before she goes on, but I wouldn’t miss what else she has to say for anything. “This is probably going to make me sound like an asshole, but I might’ve needed a reminder that there are people with bigger problems than mine. I can get a little tunnel vision sometimes.”

“That happens to everybody.” I’m grateful she’s taking this in stride and not looking at me with abject pity. She can make it about her all she wants. I’d prefer that, honestly. “It’s natural to feel that way.”

She nods. “Just another part of the human condition, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Her eyes are bright, and I can’t tell if she’s on the verge of tears or happy. It could be the perfect moment to come on to her or the absolute worst. My timing with this woman has been shit from the start, but all I know is if I don’t kiss her right now, my heart might explode in my chest. So, I do.

We pick right back up where our kiss left off on the train. But we’re not on a train now. We’re in a bed, and I can’t think of single good reason why we should remain upright, so I slide down and take her with me.

Her body gently rolls toward mine until she’s nestled against me. She moans softly when I thread my fingers into her hair, and the kiss deepens. I want to get so very lost in this woman. My hand leaves her hair to glide down her side, following the curve of her waist. The fabric of her dress is thin, and her body heat radiates through it.

As I let my hand roam back upward, I can map each of her ribs. And then the swell of her breast. The fullness of it fills my palm, and I want to feel her with nothing between our skin.

I pull the long dress up to her waist, bunch it in my hands, and keep lifting until she’s shaking her hair free, and together, we drop the dress to the floor. When I reach around her body for the clasp of her bra, she arches her back to make it easier for me to unhook.

My eyes close for a sharp second before I take the straps down her arms.

I just need to feel her in my arms like this, warm and soft, the willingness in her spine as it relaxes after the release of the clasp, the want-to in her kiss. It’s the willingness and the want-to I need to be sure of before we go on. The want-to most of all.

I need to know that my need isn’t driving her willingness. To believe she wants this as much as I do. She squirms almost imperceptibly beneath me, but I know I didn’t imagine the anxious rock of her hips. Anticipation races between us like electricity through coils.

Her nipples pebble as soon as the air hits them. They’re irresistible. My thumb grazes one of the rosy peaks before I lower my mouth to it. She gasps a little at my ravenous pace, but I can’t temper my passion with caution right now. I need to release too much that’s been pent up for too long.

The clawing of her hands at my shirt as she tries to remove it matches my frenzied energy. My hand delves into her panties to cup her soft pussy, and my fingers glide through her seam with no friction at all. She’s so fucking wet it makes my dick lurch and my mouth water at the same time.

I rise up and help her take my shirt off before I kiss my way down her gorgeous body. The quiver of her thighs when I lick her pretty pussy for the first time turns my cock to steel. Her juices coat my tongue like nectar as I spread her legs wider, pressing the heels of my hands into the backs of her knees until I have them exactly the way I want them: drawn up and splayed open.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” I glance up to see her teeth sinking into her bottom lip right before her head lolls to the side. My lips gently knead her clit until she whimpers and fists the sheet, and then I go back to tasting her sweet arousal, leaving her clit swollen and needy. I’ll return to it, but not before my beard is drenched in her essence.

Fuck, I love the heady scent of her, the way she drives her shoulders into the mattress and tries not to buck her hips against my mouth while I devour the steady flow from her hot pussy. I want her to let go of that restraint.

Slipping two fingers inside, I apply variable pressure on her slick upper wall until the muscles in her abdomen tighten and the cadence of her breath quickens. “Will this make you squirt for me?”

“I-I,” she hesitates, but her silken walls clench around my fingers, and I think I have my answer.

Keeping my fingertips working the spot they’ve found, I close my mouth around her clit, increasing the suction while my tongue rhythmically massages it.

She draws a pronounced breath with a gasp that borders on a scream. And then her restraint falls completely.

Fuck, yes. Drown me, beautiful.

Lying boneless on the bed with her dilated pupils darkening her eyes under heavy lids, her cheeks flushed, and her blissed-out expression, she should be named a new wonder of the world.

In a voice so thin I wouldn’t recognize it as hers if I wasn’t looking right at her, she asks, “Why are you so good at that?”

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