Page 66 of Coming Home

The press of his lips stole her protest.

Nat didn’t fight it. Pushing away the voices telling her to stop, the voices hissing that she didn’t deserve this. Her arms encircled his neck and she melted into their hungry kisses.

Emotions collided in a riot within her; sadness, anger, self-loathing, belonging, desire. And above all else, something she was not yet willing to name fought for control. Once you name something you own it. It was too soon to own that emotion. So much swirled within her.

“I need you… Please.”

He stood up and scooped her into his arms, carrying her upstairs. Their mouths locked in devouring kisses with each step. Noah laid her upon the wine-red bedspread. The satiny softness cushioned her. Crawling over her, his ravenous mouth pressed kisses everywhere. Her mouth. Neck. Collarbones. Breasts. And down her torso over the smooth fabric of her sundress.

Strong hands glided up her thighs, pushing up her dress until it bunched at her waist. Like an acolyte worshipping her, he placed a soft kiss over the lacy fabric of her panties. The touch of his lips scorched through the thin barrier.

All she wanted was to get lost in this. In the touch of him…of them. Drowning in the ocean of them, warm waters lapping over her to wash away all other thoughts or feelings.

Impatience crested and she pushed him away. Pulling the sundress over her head, she tossed it to the carpeted floor. Noah followed her lead, yanking off his T-shirt. Then, she unclasped her bra and pulled off her own panties. He stood, shoving his track pants and underwear off. This felt like a race, where both of them panted toward the naked finish line.

No preamble. No slow seduction. Just a need for connection. To have the only sensation inside her be him. Rising to her knees, she pushed him onto his back. She crawled on top of him and notched his tip at her entrance.

As she sank onto his firm shaft, every single one of her nerve endings screamed with relief.

“Noah.” She uttered his name like a thankful prayer as the delicious twinge of almost-too-full pushed away anything but this. But them.

Noah grasped her waist, rocking her hips in a slow, tantalizing pace. Wantonness surged inside her. She wanted…needed more. The quickening pace of their rhythm built a pleasurable pressure at her core.

“More… I need more,” she whimpered her demand.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Noah flipped them, pressing her into the soft mattress. “I’ve got you, baby,” he growled, thrusting deeper inside her.

“Fuck!” she gasped, combusting with the fire that burned along her veins.

He gripped the backs of her knees, widening her legs and finding an angle that sent an achingly sweet tremor across her entire body. Noah sheathed himself up to the hilt, thrusting more forcefully. Driving her mad with his body.

“Come for me, baby,” he grunted, moving his hand just where she needed him.

“Yes!” she cried.

Her sex clenched around him as the first waves of release crashed over her. She was destroyed. Her limbs were almost liquified by the pleasure slamming through her. She clung tight to his shoulders.

The muscles in his back grew rigid. He gritted his teeth. His hands dug into her hips, pumping hard. “Nat,” he grunted, slamming into her before his body convulsed with release.

They lay still, panting hard.

When she rolled her head toward him, she found Noah studying her. He caressed her cheek. “You’re still perfect to me, baby. The only thing that changed with you telling me about what happened with Evan is that I feel closer to you…something I didn’t think was possible.”

Nat didn’t know how to respond, so she merely lay quietly in his arms.

Pulling out of her, he rolled over onto his back, tucking her under his arm close to his chest.

Eyes closed, she melted into his embrace. Every thought, feeling, and tension that lingered dissipated in his arms. In the soothing cocoon of silence broken only by the beating of his heart, everything disappeared but him and her.

“When I was in Iraq, one of my closest friends in my unit was this guy named Seth.”

Nat traced the outline of his yellowjacket tattoo with her finger. “The surfer from San Diego?”

“Yeah.” She opened her eyes to find a tiny smile on his lips. “You remember from my letters?”

“I remember everything you wrote me.”

He kissed her forehead. “Seth was supposed to be in the last truck in the convoy with this Navy Corpsman named Martin, who talked nonstop about golf. We’d done rock, paper, scissors, and I let him win. Seth always picked rock. Our CO let us switch vehicles since our jobs within the convoy were identical.”

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