Page 24 of Unveiled

The way she stared up into his eyes made him feel like a god. Power coursed through him. He wanted to beat his chest and grunt at the look, but her words brought it down a notch.

“You don’t have to thank me; equal participation and responsibility.” The sweat was rapidly cooling his body and judging by her pebbled skin, she was suffering the same effects. Rush kicked up the cover, caught it, and pulled it around them both as she snuggled back into him.

“I mean for everything since the minute we met, but also. . .for the effort you put into, you know.”

He most certainly did know, but it shouldn’t warrant gratitude. . .wait. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you shouldn’t have to thank your partner with words. The thanks are in the shared pleasure. Trust me, I enjoyed it way more than you. One tiny orgasm wasn’t nearly enough, you deserve more.” Rush knew as soon as he said the words that it was a jumbled mess. He didn’t mean to make it sound like her body was payment. Just that they both received pleasure so she shouldn’t feel the need to thank him. He didn’t have to ask why, he already knew. The fetid douche she was with didn’t give two shits about her needs. He just got himself off and was done.

Rush wanted to ask, but that would break his own rule about bringing other men up while naked in bed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Tatum gave the forearm wrapped around her a gentle squeeze.

“I know you didn’t. I think I’m learning to speak Rushian pretty well already.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah, you are.” Rush wasn’t a very clear communicator, never had been unless they had a mission. Plan, execute, adapt, complete, debrief. That was easy. Everything was laid out ahead of time and any communication during a mission was done with pre-planned codes or signals. Information was relayed efficiently, no emotions, just facts. When it came to the real world, he had the social skills of a fourteen-year-old at best.

“It’s just. . .” Her voice trailed off. Rush tightened his arm around her and kissed the shell of her ear.

“Say no more. I get it, but for future reference, you don’t have to thank me. I’m a simple man. Tell me what you need. Words, moans, screams, calling me a deity, writhing works, too.” He chuckled. “If I fail to preform, then kick my ass. If I get pleasure, you get pleasure. Simple as that. Not that I expect you to pleasure me. . .” She patted the arm around her, letting him know she understood what he wanted to say, not what he was actually saying. “You know what, I’m going to shut up now before I say something you can’t translate from Rushian to English.”

Rush listened as her breathing became slow and steady. Basking in the joy of having her in his arms, his words still haunted him. He couldn’t figure out why as he drifted off to sleep, holding her tight.

When morning light crept in through the blinds, he woke. Tatum had turned all the way around and had her face buried in his chest. Her soft breaths tickled his skin and hardened his dick. She looked like an exhausted angel bathed in the golden halo of dawn. He dropped a kiss on her temple and eased out of bed to shower.

With the hot water pelting his body from all sides, his words haunted him. It finally hit why they’d stuck in his brain, even through sleep. He’d practically said them syllable for syllable before, more than once.

He groaned at the thought. Tatum wasn’t like the others. The words were the same, but the meaning was totally different. Pleasure in the past had always been an even exchange. They gave him pleasure, and he returned the favor. He’d thought it to be equal, but it wasn’t. They were giving him emotion, and he was offering none in return. Sure, he cared, but he never attached anything to the act but physical enjoyment.

Last night was different. He wanted to give her pleasure simply because he desired to. Not in return because that’s how it worked, no. He not only got pleasure from hers, but he also got it from allowing his heart to join the party, too. Rush hadn’t realized he was rubbing one out in the shower until his hand stilled. This is not good.

He needed to get a fucking grip on more than his own dick. People did not fall in love that fast. He was rebounding, he had to be, he was a serial relationshipist. Is that even a real word?

Rush had always been in a relationship. Good or bad, long term or short, he didn’t stay single for long. That had to be it, right? If he didn’t pump the brakes and look at it through the proper lens, he would hurt her, and that’s the last thing he wanted to do.

“Need a hand with that?” Rush jumped at the sound of her voice and turned. Following her line of vision, he knew exactly what she meant. A wicked thought curled the sides of his lips upward as he opened the glass door, inviting her in.

When she entered, Rush scooped her up, turned her, and pressed her back against the tile. He locked down his thoughts, emotions, and everything else clouding his mind to focus on her body and the pleasure he could wring from it.

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