Page 81 of Where Happiness Begins
My nails dig in his upper back as he hits a spot that makes me gasp, again and again.
“That’s it. You take me so good.”
His praises only make me coil tighter, and when he brings a finger to my clit and resumes his circles, I know I won’t last long. It’s as if he knows what I need before even I do. As if he’s letting me be in control, but he’ll still make sure to bring me right where I need to be.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says on an exhale, gazing at where his finger is wreaking havoc on my body. I move faster against him, that tension building even more. “You’ve got me wrapped around your pretty little finger.” Then he takes my mouth in a breath-stealing kiss, and an orgasm stronger than I’ve ever experienced shatters me, wave after wave of pleasure cresting over me. I part long enough to call his name, then kiss him once more, feeling halfway out of my body as I continue spasming around him.
“Come inside of me,” I beg, and a second later, his thrusts quicken until his warmth fills me, grunts escaping his throat as he holds me even closer than before.
We remain this way for a long time, and even though I know we should move away and drive home, I stay right where I am. He doesn’t push me off either, instead running a hand through my hair with his nose against my cheek, his breaths a lullaby as our heartbeats slow.
This was more than sex. It felt like making love.
And while I know I’m down bad, there’s a chance he’s not that far behind me.
Chapter 33
“Happy birthday.”
Carter groans at my excited voice, then tugs me from where I’m kneeling so I fall into his embrace.
“Come on,” I say against his scratchy cheek.
“Since when do you get up early?” he says in that deep, sleep-laden voice of his that is enough to make my insides tingle.
“Since it’s your birthday.” I press kisses to his jaw, his neck, making him groan. “The earlier we wake, the longer we get to celebrate.” I poke him in the chest, then try to pull away to make him follow me up.
It doesn’t work. Instead, he pulls me even closer to him, then rolls us so his naked leg is propped on top of me, pinning me in place. The feel of his skin against mine makes me wish for a repeat of yesterday. And the night before. And the one before that. Since coming back from Lexie and Finn’s, there hasn’t been a single night we haven’t spent tangled up together, every piece of him finding a way to connect with one of mine.
“I don’t celebrate my birthday,” he says, lightly biting my collarbone, just enough to get me writhing under him. He’s hardening against my hip, too.
I flip us again so I’m straddling him, his eyes going right to my exposed breasts. “Well, with me, you do.” In truth, I woke up with a throbbing headache and aching muscles and would want nothing more than to stay in bed all day, but I’d guessed Carter had never had someone celebrate his birthday in proper form, and he deserved it. “Happy thirtieth, Andy.”
Something glimmers in his eyes as he looks at me, not at my body or my face but me, and then he tugs me down to give me one long but tame kiss. “Thank you.” Then he begins trailing kisses down from my neck, to my breasts, to my sternum, then to my belly.
“Wait,” I say, neck extended, not moving away just yet. “I need to give you your gift.”
“I already have a gift all right,” he says, never looking up, pushing me away from his lap so he can drag his lips to my stomach, my navel, my pubis. A shiver racks my body, one that makes me feel a little lightheaded.
“Later,” I say, then pull away and leave the bed before he keeps me in there forever. His slow footsteps follow me from the bedroom to the living room, where I have a pink Barbie gift bag waiting for him.
His brow quirks up in question, grinning as he watches the present.
“Overestimated my gifting supplies. Sorry.” Then I grab the bag and extend it to him. “It’s nothing big, though, so don’t be disappointed.”
He rolls his eyes, then pulls at the tissue paper and looks inside.
He doesn’t react right away—or even at all—when he sees the bird house I went to get at the hardware store yesterday. When I thought about what this man who lives so simply could want, it was the one thing that came to mind.
“It’s also a little thank you for all you’ve been doing around the house.” I’ll never be able to show him just how grateful I am for all the pressure he’s taken off me by doing those repairs I’d been putting off for years. “And I thought you might like this, to replace your old one.” I cross my arms in front of me, his silence starting to feel thick as honey. “I want you to feel like this place is your home too.”
His throat works as he pulls it out of the bag and starts examining the simple bird house from every angle. Still no reaction.
“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” God, maybe I should’ve kept that impulsive idea to myself. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up from the little wooden house, and the way he says it sounds genuine. It’s in the thickness of his voice, in the way he holds the gift close to him, looking so fragile in his large hands.
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
