Page 85 of The Locksmith's Promise

“Please, Baxter,” she whispered. “I need your skin.”

Reaching back, I grasped my shirt and whipped it over my head. My pants went next, and I moved her toward the bed and lay her down.

And then I stared.

My eyes traced the smooth length of her legs, the curve of her hip and the gentle swell of her belly before darting up to her pretty face, and the tumble of her chestnut hair spilling across the pillow.

Eyes wide and slightly wary, she moved to cross her arms over her breasts.

“No, baby,” I murmured, capturing one wrist and pressing my lips to her pulse. “I’ve missed you for far too long for you to hide from me now.”

She swallowed and nodded as I dropped a kiss between her breasts.

Feathered my lips and tongue over the gentle ridges of her ribs to my tattooed promise.

One I silently renewed as I ran my calloused hands over the generous curves of her waist, her hip, and her thigh.

Reveling in her soft sigh as she melted into the mattress.

It was clear she’d suffered, the evidence written in the lines on her face, the fractured trust in her eyes, and the cautious manner she approached the world.

Tougher by far than I ever was, she’d done so well, exuding strength and delivering grace.

But she’d never do it alone again.

With every brush of my fingers over the silver inscriptions our son wrote on her tummy, I pledged to ease her burdens.

Infuse her world with goodness.

Provide for her every need and as many of her wants as I could manage.

And I thanked God for the chance He’d given me.

Goosebumps chased my tongue as I dragged it along the sensitive crease of her thigh, urging her to spread her legs so my mouth could sing her praises.

Soft.

Easy.

Slow.

She reached for me, threading her fingers through my hair and lightly scratching my scalp.

My eyes burned behind my closed lids as the heat at her centre branded me as hers, and only hers.

Her sweet taste, my redemption.

I breathed deep, filling my lungs and my mouth, my soul soaring as she trembled under my tongue.

She protested as I backed away.

“With me this time, baby,” I murmured, sliding a condom over my length before moving back up her sweet, curvy body.

Taking her mouth gently, slowly, thoroughly exploring.

Tasting.

Giving.

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