Page 63 of Someone to Have
The tip of my tongue touches his, and I gasp as his mouth turns hot and demanding. I pull him down with me, and my legs wrap around his body, instinctive and desperate. I reach for the sheet to yank it over us, but Eric snatches it away with a grin.
“No need for that,” he says, his voice rough with promise.
He trails his mouth down my neck, along my collarbone, over the swell of my breast. His hand traces a path up my thigh then spreads my legs. I gasp, my back arching, as he teases me, gentle and relentless, until I’m trembling beneath him.
“Wait,” he whispers into my ear, his breath warm and unsteady. “Not yet.”
I shudder at the command, gripping the sheets as he reaches for his jeans, snagging a condom from the pocket. He rips it open with his teeth, his eyes locked on mine, filled with a raw intensity that steals my breath.
A moment later, he’s above me again, his mouth finding mine just as he enters me. I can’t tell if the groan of pleasure comes from me or him, the sound reverberating between us, mingling with the heat of his kiss.
Our bodies move together, perfectly in sync, like we were made for this—made for each other. A sensation builds low in my stomach, growing with every thrust, every brush of his skin against mine. The rhythm intensifies, and I’m lost to it, lost to him. For this moment, we’re one. Completely. I revel in the feel of his body over mine, the sparks of pleasure spreading through every part of me.
Minutes blur together, and I feel it coming, crashing in waves Ican’t hold back. My release ripples through me, pulling me under, and I cry out, his name on my lips.
Eric’s breath catches, his movements faltering, and I feel him shudder above me. He whispers my name before his head drops to the pillow beside me, his mouth nuzzling my ear as he murmurs words of endearment I didn’t realize I needed to hear.
I’ve never known anything like that level of connection—and it’s more than just physical.
It’s also slightly terrifying from a standard of where the bar has been set going forward. But no matter what the future holds—even when we go our separate ways—I know I’ll hold this night close to my heart.
18
ERIC
At one on Sunday,we park in front of the residential rehab facility in Denver, the scent of Thai food filling the truck with a rich, spicy aroma.
“Mom’s gonna freak out that we brought Pad Thai,” Rhett says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “She loves it.”
My heart pinches at the excitement in the kid’s voice, and I hope he’s right about my sister’s reaction. I called the front desk this morning to let them know we’d bring her lunch during our weekly visit. I assume they passed the message along, but after how rough our previous visit was, I’m not sure what to expect.
Last Sunday, Jen complained of a headache, and the three of us spent most of the hour in strained silence. It was apparent that Rhett was accustomed to his mom’s mercurial moods. He was so sullen, it was hard to tell whose energy was feeding off whose.
But after his success on the ice yesterday, and the sleepover with a new friend, the kid is practically shimmering with happiness—at least, as much happiness as a teenage boy displays. Mainly this consists of him pointing out cool cars and laughing at drivers picking their noses on the way down the interstate.
My mood matches his, probably because I spent the nighttangled up with Taylor and had to force myself to leave her warm bed at dawn. It's supposed to be no strings attached, the coaching strategy and all that. But I can't shake the feeling that I left part of myself with her and it’s one I might not be able to get back so easily.
The sky is overcast, which means more in Colorado with its abundance of sunny days, even in winter. An announcer on the radio station I had tuned to before Rhett took over with his playlist mentioned a snowstorm potentially sweeping in overnight.
We walk up the steps, sign in at the front desk and head to the common room overlooking the placid pond behind the main building. Jen is seated at a table in the far back, a notebook and colored pencils spread out before her.
“Hey, Mom,” Rhett says, his voice not quite as sure as when he’d been commenting on cars.
I breathe a sigh of relief when she looks up and gives him a bright smile. “Hey, baby, it’s good to see you.” She stands to wrap him in a tight hug.
Despite her troubles, my sister is a devoted mom. I know she loves her son and doesn’t want her struggles to be his legacy. “I hardly ate a thing at breakfast,” she says, winking at me over his shoulder, “because I was so excited about you bringing lunch.”
“It’s Pad Thai,” Rhett tells her and she hugs him tighter.
“My favorite.”
Rhett pulls back and grins at her. “We got extra sauce with the spring rolls, just the way you like it.”
“My best boy,” she says, cupping his cheeks in her hands.
She looks better than I’ve seen since arriving in Colorado. Her color is good, and her dark hair, the same shade as mine, is shiny and soft as it falls around her shoulders.
“What’s all this?” I ask, nodding toward the art supplies.
