Page 37 of Healing You
“I have to admit, it's a relief to hear you bring it up. It seemed for so long like you had no idea or you had forgotten why I had walked away.”
“How could I have no idea? It was written all over your face. And I'm sorry. Please tell me you can forgive me. I've felt so awful for my part in that for so many years—”
Steve pushed his fingers gently against her lips to quiet her. “I forgive you.”
Her hands still curled around his face, her thumbs resting on either side of his mouth, she pulled him into her. But instead of kissing his mouth, she tilted his jaw down, pressing her lips beside his temple at the apex of his scar. He sucked in a sharp breath and she could feel his body harden against her. Squeezing her legs together, she constricted his hips even tighter against her body as she trailed her lips down the length of it, leaving little kisses until her mouth ended at the corner of his.
“Yvonne,” he said, his voice a gruff whisper.
“Hmm?”
He curled his arms tight around her waist. “I need your lips,” he answered. Her breasts pushed against his body, causing a glorious pressure, but it wasn't enough.
She fought a smile, but it won out over her. “I knew what you wanted. Just wanted to hear you say it.”
If she didn't know Steve better, she would have sworn that the next sound out of his mouth was a growl, but before she could define it, she took his lips, spearing into his mouth with her tongue. Tasting, licking, sucking, and feeling him with the most desperate kiss she'd ever experienced. His hands clawed up her back, grasping her hair, twisting around in his fists. As she gasped, he seized the opportunity to suck on her bottom lip.
Yvonne pushed her fingers up his shirt, tearing it off over his head, and he did the same with hers. Her sports bra pushed her breasts together, barely managing to contain them as they rose and fell with each quickened breath.
She pulled back, taking him in. Every bit of sculpted muscle. His tanned skin pebbled with goose bumps, taut nipples, and a six-pack that she could play like a freaking harp if she wanted to.
His eyes seemed to be as entranced with her as she was with him, and he traced a line along the edging of her sports bra before peeling it away from her body as well. Dropping his head, he trailed his lips across the fullest curve of her breast.
“Please, Steve.” She gripped his shoulders. She needed more. More than gentle caresses. More than tender kisses. As his thumb skimmed across one nipple, she had to steady her quaking body. She nipped at his shoulder.
“Hmm?” he said, the question buzzing his lips, still barely teasing her nipple.
“Harder.”
He flashed her a grin. “I knew what you wanted. Just wanted to hear you say it.”
Son of a bitch. But before she could allow herself to feel indignant, his teeth came down harder against her nipple, his hand kneading her heavy breast. She glided her fingers into his hair, fisting it, moaning his name over and over as his hands dipped into her waistband, tugging her pants down. His kisses were so similar. His touch, the same, yet more skilled with years more experience behind every move. He had been confident in high school, but this was something beyond teenage confidence. This was security. Stability. Like he was meant to be touching her. His hands were meant to be on her body.
He scooped her into his arms. The bare skin along the side of her body pressed flush against his hard, carved muscles. He moved effortlessly with her in his arms toward the bedroom. “Wait. I haven't showered since my run earlier.”
He eyed the two doors between her bedroom and the bathroom and his brows lifted. “You smell incredible. Like the Eve I've missed for thirteen years.”
“That's very sweet. But if I don't shower, you'll find that I smell like an Eve who hasn't bathed in thirteen years.”
Another smile curved his mouth, and as he pressed it against hers, she could still feel the grin through the kiss as he moved them into the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down over his slim hips. He had on no underwear. No underwear. Holy shit, if she thought he was glorious shirtless, then he was downright Adonis-like nude.
His thick, veined cock stood erect, and Yvonne couldn't stop herself from reaching out, taking hold of him. He was already wet at the tip, wet for her. She pumped him in her fist, bringing her teeth down hard on her bottom lip as her body clenched—needy, ready. So ready for him.
He knelt down in front of her, his nose lined up to her sex, and curving his fingers into her panties, he dragged them down—tortuously slow over her thighs. His knuckles brushed soft skin around her thighs, knees, calves… until the panties fell by her ankles. She stepped out of them, kicking them to the side. Before she could stop him, Steve planted a kiss on her clit, drawing her gently into his mouth and circling his tongue over her nub. She gasped, tugging him into her, and he looked up with a wink. “You're wrong. You smell amazing.”
You smell amazing. He had said that exact same thing to her before their very first kiss. She had just finished cleaning up the play pen area of the animal shelter when Steve came in with a can of soda for her. She tried to run away from him. Tried to scurry off to the bathroom to clean herself up, but he had stepped in front of her. Refusing to let her run and hide. Cracking open a can of soda, he took a sip and handed it to her. Waiting for to drink, he leaned in, and just before he pressed his mouth against hers, she jerked away. I smell like dog poop, she said. And he shook his head and whispered, You smell amazing.
Did he even remember that? Steam billowed around them and Yvonne stepped back from his hold, entering the hot shower. “Don't tell me you've acquired some sort of stinky post-run fetish?”
He stood as well, bending and retrieving a small, square foil wrapper from his wallet, placing it on the shower ledge before following her into the hot, streaming water. She backed against the wall to give him space to enter. The tile felt cool against her body as he moved closer. She had nowhere left to go as a hand lifted to her face, tilting her head back until her hair was beneath the stream of water. Gently, he stroked his fingers through the strands before reaching for the soap. “No. I have a Yvonne fetish. Any way I can have you, I'll take.”
Bubbles formed on his palms and between his fingers as he lathered up. He ran the slick bar over her body, his hands kneading into her skin. With a tilt of his fingers and a gleam in his eyes, he gestured for her to turn around. Her face pressed into the shower wall, nipples grazing the chilly surface as he ran those glorious hands down her back. The whole soapy massage was erotic and sexy as hell, leaving her aching for those hands to massage between her legs.
Looking over her shoulder, she could see that he had dropped to his knees, soaping up her thighs and down her calves. “Spread wider,” he demanded in a hoarse whisper.
She did as told, feeling how swollen and needy she was down there. His hand slid between her legs, just the smallest amount of soap, mixing with her own slickness. He gently rinsed the soap away before moving down the other leg to her ankle.
As she thought he must be finished, she started to move, but his hands tightened on her hips. “Stay,” he said, sliding his hands down over her ass and squeezing. The shower head was positioned so that it was hitting his curved, muscular back, and though he was still on his knees behind her, she could just barely make out his expression if she looked over her shoulder at him. Adoration.
