Page 116 of Love Me Steadfast
I am not ready for this conversation, so I sip from my mug. “Thank you for the coffee. How did you even know I still liked hazelnut creamer?”
“I didn’t.” He gives me a mischievous wink, and I lift my lips to his for a kiss.
His lips are soft and plush, and he tastes of coffee and cinnamon. I stroke slowly up his chest, run my fingers over the bird to make sure she’s real.
He gives a low hum and flicks his tongue against mine. Desire unfurls inside me like petals opening to a bright summer sun, the dew melting away.
When he pulls back, his eyes are that same deep blue, sparkling like the sea. “Are you hungry?”
I set my coffee down on the nightstand and cup the back of his neck, drawing him back for another kiss.
Because there aren’t words for what I want to express. For what I can’t possibly explain.
But I can show him.
I’ve barely caughtmy breath when he’s carrying me to the shower. But we can’t keep our hands off each other. Even though my body still hums from the orgasm he just gave me, and the others before that.
The warm water pours down, making our skin slick. I caress down his shoulders as we kiss, our tongues playful. He breaks away to grab the soap, then lathers it on a washcloth and proceeds to gently scrub every inch of me, pausing to kiss and caress, our quickening breaths echoing in the tight space, until my skin is tingling and the hollow between my thighs is cramping with need. William plucks each of my nipples with his soapy fingers as we kiss. I groan as yearning crashes inside me like waves on a forgotten beach, drawing me farther and farther from shore.
William kisses down, sucking and swirling with his mouth, untilhe’s on his knees and my back is pressed to the cold tile. He lifts one of my thighs over his shoulder to tease me gently with soft flicks of his tongue. I grip his hair, desperate for more, the silky wet strands the only thing keeping me from losing control. He grips my thighs, spreading me open for him, caressing me with such focus and care, drawing out my pleasure until I’m convulsing, desperate.
“Please, Will,” I beg, my heart so tight in my chest, emotions spinning faster and higher inside me. Letting them free is dangerous but I can’t hold them back.
“Come on my tongue, sweetheart,” Will growls. “Soak my face.”
I whimper. The dark edge in his tone is as sexy as his words. Need and desperation rock through me. I want him so badly. Now, in this moment, and the next, and the one after that. I want this feeling building inside me to never end. Like my heart is a hot air balloon set free in a wide blue dawn.
He sucks on my clit, using the edge of his teeth. The pleasure is sharp and so sweet I grip his hair, desperate. How could it be so good? So incredibly perfect? His tongue glides and swirls faster and harder. My breaths quicken as I rock against him. I abandon my fears, embracing the joy and lightness dancing inside me as I come, his name spilling from my lips in a desperate plea. We move together, the water pouring down as I shudder, my standing leg giving out. William slides up, wrapping his arms around me.
“I’ve got you, baby.” He’s breathing fast, his big, beautiful heart pounding against my rib cage. Like it’s ready to break through the walls of bone and flesh keeping us apart.
I wrap my arms around him, giving him the depth of my sorrow and joy, the weight of the love that will always bind me to him.
“I got kindof a weird phone call yesterday,” Will says from where he’s cooking scrambled eggs at the stovetop. So far, Theo’s stayedupstairs. Could he really have slept through all the noise I made? My cheeks heat just thinking about it.
“There’s an FBI agent,” Will continues, “a friend of Hutch’s and Zach’s too, named Luke Ballard. He’s working some case that might connect a couple of young women. They’re all musicians or singers. Some of them played at The Limelight.”
I pluck the toast from the toaster and slather both of them with butter, then add them to the two plates next to him on the counter.
“What kind of case?” I ask while he dishes up the eggs, then carries the plates to the table.
To any outsider, we probably look like we’ve been cooking together for years. Is this what life with Will would be like? Whipping up an easy breakfast together before going about our day? Meeting up in the evening to watch for shooting stars then falling into bed to make a few of our own?
I coax in a slow breath then pour us both more coffee and join him at the table.
“Well, he’s a profiler,” Will says as we tuck in, “so I imagine it’s something pretty serious.”
Gooseflesh explodes on the backs of my arms. “Like a serial killer?”
“Luke was pretty cagey, but what else could it be?”
“What’s the link to The Limelight?” I ask while stirring more creamer into my coffee, the color mellowing with each round of the spoon.
“I guess some of the victims he’s linked all played there. He gave me a couple of names. Dagney Cole is one of them.”
I frown. “I thought she died of an overdose.”
“She did,” Will says in a thoughtful tone, like he’s confused too. “But Ballard thinks it’s related to this case from seven years ago. His kid sister’s best friend vanished. She was the lead singer in a band called Tender-something…Tenderfoot?”
