Page 87 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
I hope in time my family will be able to heal.
I have hope for a lot of things these days.
And I have Riley to thank for that.
Not that I’d be caught dead saying anything so sappy out loud, but she’s brought a lot of light into my life. She may not have saved me the same way I saved her, but she breathed life back into parts of me that I thought were long dead.
Parts I never realized were alive to begin with.
I’ve never wanted to be soft to anyone the way I want to be soft with her.
The way I seek her out in the kitchen instead of leaving her to pour us both a drink on her own is proof of that. My arm stayed around her shoulder through most of dinner, my hand on her thigh for the entire ride home, and we’ve only been separated long enough for me to lock the door and slip my shoes off.
She’s capping the whiskey we share most nights when I sidle up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist.
The silky fabric of her shirt slides against my bare forearms, where I have my shirt rolled up, the heat of her skin beneath seeping through. She doesn’t jump, having grown used to the quiet way I walk, but simply leans back against my chest and lifts a hand to cup my cheek. I hum a pleased noise into the soft curve of her neck, peppering lazy kisses there.
I don’t stop her when she turns, although I was enjoying the way her ass fit perfectly against my hips.
The sight of her sugar-sweet smile and those pretty doe eyes makes up for it.
She wraps her dainty hand around the back of my neck, and I let her tug me down into a kiss, slow and fond and easy as breathing. I never thought I’d enjoy something so slow, but Riley’s made me fall in love with it.
“Thank you for being mine,” she murmurs against my lips, not pulling away for longer than it takes to speak. “For taking care of me.”
I wrap my hands around her hips, pinning her back against the counter just to feel the way she melts against me.
“I always take care of what belongs to me, Princess,” I say, dragging my mouth away from hers.
I don’t give her time to say anything before I trail my mouth down from her jaw to her throat to her collarbones. My fingers are already busy with the buttons of her shirt, plucking at them and baring inch after inch of creamy, flawless skin. Her cuts and bruises have healed in the last two weeks, and I treat the blank canvas of her skin like the masterpiece it is.
The only marks that will ever be on her again are onesIleave there.
Riley gasps as I sink my teeth into the soft swell of her breast, teasing the flesh just above her bra until it blooms hot beneath my lips. She arches into the pain, scratching her nails over my scalp.
I grin as I shift my attention to her other breast, offering it the same treatment as I slip my hands behind her back to unhook her bra.
Her own hands get busy with my clothes once I strip her of her shirt and bra, fingers tugging at the buttons of my shirt as I latch my lips around her nipple. The sweetest sound slips from her lips, but she doesn’t let me distract her from her goal. She manages to push my shirt free of my shoulders and has my pants halfway down my hips by the time my impatience overtakes me.
I lift her up in one easy motion, pushing our whiskey glass out of the way to make room for her on the counter.
“Nick,” she moans, yanking me back into another kiss, hungrier and heavier now. “Need you, Sir.”
“Patience, Miss Morgan,” I tease even as I hurriedly yank her skirt and panties down over her hips and toss them behind me carelessly. “I won’t be able to call you that much longer. You’ll be Mrs. D’Amico soon enough, won’t you, sweetheart?”
Riley’s mouth drops open a fraction, and her eyes go dark and desperate in a way I’ve never seen from her before.
She tugs me forward, clutching at my arms like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded as she kisses me until we’re both lightheaded and panting against each other’s mouths.
“Please,” she gasps out. “Please, don’t make me wait, I’m ready. I need you, Nick.”
Fuck.
If I knew calling her that would make her react likethis, I’d have been doing it every five minutes since I slid that ring on her finger.
I shove my boxers down along with my slacks, my head dropping back on a groan when Riley’s fingers wrap around my hard cock. She swipes her thumb through the precum gathering at the head and uses it to slick her next stroke, pleasure blooming in my gut as I roll my hips forward.
“Don’t get impatient, Princess,” I scold, my voice thick with desire. “I need to stretch you out or it’ll hurt. You’re still so fuckingtight.”
