Page 61 of Truck Stop Tempest

A low moan vibrated his chest. “I can’t get enough of you. The more you give, the more I want.”

“I know what you mean.” I traced the path of dark hair leading to his thickening arousal, down to the root, then back up. “Is it normal?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” He shivered, hips bucking when my fingers traveled lower, teasing. “Fuck normal anyway.”

I laughed. Sounded good to me. “Think we should eat?”

“Eventually.” He slid a hand down his stomach, then fisted himself, one long, slow stroke, mesmerizing and beautiful for such a simple, sensual act.

A lawn mower roared to life outside.

“What time is it?”

His chest rumbled. “Don’t care.”

“I should start apartment hunting today before I head to work.”

“We decided you were staying with me.” Stroke. Stroke.

Gulp. I licked my dry lips. “Yes. Here. In this apartment. Temporarily. You’re moving out. I need to find a place too.”

“I assumed you’d come with me.” All the lust haze disappeared from his voice.

“Tito.” I pushed up on my elbow. “That’s a big step. I’m young. I need a little independence. Need to learn to stand on my own two feet.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face, then turned his head away, chest rising and falling in measured bursts. He swallowed. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.” With a grumble, he rolled off the bed, shuffled into a pair of sweats, and headed to the living room.

My chest caved.

The front door opened. The lawnmower stopped. Men’s voices.

I pulled the sheet up to my chin. The lawnmower started up again. The front door slammed.

Tito stormed back into the room, kicked off his pants, tore the sheet off the bed, and blanketed me with his own naked body.

The smile that greeted me was magic. Pure. Rare. Spellbinding.

“There. Settled. This place is yours as soon as I move out. You’ve got an apartment. Fully furnished. Close to work. Cheap rent.”

“That’s not what I had in mind.”

Brows pinched, he waited for my argument.

Deflated, I sunk into the mattress. “You missed the whole point. I wanted to do this on my own.”

No response. Nothing but sexy hardness and worried eyes.

Jumbled words danced around my head, not one of them connecting with another. He’d been nothing but patient and forgiving with me the past few weeks, and I couldn’t find it in my heart to give him grief.

“Thank you,” I offered.

A thousand years of worry seemed to melt from his body, his muscles relaxing, eyes softening.

I shifted, inviting him to settle deeper between my thighs. Every inch of my body was sore from our night of sexual indulgence, a pain I welcomed, cherished even. An ache that reminded me I was human, and soft, and desirable.

Tito tucked his arms under my shoulders and sunk into me, one long, slow glide, lighting me up inside, giving me all his power, virility, and need. He trembled, head dropping to my shoulder. “Fuck, Bunny. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you feel good.”

Dear, sweet Lord, he felt good, too. I’d never had unprotected sex, but with Tito inside me, nothing between us, no barriers, I wanted nothing more than to continue, to urge him on, to take, and take and take until he came inside me, completing the act the way it was meant to be. Man and woman, making love, procreating.

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