Page 39 of All It Takes

Tiffany glanced over her shoulder. “I have an IUD. There’s nothing to worry about, for that or otherwise,” she clarified.

We stared at each other. With my hand splayed at the base of her spine, I took a breath. “There’s nothing to worry about otherwise for me either,” I added. A part of our annual physical was testing for everything under the sun. I hadn’t even had a casual fling since I’d moved back to Willow Brook.

“Then fuck me,” she said, her voice husky.

I closed my eyes, taking a breath as blood shot straight to my cock at her blunt order.

“As you wish,” I said when I opened them again.

I looked down. With her bottom tilted up, her bare pussy was pink and swollen with my cockrightthere. My eyes trailed up to the base of her spine, where my palm was splayed. I idly noticed a scar, several inches in length just a few inches above where my palm was resting. It was clearly a surgical scar.

Before I could even contemplate it, Tiffany arched, pressing her bottom back against me and her pussy sliding against my cock. “What are you waiting for?”

I shifted, finally giving in to everything I needed. I positioned my cock at her entrance and let out a growl as I slowly filled her. When I was seated fully, I rocked in, just a nudge, and took a deep breath. It wasn’t simply the pure, nearly delirious feeling of being fully inside her. It felt as if I had come home, as ifthis—Tiffany, me, us, as connected as two humans could be physically—was everything.

“Wes,” she gasped as her hips pushed back toward me.

That subtle motion pushed me over. It was as if a dam had broken, and the water rushed free.

ChapterTwenty-Six

TIFFANY

Wes somehow knew everything I needed. His rhythm was absolutely perfect—not too fast and not too slow but just exactly right. He interspersed subtle rocks with drawing back fully before filling me again, inch by delectable inch. I felt every sensation, the stretch of him filling me, the slick fusion of every motion, the way my thighs were pressed together from my jeans banded around them, and the sharp, piercing pleasure created by that friction.

My release was on the edge, the pleasure intensifying. Wes reached around at the exact moment I needed it, grazing his fingers over my clit. My pleasure burst like a ray of fire through me. I cried out, my channel clenching around his cock. I felt him let go as he went taut, calling my name in a rough growl. His fingers tightened on my hip, and I felt the heat of his release coming in spurts inside me.

He stayed with me until we both went still. He curled around me as we breathed together. I didn’t know who moved first, but somehow, we disentangled ourselves. He lifted me into his arms, walking into the living room where he sat on the couch and held me in his lap.

* * *

Hours later, I woke in the darkness. I was curled against Wes’s side, the human equivalent of a barnacle. One of my knees was hooked over his. My arm was curled across his stomach, and my head was tucked into the curve of his shoulder. I could feel his arm wrapped around my shoulders with his palm resting just above the curve of my bottom.

I felt safe and protected. Almost. The moment that feeling flickered into my awareness, all the voices that held my baggage, carried the heavy weight of distrust, of never believing that even good people got the love they deserved clamored to be heard. Only once before had those voices fallen silent because it was a friend, someone I thought I could trust, who had betrayed me. Just now, those voices shouted out through the haze of sleep, snapping me awake abruptly and reminding me everything was fragile. Even thinking maybe I was safe, maybe I was okay was a risk.

Those voices at this moment were powerful. Yet the need to savor the way I felt was actually stronger. Perhaps it was the darkness, or maybe it was the way Wes held me in his sleep. He was still asleep. I could feel the rhythm of his breath where my palm rested on his chest—slow and steady, following the beat of his heart.

I heard a tail swishing on the floor and smiled to myself. Nilla was mostly with Wes, but she had spent a few nights with me when Ross was there. She often wagged her tail in her sleep.

Wes shifted, not waking, but his palm moved in a soothing circle on my bottom. I almost giggled but sobered instantly. I’d gone out of my way to build a fortress around my heart, to ensure a moat and a gate and walls and battlements all aligned to keep my heart safe.

It wasn’t working out that way with Wes. I’d had too much faith in myself, too much faith in those old habits.

I felt vulnerable, soft inside, as if Wes had shimmied through a crack in my defenses—not because he was trying to trap me but because I hadn’t been prepared. I hadn’t believed someone like him existed, not for me.

I breathed in slowly and heard another swish of Nilla’s tail on the floor. Wes’s palm slid halfway up my back, then back down as he mumbled something in his sleep. His arm tightened, just barely, around me, holding me even closer. Even safer.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

TIFFANY

I leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, trying to catch my breath as my heartbeat galloped and pleasure scattered through me in a shower of sparks. I dragged my eyes open to find Wes’s eyes waiting.

He’d just fucked me against the wall and only a moment ago eased me down from his hold as he withdrew from me. I could see the rapid beat of his pulse at the base of his throat, his own breath coming rapidly.

“Fuck me, Tiffany,” he said, his voice husky.

“You just did.”

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