Page 74 of Forever in the Country

Those words on her lips had me wanting to fuck her into oblivion. But the fire in those baby blues held me captive as she took me all the way to the back of her throat. It’s a vision that’s been burned into my brain and one I’ll be guaranteed to jerk off to in the future.

And while all that was incredible, some part of me still recognizes that I need to find some sort of balance. I was more overbearing and she was less appreciative of that than normal—today was evidence of that. I don’t blame her, but I couldn’t stop. She was making me so damn crazy.

I should have gone back to my trailer to clean up, but the allure of being in her space was too much to resist.

Toeing my boots off, I line them up next to the door and grab the overnight bag I’d taken with me to the training. I still had a set of clean clothes and that would be enough.

The smell of cinnamon and sugar is faint in the room, like she whipped up a batch of cookies before leaving for work. The notion would be absurd if it was anyone else but Rhea.

But it’s not—and if I’m really lucky the cookies hidden somewhere in here won’t be oatmeal raisin.

I probably deserve them but hell, a man can dream.

Stripping off my clothes, I turn the water on in the shower and step into the spray without waiting for it to warm up. The energy vibrating through me is volatile, and I need to rein myself in before I have to face the woman I never want to be without.

She’s sweet and sunshine, fire and strength. I leaned on her when I first returned home, and she’d never said a word about it. Being with her was still such a mindfuck.

Part of me feels like because she’s seen me at my weakest—at my most vulnerable—I need to prove myself before going after her. That I have to work twice as hard to be strong and capable even though she takes me for pedicures, knows I soak in the bathtub, and that I read romance.

She knows all the things that are so at odds with the man I am to the world. It’s comforting and exhausting, and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or where we’re supposed to go from here.

The soft snick of the bathroom door has my eyes falling shut and a warning on my lips. “Rhea,” I growl as I scrub my hands over my face.

“Shh,” she says, stepping into the tub and wrapping her arms around my waist.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I settle one hand on her back and tangle the other in her hair.

“Being with you.”

“I didn’t even get to strip you out of your clothes like I wanted,” I murmur as I trace small circles on her back.

She tilts her face up to look at me and she’s utter perfection. Her full, perky breasts are pressed against my chest, and I let my hand slide down to cup her ass.

“Is that your only grievance? Because I think you did just fine.”

“I wanted to spread you out.”

“We have time for that,” she says slowly, “but right now, you need this.”

“Need what?”

“Me”—she presses a soft kiss to my chest before looking up at me again—“just like this.”

I could give her this—admit that she’s right.

A simple request with a simple answer.

But I can’t stop myself from going through all the reasons we should wait. I’m still stuck in my head when her voice breaks through the uncertainty.

“You’re so beautiful, Sorren.” Her lips return to my chest and over the black ink that marks my skin. Each addition had been cathartic—necessary.

Healing.

I let my eyelids fall shut as she kisses across my chest, over my pecs and back again. Her nails rake down my back, and I love the bite that’s such a glorious fucking contrast to the gentleness of her mouth.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispers. “I’m not afraid of what this means for us.”

“Be sure. Be so fucking sure.” I’d said the words so many times I didn’t know if they were for her or me.

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