Page 49 of Hearts to Mend

She turns away from the tree to face me, and her eyes appear almost translucent in the darkness, like she’s completely open, letting me see all the way into her heart and soul. And what I see there is warmth and sweetness.

I move toward her, wanting to wrap her in my arms, to grab hold of her and never let go.

“Do you forgive yourself?” she asks, and the question hits me like a jolt to the heart.

My God, do I forgive myself? No. Out loud, I admit, “I’m still working on it.”

It’s probably not the most satisfying answer, but it’s the truth. And, with that said, I kiss her.

This kiss is different from the others we’ve shared since my return home. This kiss is like a language, with meaning, not like our devouring sex-starved kisses. There is more than feeling in this kiss; there’s emotion.

But there’s a lot of feeling, too, and I’m so fucking hard for her right now it hurts. Still connected with a kiss, I try to lower us to the ground.

Dee pulls away to ask, “What are you doing?”

“I want to make love to you.”

“Here?” She frowns. “On the ground?”

I try to make it sound romantic. “On the spot where we shed our virginity.”

She’s not buying it. “Rico, there are snakes out here, and scorpions, and tarantulas. I’m not seventeen anymore. I need you to make love to me indoors, in a proper bed.”

“Matty is sleeping in my proper bed while my brothers are in town.”

“Bummer,” she says in a teasing tone, trying and failing to hide her grin.

I like that things are light between us again, so easy. Even after that heavy conversation, she’s clearly feeling playful.

I play, too, wrapping my arms around her waist and swaying to a silent song as I commiserate. “Tell me about it. My brothers have always cramped my style, but this is extreme, even for them. Do you have any idea how desperate I am to hear you orgasm right now? It’s one of my top five favorite sounds.”

“What are the other four?”

I show her a hand to count them on my fingers: “Matty’s laughter, your laughter, mamá’s laughter, the coyotes, and your orgasms.”

“You rank my orgasms beneath the coyotes?”

“That wasn’t a ranked list.”

She gives me a devious grin. “Nice try, Stroke Boy, but I heard what I heard.”

Right on cue, one of the neighborhood coyotes howls into the night. We listen as another responds.

“Hmm, it is a nice sound. I can see why you ranked it above my orgasms.”

I lean into her, pressing her back against our tree and brushing her hair over her shoulder so I can whisper into her ear. “I don’t know. I think I need to hear you come again, for comparison’s sake.”

“For science.” She giggles.

“Yes. Please let me finger you for science.”

Now she laughs. “Such a romantic.”

“You want romance? I can do that too.” I move in, ready for action, reciting a few lines from Shakespeare as I cup my palm against her pussy, grinding the heel of my hand to make her whimper.

I love the way she turns soft in my arms, her eyelids sinking to half-mast as a moan passes her lips. “That’s it, baby. Let me have this.”

She nods, and I slip my hand inside her jeans, maneuvering in the tight space to find her warm and wet and waiting for me. Fuck.

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