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“How is it feeling?” I ask, nodding toward her ankle.
“It’s fine. I think I’m going to get away with some light bruising and soreness this time. I actually did the same thing during that Bingo night. Not quite as bad, but I was fine by morning. I’ll be good.”
I’m still touching her bracelet, but now I slide my fingers from the silver to her skin. I let them glide up her arm and then down her side, watching as goosebumps lift the thin blonde hairs on her arms up. “I could be gentle,” I say.
Her lips twist to the side, amusement clear on her face. “I’m not sure I understand, Mr. Saulters.”
“See,” I say, slowly positioning myself over her, careful not to put any of my weight on her ankle. “I have this goal. When I leave for the season, I’m hoping I’ll have convinced you that sex with other men isn’t even worth it. I want you to crave me. Nobody else.”
My heart rate increases, and it’s not just because of where my thoughts are going. It’s because my words are flirting with a deeper truth I don’t want to admit–that I want her all to myself, and not just her body. I want all of her. Every last fucking bit, but maybe I’ll settle for what I can get.
“Is that right?” she asks. “And in this fantasy land of yours, what do you do? Are you still out there sleeping with a different woman every week?”
“This isn’t about me, Calloway.”
She takes my shirt in her fist, tugging me close like she’s about to kiss me, but she bites my lip instead, eyes dancing with mischief. “I think your fantasy Mia would want to know it was a mutual agreement. If she really did think sex with you was that great, she’d need to know you felt the same about her. And that you didn’t think it was worth sleeping with other women.”
“Fantasy Nolan could consider that.”
“He’d better put it in fucking writing,” she says, raising her eyebrows.
I laugh, bending to kiss her neck. She arches her chin back, letting out a sigh.
“I never put anything in writing. Too dangerous.”
“Nothing?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I agree, kissing her more.
“That’s too bad. Then I don’t think we have a deal. You’ll just have to settle for sharing me.”
“Never,” I smile against her skin. I can hardly hold myself back with her. She’s too damn perfect. Her scent, the sounds, and the feeling of her warmth beneath me. I’m drunk on all of it.
She hooks her good leg around me, pulling me down on her with her heel.
“Careful,” I say, trying not to put weight on her ankle.
“What if I don’t want you to be careful with me,” she whispers.
“Too bad. I’m not going to hurt you.” I pause, swallowing as I feel a kind of conviction rise up in me. “I’d never hurt you.”
She meets my eyes, and then we kiss.
It’s not the wild, frantic kisses we’ve shared before. It’s soft and tender. It’s her lips brushing against mine in moments of shared passion. It’s her hands caressing my face and slipping up the nape of my neck, gliding through my hair.
We break our kiss only to work on undressing. I don’t bother with her shirt or mine. I just unbutton her jeans and pull them down, along with her panties to her knees so I don’t have to aggravate her ankle. I tug off my pants and throw them to the floor, then position myself above her.
She kisses me again, and I slide inside her. We both breathe out with relief.
I move slowly because I don’t want this to end any sooner than it has to. We kiss as I find a rhythm.
I lose all sense of time as I get lost in the feeling of her. I try not to let my thoughts creep in and ruin the moment, but one particular idea keeps threatening to break through to the surface.
This time, we’re not fucking.
We’re making love.
The difference is thrilling and terrifying at the same time. I decide it’s safer to pretend I’m not noticing. I plunge myself back into the moment–into her.
