“Shh.” She slid down his body, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at her healing ribs. He tried to catch her anddraw her back upright, but he didn’t want to cause her more pain.
“Stop,” she murmured, her breath warm against his stomach. “Let me show you how much your past doesn’t matter to me.”
And then her mouth wrapped around his cock, warm and wet and so perfect he had to close his eyes against the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Her hands steadied his hips as she took him deeper, and he buried his fingers in the grass, anchoring himself to the earth as white-hot pleasure sizzled through his body with every stroke of her tongue along his shaft.
It wasn’t just the physical sensation, though that was shattering enough. It was what her actions meant. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Things he’d never thought he deserved, never even allowed himself to want.
She’d heard the worst of him and still wanted him. Still chose him.
Ghost had never surrendered control to anyone. Not willingly. Not without a fight.
Yet here he was, flat on his back in this meadow, letting Naomi take him apart with her mouth, completely at her mercy. The thought should have terrified him. Instead, it felt like salvation.
She took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock before sliding down his length. Her hands worked in tandem with her mouth, one cupping his balls, the other wrapped around the base of his shaft, creating a perfect rhythm that had his hips jerking upward involuntarily.
"Jesus, Naomi," he groaned, fighting the urge to thrust deeper into her mouth. He tangled one hand in her hair, not guiding, just connecting, needing the physical tether to keep from floating away on waves of pleasure.
She hummed in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through his system. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, dark with desire, and he finally understood what it meant to be truly seen. Not as a ghost, not as a weapon, not as a collection of skills and sins, but as a man. Flawed, damaged, but worthy of connection.
Worthy of her.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. All his life, he'd fought to maintain control—of his surroundings, his emotions, his reactions. Control was safety. Control was survival.
But in this moment, with Naomi's mouth on him, her eyes meeting his with such complete acceptance, something inside him broke open. His hand loosened in her hair. His body stopped fighting the pleasure, stopped trying to contain it or direct it.
He closed his eyes and surrendered.
thirty-five
The rideback to Valor Ridge passed in a companionable silence. Naomi could still taste him on her lips, could still hear his soul-deep groan as he’d come, spurting into her mouth. She’d every drop like it was sacred, like she could consume the darkness he’d revealed and transform it into light.
She’d never been the kind of woman who enjoyed giving oral sex—it had always felt like a chore, something men expected but she merely tolerated. With Owen, everything was different. The taste of him, the sounds he made, the way his fingers had trembled in her hair—it had awakened something primal in her.
She’d made Owen Booker lose control, and her body hummed with satisfaction even as it ached for more. The way he’d looked at her afterward, with wonder and vulnerability and something that might have been love, had stolen her breath.
She desperately wanted to get him home and make him lose control again. She wanted to ride him, using that beautiful cock to ease the ache blooming between her legs, but Lazy Susan didn’t seem to understand the urgency. She plodded at the same glacial pace as always, occasionally stopping to investigate something only she found fascinating.
Owen rode beside her, his face softer than she’d ever seen it. He almost seemed… at peace. She was glad she could give him that.
The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile that sent warmth cascading through her body. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“I’m thinking Lazy Susan might be the worst getaway vehicle in history,” she said, trying to sound light despite the heavy pulse of need still throbbing between her thighs and the maddening scrape of her pebbled nipples against her bra. “We could be robbing banks right now, and she’d stop to smell the flowers during the escape.”
Owen chuckled, the sound so rare and precious it made her heart squeeze. “That’s her superpower. Complete immunity to urgency.”
Naomi shifted in the saddle, acutely aware of how the leather pressed against her core with each plodding step. The ache in her ribs had faded to background noise, replaced by a different, more insistent kind of pain—the need to feel him inside her, to finish what they’d started in that meadow.
“I don’t suppose there’s any way to convince her to hurry?” She tried not to sound as desperate as she felt.
Owen’s eyes darkened, catching her meaning immediately. “Not unless you’ve got a time machine. Or maybe an act of God.”
“I’ll work on the act of God.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, watching his eyes track the movement. “Because I have plans for you when we get back.”
“Is that right?” His voice dropped to that dangerous register that made her insides liquefy.
“Very specific plans involving very specific plans involving you naked in your bed. Or on the floor. Or against the wall. I’m not picky about location.”
His expression turned predatory, sending a delicious thrill down her spine. “That so?”
