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Oh my . . . goodness. . .
Josh had offered to give her a demonstration of just what he could do with his mouth and wow had he delivered. She closed her eyes and narrowed her focus to his tongue. Pleasure rippled through her like the waves she’d watched earlier. And it overrode her other emotions.
She pulled on his hair, silently begging for more. More pressure. More teasing, tantalizing stokes designed to turn her legs into a trembling mess . . .
He read her mind and gave it to her.
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She’d been a fool to wait for this. For over a year, this man had been bringing her pies, brownies, and cupcakes. But if she’d let down her guard, if she’d agreed to go out with him before now . . .
Later, much later, she would have a moment of silence for all of the orgasms she’d missed out on because she’d been too afraid to fall for this man.
“This is so much better than pie,” she groaned.
He chuckled as he drew his mouth away. “Even the pecan?”
“Yes.” Her fingers still woven through his curls, she tugged his head back into position and he complied.
Another lick . . .
“Oh wow, that’s better than key lime with homemade . . .” She moaned. “Whipped . . . oh God . . . cream! Yes!”
“Next time I make ‘oh God cream,’ ” he murmured, his mouth still oh-so-close to the most needy, intimate parts of her body, “I’ll cover you in homemade topping.” He stole a lick, then added: “With a cherry on top.”
“Not another dirty word out of you until you make me come,” she said.
He laughed again. But there was nothing cruel about the sound. Not this time. Not here. Not with this man.
She tensed for the rush of memory. Another man. In another place. Laughing at her, not with her. Promising pleasure she didn’t want. And delivering fear. So much fear she’d lived and breathed it for months. She’d let it rule her life. All because of that bastard.
“Caroline?” the man kneeling in a seemingly impossible position at her feet asked softly.
She pushed the memories away. They wouldn’t disappear. What Dustin had done to her, how much he’d taken from her . . . the invisible scars would fade but never disappear.
But they were no longer immobile barriers to her future.
“OK, maybe one or two more naughty images,” she said, wanting to hear his voice while the hand not holding her hip steady explored and stroked her.
“You know, I’m willing to share my whipped cream,” he murmured. “Anytime you want a taste, you can rub some over my chest—”
“Just your chest?” she challenged.
“Use your imagination. My dirty mouth has some unfinished business.”
And then he buried his head between her legs again. She closed her eyes and let the sensations hold her right here, in this moment. His tongue drew tight circles around the bundle of nerves primed by his words and his touch to send her falling . . .
“Josh,” she whispered. “Josh.”
She repeated his name, over and over as she came bucking against his face, accepting all he had to offer.
AFTER HIS ACCIDENT, if someone had told Josh that he’d get a second shot at the life he wanted while crouched on the floor of a motel in Eureka, he would have called them crazy. But right now, listening to the woman he loved call out his name over and over, he knew he’d found what he’d been looking for. He didn’t need the big house nestled in the valley, or the fancy kitchen . . .
Just Caroline.
“Josh?” she murmured. And it was no longer an oh more, more, more, Josh, but a question.
He drew his mouth away from her and looked up.
