When we returned to the hotel room she’d slipped into joggers and a tank top, no bra. I’d tried not to read too much into it at the time, but right now it hadeasy accesswritten all over. Maybe subconsciously she wanted this as much as I did.
My hand skimmed her abdomen and I was finally getting a glimpse of the ink she swore I’d never see. I peeled her shirt up so I could see her tattoo. A colorful Phoenix rising from the ashes.
We shared a smile before I whispered, “Perfect.”
She started unbuttoning my shirt and pushing it off my shoulders. She studied the newest tattoo on my chest. A music staff with lyrics. A line from the song I’d written about her.
“Wow,” she whispered, tracing it with her fingertip. “This is amazing.”
I glanced down, watching her outline it slowly, methodically, before her eyes finally met mine.
“Every night in my dreams, you come to me,” she said softly, reciting the lyrics.
“It’s true. Closing my eyes without seeing your face got tougher with every night that passed. I eventually learned that drinking myself into a stupor and passing out was the only way to avoid it.”
“Mav.” She pulled me closer, wrapping her arms around me. “I hate that we loved each other so much… and still destroyed each other.”
“It’s my fault—”
She silenced me with a kiss. “No more guilt. No more blame. Okay?”
I nodded, knowing the only way to get past this was to finally let it go. And tonight, in this room, with Codie in my arms, felt like the right time to metaphorically set fire to all those bad memories and watch them burn.
I slid my hand up her tank top, cupping her full breast as I whispered in her ear, “You need me to stop, just say the word.” I couldn’t live with myself if she woke up with morning-after regret because I’d pushed her too hard.
“I’m a big girl, Mav.” She threaded her hands through my hair, locking eyes with me. “I know what I want and what I don’t. And right now, I want you… inside of me.”
“Sweet Jesus.” I dipped my head, willing my lungs to breathe. “Keep saying stuff like that I’ll be lucky to last five minutes.”
She giggled, sliding her hands over my ribs. “I doubt that will be a problem.”
She was right, because I’d cut off the damn appendage before I ever left her unsatisfied.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said, reaching for my belt buckle.
I stood so I could take my time undressing for her. I’d spent grueling hours in the gym, trying to work out all my self-hatred, and I wanted her to see that it had paid off. I also wanted to erase, in her mind, the image of the boy I’d been and replace it with the man I was now. A man who knew how to treat her like a queen. In and out of bed.
She sunk her teeth into her lower lip, her eyes were hooded as she watched me take it all off.
“Your turn,” I whispered, crawling over her, supporting my weight on my hands.
“I’ll let you do the honors.” Her smile was filled with promise, and I couldn’t wait for her to make good.
I peeled her clothes off slowly, watching her, in case I saw even a hint of reluctance etched on her beautiful face. I didn’t. Like me, she was all in.
I traced the curves of her body with my mouth, my tongue, savoring the softness, and the sweet scent that was unique to her. By the time I reached the apex of her thighs, my mouth was watering as I inched her legs apart and settled between them. Her soft cries echoed through the room as I pleasured her, reminding me that intoxication could come in many forms. I could forgo the bottle for the rest of my life if I could get drunk on her every night.
I could tell when she was edging closer to her release. Her body tensed. She dug her heels into the mattress and her nails into my shoulders. Her head was thrashing on the soft pillow, and my name fell from her lips like a curse and a plea.
I wanted to draw it out, to memorize every second of this experience so long nights alone on the road would feel more bearable if I believed I had her to come home to.
Her final sob shook me as her body trembled with the force of her release. The privilege of being intimate with the girl of my dreams was everything. And I knew I’d never be stupid enough to take it for granted again.
Her hands traced my biceps, my ribs, and finally my face as she looked into my eyes. “Only you,” she whispered, “can make me feel like that, Mav.”
I swelled with a strange mix of pride and jealousy. I loved that I could still make her feel good, but hated myself for giving other men the opportunity to pleasure her when that right should have been solely mine… if I hadn’t felt the need to save her from the cruelty that was my addiction.
“I’m glad,” I said, with a lop-sided smile, determined to bury any feelings that could rob us of this moment. “And I intend to burn it in your memory, how good it feels with me, so youneverwant anyone else.”
