“Lie back down.And let me look.”
I lie back down.
I let him look.
His eyes trace every part of me, everycurve, every rise and fall and secret nook.
Thenhe strips slowly, letting me watch. I’veseen himnakedbefore, but in the soft light of the loft, with the stove glow climbing the walls, I see him fully. He’shuge and scarredand warm. The tattoo over his ribs is three names in fine black script, and I knowallof themnow.I know what they mean to him.Along, pale scarextends from beneathhisribs to his hip onhisrightside.I haven’t asked aboutit. I don’t ask now. I trace it with myfingertip, and he closes his eyes and shudders.
Hiseyesareon mineashe settles between my thighs on the wool blanket, hishuge hand splayedover mystomach, anchoring me. He looks at me there for a moment, his breath ragged.
He kisses my shoulder, my collarbone, the soft place under my ear that makes me sigh. He kisses my breast, taking my nipple into his mouth until my back arches off the blanket and my hands thread through his hair. He kisses the softgiveof my stomach. The inside of my wrist where the pulse is fast and stupid for him.
Working his way down, he kisses the curve of my hip and the inside of my knee. He kisses the place where my thigh meets my body.
“Tess.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to take my time.”
Oh, God.
He puts his mouth on me, spearing his tongue throughintimate flesh.
My moan is low andwanton. He hums against me, likeI'vejust told him a secret, and the vibration of it goes through me like a struck note.
Histongueslides over me inbroad,patientstrokes. Then morespecific, finding the spot that makes me arch, working it with focused attention. His hand on mystomachis heavy and grounding. His other hand slides down to my hip, holding me steady, his thumb stroking absently against my skin as ifhe'smemorizing me.
“Sullivan.”
“Mm?”
“Don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t going to.”
His tongue circlesandpresses. His mouth seals over my clit,and he sucks, gentlythenharder. Two thickfingers slide into me, slow and deep, curling, finding the place inside me thatmakes me whimper.
“Sullivan?”
“I have you.”
“I’m—”
“I have you, Tess. Let go.”
I come slowly. I come hard. My back arches and my hand fists in his hair and the heat of him goes through me in long pulls. His mouth is on me the whole time, his hand splayed wide on my stomach so he can feel every shudder. Hedoesn'tstop until I do. Hedoesn'tlift his head until my hand goes slack in his hair and myboneless body melts into the mattress.
He kisses the inside of my thigh,the curve of my hip.
Moving up over me, he braces on his forearms. His eyes are wet. He doesn’t pretend they aren’t.
“I want,” he says roughly, “to ask you to come home with me.”
“Home where, Sullivan?”
“Havenstone.” His forehead presses to mine. “When the cabin’s stable. When the contractors are done. I want to call Henry, take the spot in the vet’s program. And I want you with me.”
