He broke the pressure of his mouth on hers and left a trail of kisses to her breast then pulled the taut peak into his mouth to suckle gently even as he moved his hand lower still, coming to rest on her mons. He didn’t go any lower, and she opened her legs a little wider, granting him access without a word, though there was no silencing her sharp indrawn breath or the fact that she lifted her hips into his hand. She couldn’t stop the impatience that skittered through her.
He chuckled lightly, the vibration of which reverberated throughout her entire body, tickling her, adding to the tension building within her. “Patience,” he whispered against her breast but she wasn’t having any of that.
She was done with patience. She knew what she wanted—to feel him inside her—and she wanted it now so much so that she grabbed his hand and placed it where she wanted it, at the juncture of her thighs.
He obliged by slipping his fingers through the springy curls surrounding that sacred place, parting her folds to find the very core of her. Tresia let out a sigh as his fingers slid against the wetness gathered there, then groaned as he slipped one finger into her, then another, stretching her, filling her.
She was ready. More than ready, her body preparing for the physical explosion she could feel building. And then it happened. Faster than she thought possible as his fingers moved in and out of her in a slow, then fast rhythm, and she couldn’tstop the shout of satisfaction that escaped her as her body pulsed around his fingers, her nails digging into his back.
She stiffened, just a bit, a little embarrassed she’d lost control so completely, so quickly, then melted as he moved slightly and settled between her thighs. He pushed into her, inch by incredible inch, stretching her to accommodate his width and girth and then he started moving in her, again slowly as if he didn’t want to hurt her, perhaps knowing how big he was and how long it had been for her. And she didn’t care how long it had been. She wanted this. Now. Her hips rose up to meet his, searching for the pure joy she knew they could share.
And then all thinking ceased, and she was left to just feel—the heat of him, the heaviness, the exquisite building of bliss waiting to explode again. She could feel it happening as her nails dug into the taut flesh of his backside, urging him faster. His strokes became longer, stronger, as he nearly pulled all the way out of her only to push back in, his whispered words telling her she was beautiful, telling her she felt so good, telling her he needed her as he built momentum so she could touch the stars once more.
The horrors of his day didn’t exactly disappear but became more bearable within the heat of Tresia’s body. He had thought her comforting before, soothing his soul in ways he’d never imagined, but this—feeling her warmth all around him, hearing her little cries of satisfaction—this is what he needed—and wanted. The comfort was still there, but there was so much more.
He hadn’t lied when he told her she was all that’s good in the world.
He felt her stiffen as he plunged into her, then heard her cry out, not in pain, but in joy, and finally, finally, he could let himself go. He pushed into her, harder, faster, the muscles in his arms bunching, his heart racing, until he couldn’t control himself any longer and spilled his seed into her warm, willing body.
He didn’t speak. There were no words. It was so much more than mere satisfaction. So much more than the comfort she offered, the heat of her body pulsating around him. He stayed within her warmth, finding her mouth once more to tangle his tongue with hers.
And though he didn’t want to, he slowly withdrew from her, and rolled to his side, bringing her with him, his body relaxed, his mind no longer shadowed, or filled with self-loathing and guilt.
“Devlin?”
He didn’t respond, simply held her tighter, her body conforming to his, letting her warmth and understanding seep into him.
“I should go,” she whispered, her warm breath ruffling the hair on his chest. “Before Avery wakes up.”
He stiffened then forced himself to relax and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’d rather you stay. Avery expects to see you in the kitchen when she gets up.”
She snuggled a little closer and rested her hand on his cheek. “People will talk.”
“They will.” He laughed sardonically. “They’ll talk anyway. Gossip spreads faster than a prairie fire around here.” He turned slightly so he could face her in the semi-darkness. If there were worry lines on her face, he couldn’t see them, though he did hear a touch of anxiety in her voice. “But I don’t think it’ll be about you staying here.” He paused as his fingers gently caressed her arm, trying to see into her eyes in the darkness, though he knewhe couldn’t. “I’m not ready to let you go.” He molded his lips to hers before he broke the kiss. “I need you, Tresia.”
He did need her. And not just now. She was his light in the darkness. The comfort he so desperately craved but hadn’t known he needed. “Stay with me.” He claimed her mouth in a kiss and when she wrapped her arms around him, his heart lightened.
CHAPTER 15
Delvin awoke to the sound of birdsong and bright sunlight shining in his face. It took all of two minutes to realize he wasn’t in his own bed and to remember why.
He’d made love to Tresia Morgan.
Not once or twice, but three times.
Tresia was a wonderful, loving, generous woman. And more.
He smiled as he stretched out his hand, fully expecting her to still be there. He touched an empty pillow. He opened his eyes as he turned his head and stared at the place she should have been. He ran his hand over the empty space. Still warm. She hadn’t been gone long.
He rose and dressed quickly, picking up his clothes from the floor where he’d dropped them. Barefoot, he wandered to the kitchen then stopped in the doorway and leaned against the door jamb just to watch her, the smell of freshly brewed coffee drifting to his nose.
She’d twisted her long auburn hair into a tight bun at the back of her head again. He’d rather see it as he did last night, the silky tresses flowing over her shoulders, covering her breasts, the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle subtle yet still staying with him. His gaze shifted from her hair to the white blouse she wore,which was slightly wrinkled, probably from lying crumpled on the floor. His focus lowered to her backside and hips, which swayed as she bustled about, preparing breakfast. His smile widened. Her hips may be swaying gently now, but last night, they’d been bucking to meet him stroke for stroke. “Good morning.”
She jumped, startled, the egg in her hand dropping to the floor, then she turned around quickly to face him. Spots of color adorned her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled, the violet color deeper, richer, more vibrant. “Oh, Devlin!” And quickly on the heels of that, she apologized. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He gestured to the shattered egg on the floor. “Breaking an egg?”
“No, for…for last night.” Her voice was much more strained than usual, as if she fought tears, though why she should, he couldn’t begin to fathom.
