“Wes?”
His body stiffened, and he glanced back at me over his shoulder. He smiled. “Hi.” He stood to his full height and closed the distance between us. Searching my eyes, he caressed my face, trailed his thumb down my neck, and kissed me. It wasn’t a demanding kiss, it wasn’t a prelude to me bent over the couch as he made fast love to me. It was sweet, gentle—so endearing that tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheek.
The soft touch of his fingers to my face, brushing my tears away, made me want to weep. There was a tenderness to Wes that he showed only me. And that had always made me feel special, treasured.
“You’re crying,” he whispered.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, I am.”
He tilted his head, searching my eyes. “Are you okay?”
Instead of answering, I held his gaze. “I should be askingyouthat.”
He flashed a lopsided smirk. “I’m not the one crying.”
I reached up, running my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw. “I just … never thought we’d end up here again.”
“Any regrets?” he asked, his voice low.
I shook my head. “None.”
Then, his hands were on me, like balm over dry skin. Everywhere. Brushing across my neck, over my shoulders, down my back. On my ass. He hooked his hands under my knees and lifted me into his arms, pinning me against the window.
“I need something,” he murmured against my mouth.
“What?”
I felt him, hard against my core through his boxer briefs. He rubbed his thick erection against me, stealing my breath as my nerve endings sparked to life. The fabric against my sensitive skin provided a delicious friction. He moved slowly, fucking me but not actually fucking me. But it was so hot, so intense, so …Oh God.
Wes raked his finger through my hair and licked my face as he pressed into me. His low rumble vibrated against my breasts, and I almost begged him to take his shirt off of me so that I could feel him against me, skin to skin. But I didn’t have to, because seconds later, his shirt was open and hanging off my shoulders. And his mouth …
Shit.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing me, winding me up as he continued his lazy movements. An orgasm started low in my belly, building into a crescendo that threatened to shatter my mind, my heart. It felt good. He felt good.
Warmth bloomed through me, spread out to every inch of my body. I was close. So close. “Right there,” I whispered.
“That’s right. Let go.” He kissed me. Still soft. Still sweet. “Remember who makes you feel this way.”
I groaned. “You.”
“Only me.”
Then I felt the pad of his thumb against my clit, and I was gone, climaxing so long, so hard that I nearly blacked out.
Seconds later, my body still trembled from that orgasm. And it still wasn’t enough. I wanted him inside me for real, but then he set me down and pulled the shirt up.
Slowly, he buttoned me up, his knuckles grazing my nipples. “Wes,” I breathed, peering up at him through hooded eyes. “What are you doing?”
A soft smile formed on his lips. “Covering you up.”
“Why?”
He chuckled. “Because we have things to do today. Jeanette mentioned Granny has some free time on her schedule in about an hour. And I know you want to talk to Grandma Liv.”
Shit, he’s right. Folding my arms over my chest, I muttered, “Fine.”
“We can finish this later”—he kissed my brow—“when I have more time.” He smacked my butt. “Get dressed. I’ll make some breakfast.”
