Page 72 of York

When he moved again, it was the slowest of thrusts.

The gentleness then felt like it cracked something open inside me, and he just poured in.

I cried out against his lips as, little by little, even his slow movements started to drive me up.

The sounds escaping me were soul-deep and full of a longing that was more than physical.

York broke the kiss, pushing up enough to look down at me as he moved.

There was a catch in my chest.

And then the orgasm moved through me in a deep, breathless surge, every muscle locking before releasing completely.

Seeming to sense I wasn’t going to be able to keep going, he pressed deep, groaning out a curse as he came.

He slid off to the side afterward, his body still touching mine, anchoring me, as my body tried to recover.

His hand slid gently down my side, over my belly, then up again.

“You okay?” All I could manage to that was a strange garbled sound. It got a soft chuckle out of York as his fingers kept whispering over my skin.

“Denny was coloring you again?” I asked, touching his forearm where his forest tattoo was colored in bright primary colors.

“She’s angry my tattoos aren’t colorful like some of the other guys.”

“She does love her colors. Is this New York?” I asked, finger tracing over one of the pine trees.

“Yeah.”

“Where you hid a body?”

A chuckle escaped him. “I wouldn’t put the location of evidence on my skin, no. My old man had a cabin in the woods here. Not far from the stream. I regret not being able to buy it myself. But I’d moved down here to take care of my grandfather who was dying and it just… slipped through the cracks.”

“I didn’t know that about your grandfather.”

“How could you?” he asked, shrugging.

“You were a good grandson to come down here and take care of him.”

“Not really. It’s what you do.”

I winced. “I don’t know if I could do that for my grandfather.”

“Not an easy man?”

“The hardest of men. My parents were pretty absent in my life. I mean, they were around. But they just didn’t really do the whole parenting thing. And we all lived on my grandfather’s ranch, so he kind of took it upon himself to ‘raise me up right’.”

“But you were a headstrong kid.”

“I was. And no amount of beating me with a belt could make me want to bend to his will.”

York’s fingers tightened on my hip, likely viewing the way I now viewed my childhood: seeing it through Denny’s eyes. I couldn’t imagine ever raising a hand to her, let alone a belt.

“Makes sense why you took off as soon as you were old enough.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“You’ve never been back?”