Page 124 of Playing With Love

“Still, baby, I wanna play.”

My finger slid through her wet, dipped inside, then went back to her clit.

“Shirt off.”

She quickly divested herself of my tee. My gaze went to her tattoo. I took in the bleeding hearts, but paused on my canary. I fucking loved that tattoo, loved that she had me inked into her skin not even a week after she left me in Tucson and had kept me with her.

It didn’t take long before I got a breathy, impatient, “Tucker.”

“Reach down and get me ready for you.”

She didn’t have much room, and when she couldn’t reach where she wanted with my fingers still toying with her clit, she smacked my hand out of the way to get to my dick.

“You think that’s funny?” she asked, coming up on her knees when she had me where she wanted.

I tried to quell my smile but she was just too damn cute.

“Nope.”

One side of her mouth hitched up, and one eye narrowed, and her brow pulled down. She looked like a drunken pirate who’d lost his eye patch.

The woman just couldn’t get any more fucking adorable.

Liza dropped down, taking my cock deep. My shoulders came off the pillow, my hand tightened on her ass, and my groan rumbled from my chest.

“Hmm,” Liza hummed. “Not so funny now is it, big guy.”

Big guy.

Christ, I loved her.

I knifed up and swallowed her laughter that turned into moans when I used her hips to move her up and down.

I broke the kiss when she started panting.

“I love you, Lizzy.”

Her eyes snapped to mine. She moved faster, riding me hard, reaching for her orgasm.

It wasn’t until I felt her pussy flutter and her eyes went hazy that she moaned, “I know you do.”

Yeah, she knew. Whatever happened with her mother in her hospital room broke something loose in Liza. Night and day difference.

“In you or on you, baby?”

“In me.”

I let go, letting her climax pull me under.

Tight. Slick. Heaven.

I was still swimming up from the euphoria when I felt Liza’s lips brush over the scar on my throat. Something she’d started doing after the bandages came off. Before that, a few times a day she’d rest her hand on my throat and she’d kiss my jaw. This was something else that concerned me. Lenox had guided me to understanding that when she’d found me, I was passed out, and Allyson had told him that Liza had thought I might be dead, but still she’d pulled my body up a flight of stairs. If she needed to touch the scar to remind herself I was alive, then I needed to let her have that, too.

Her waking me every morning telling me she loved me and asking if I loved her, and kissing my scar were the only two signs of what had happened that night. Other than that, she was fine. No nightmares. No post traumatic symptoms.

“You gonna shower with me or get coffee in you?”

“Coffee.”