Page 270 of One Wild Wish

“I think I’m supposed to say that to you.”

“You can say it after we make love in the shower.”

He worked his way up my body, stopping to knead my breasts, suck on my nipples. I was even wetter than before, uncharacteristic for me. Some women could go for rounds, rack up orgasms faster than a credit card bill. I was happy to have sex after a guy went down on me, but more so he could get off. A thank you for his hard work. Not with August.

I wanted him inside me, moving with me. Filling me. Over and over.

He turned the shower on while rubbing his erection against my belly. He nestled his thigh between my legs, the two of us grinding on each other. Then we were under the hot spray, kissing, stroking, but savoring, too. Not rushing to join. I followed the water that sluiced over the lean planes of his chest, each crevice of his abdomen, the defined bones of his hips. I sucked his length again and bit his thigh.

He moved behind me, exploring my spine while I splayed my hands on the cold wet tile. Hot water plastered my hair to my neck. August squeezed my ass and moved lower, tongued my crease. A tease before dipping farther south and kissing the backs of my thighs and knees.

Knees shouldn’t be erotic. Neither should elbows or ribs. August’s devout attention turned every inch of flesh into a G-spot. An E-spot. An R-spot.

New spots, each with the power to blind me.

“Now,” I murmured, dizzy with desire. “I need you now.”

“Now,” he agreed, pulling my legs back slightly.

Still behind me, his thickness brushed my ass. I sensed him bend his knees to line up with my entrance. It wasn’t low enough. I lifted to my tiptoes, but one of my feet slipped. His knee hit the shower wall.

“Shit.”

“Fuck.”

“Ow.”

“Oof.”

I fell backward into him, laughing. “Shower sex is not our forté.”

He caught me around the waist. “Everything with you is perfect.”

We wound up on the floor again, half in the shower, half out, still grinning, the water still running. I straddled his hips, couldn’t believe August Cruz was smiling up at me, laughter and love in his eyes. “Perfect,” he said again.

I lifted up, guided him below me, and lowered myself down. We both sighed, but my exhale was louder. It was full of this moment and all I wanted: to be with August, make a baby one day, a girl or boy who we’d raise in a loving home, here or abroad. Even if we had to spend time apart, we’d make it work. I wouldn’t let my insecurities rule me. I’d give that child everything I never had. With August.

I circled my hips and went to lift up and show him my heart with tender loving, our bodies meant to be joined, but he gripped my hips. “Wait.”

I squirmed. “Why?”

“I’ve never felt this.” His pupils had blown wide with intensity.

I traced his wet nose. “Felt what?”

* * *

August

Gwen was straddling me, surrounding me, all her wet heat fisting my cock, and I struggled to explain my need to hit pause. I’d experienced this base pleasure with women before, the burn before the release. But I was still amused by mine and Gwen’s fumbled shower sex attempt, how I’d loved tripping over her and winding up on the floor—again. There was no awkward moment. No hesitancy or embarrassment.

And I was bare in her. We wouldn’t try for a baby until we were solid, but being nestled in her, balls deep, at peace yet rock hard, imagining our future and coming inside her soon: I just couldn’t find the words.

I gathered my breath and did the best I could. “I didn’t know what love was until you.”

Laughter. Fumbles. Fuck-ups. Forgiveness. And this fever. This hot, thick lust waiting to explode because of the woman who’d taught me the meaning of life.

“Then love me,” she said, rocking on me as much as I’d let her.