Page 76
“Accurate so far.”
His mouth touches the inside of my thigh. “I intend to complete the record.”
The first stroke of his tongue ends right on my clit. My hand goes into his hair to keep him there, and he learns the change in my breathing and settles into a steady, relentless rhythm. His hand on my hip is light enough that I can move. I lift into his mouth instead.
“Again,” I say.
He does it again. He circles me tight until pleasure pulls in low and exact. Knowing he’ll stop the instant I ask lets me take all the rest. I come with my fingers knotted in his hair, and he only gentles when my grip does.
He kisses the inside of my thigh and gets up. No triumph. No request for gratitude. Just a rancher with dust in one boot seam and my taste on his mouth.
I pull him down and kiss him and put the condom on him myself. I lie back across the bed with my hips at the edge and my feet planted on either side of his legs, so he can stand between my thighs without putting one pound of weight through that shoulder. I take him in my hand and guide him to me.
“Here.”
He pushes into me in one controlled stroke. The stretch pulls a sound out of both of us. I shift my hips half an inch and hook a leg around his good thigh and bring him deeper, until the angle is mine.
He holds still while I adjust. Then his good hand closes on my hip, and his eyes lock on my face.
“My pace now?”
I tighten my leg around him. “Use it.”
He pulls back and drives into me hard enough to move me on the coverlet without losing the angle. The next one goes deeper. I meet him and hold him where it’s best with my hand at his waist.
His control is different than it was the first night. It isn’t proof anymore that he can keep every risk inside his reach. It’s timing and attention and the discipline to use only what I gave him.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do. His thumb moves from my hip to my clit and presses as he thrusts, and the coordination costs him, and watching him spend it on me sends another wave through me.
“I love you,” he says, with his body in mine. “God, I love you.”
“I know,” I say. “I love you. Don’t stop.”
“Never.”
It lands with him deep inside me and his thumb circling where I’m still sensitive from his mouth. I catch his wrist and adjust the pressure instead of making him guess, and he follows without slowing.
“Garrett.”
“Take it.”
I come around him with my eyes open. His pace breaks once and then steadies, and he eases the pressure when I tighten my grip on his wrist, and gives me two more deep strokes before his jaw locks.
“Now,” I tell him.
He drives in and comes, and he stays upright through it, shaking once under my hand, careful even now not to fold onto his bad arm.
Afterward, I build him a nest of pillows and check the dressing and put water where his good hand can find it, and I lie down next to him because I want the distance closed.
My work phone buzzes on the nightstand.
The first message says the compliance review will proceed normally. No finding. No shortened deadline. My response can include the breach record and today’s evidence.
The second is from the former client whose board chose comfort over my audit two years ago.
Our new compliance chair reviewed the Barbed Crown preservation record. If you’re accepting work after this matter, we’d like to discuss a new engagement, with reporting lines management can’t change.
