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Then the movements stop, and a complete silence falls.
I hold my breath as he sets my hair band down on the mattress, and then he brushes my hair aside to reveal the back of my neck with both hands. Ever so slowly, slowly seducing my body, my mind, and my heart, like only he can, he traces the curve of my nape with the rough pad of one of his fingers.
Delicious tingles run through my body as he lowers his dark head to my neck, the deep male pleasure in his voice unmistakable. “What’s this,” he murmurs, licking it softly.
I feel his tongue rasp over my skin, and my heart flutters for him.
“Whatever it’s on, it means it’s yours,” I breathe. He buries his head in the side of my throat and smells me, murmuring, “That’s right,” then he turns me around by the chin so he can take my mouth and kiss me, long and hard. Remington Tate. My love, my husband, my baby’s beautiful father, kissing me gently as his fingers trace the tattoo on the back of my neck that says simply.
