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Taking the hem of the blouse in both hands, he ripped it apart. The buttons went flying. She laughed, loved knowing she was his now—that there was no going back. Not ever.
He made fast work of the bra’s front clasp, the plastic tab cracking as he broke it apart. “You are so beautiful.” It was like he was looking at her anew, making everything fresh.
As he bent down to take the peak of one breast in his mouth, she shuddered with joy, with ecstasy, with desire, with love—and with the potent knowledge that this gorgeous man, this brave man, this loyal, caring, strong man, was all hers.
* * *
She kissed him until there was only sensation. Only Rosie. She hadn’t only helped him remember how to laugh, she’d brought him back to life, showing him that he was capable of loving again. That he was worthy of her love.
He’d already torn off her blouse, and as he yanked down her white jeans and threw them in a corner, he knew exactly why she’d wanted everything shredded. To destroy the last vestige of connection to her ex, even the clothes she’d worn into battle.
Then she was naked on top of him. “There hasn’t been anyone for me, not since Jorge was born, and I’m on the Pill for my cycle. And since you said there hasn’t been anyone for you in a long time—”
“Yes,” he said, unable to let her finish the thought when he was so completely on board. “A thousand times yes.” Then he captured her mouth with a kiss, and together they undid his pants and tugged off his shirt.
Her skin against his, her mouth on him as she kissed every inch of bare flesh, along his jaw, down his neck, over his chest—every sensation was glorious, taking him higher, to places he’d never been. Until she took him in her hands and turned him mindless with the dangerous things she did to him, caressing, stroking, adoring.
Moments later, he flipped her onto her back so fast that she gasped. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her eyebrows, her eyelids, stopping for a long sweet kiss on the mouth before he worked his way down her beautiful body, not missing a single square inch.
And there were the parts he lingered on. That sensitive spot right below her ear. The crook of her neck. Her breasts. Her belly. And just when she must have thought—and maybe hoped and prayed—that he was finally going to taste the very center of her, he turned her over and started on her back. He loved the way she squirmed under him, loved the little sounds of pleasure she made as he followed up each kiss with a long swipe of his tongue.
“Gideon.”
Ah, yes, it was close enough to begging. And he gave in to her plea, slipping his hand between her legs, coming up under her to find the sweet spot. His name fell from her lips again and again as she climaxed, her voice drenched with passion and love.
When Gideon finally gathered her up in his arms and carried her into the rain shower, her beautiful features were still dazed with pleasure. It was the luxury he loved most about the place, the one thing he’d had to have. Maybe because he’d had a premonition that one day he would hold Rosie against him as he stood under the rain showerhead. The water was instantly warm, and he let her slide down his body until she was standing, her head tipped back, eyes closed, as she soaked up the rainfall cascading over her.
With his heart pounding harder than ever before—heck, every part of him was harder than ever before—he poured soap into his palm and lathered her body, massaging it into her neck, her back, her breasts.
Going down on his haunches, he soaped her thighs, her calves, lifting one foot to work it, then the other, while she clung to his shoulders. He rose again to wash her hair with his shampoo, wanting his scents all over her.
When he washed the soap away, she finally opened her eyes. “Your turn,” her voice low and sexy and seductive.
His legs trembled as she soaped and rinsed his erection, then licked the very tip of him while she washed his legs. She stood to lather his chest, his arms, his back and shoulders.
Her touch, her kisses, pushed him to the edge. He couldn’t wait a second longer, hauling her up until she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
Though his body urged him to drive into her in one hard thrust, his heart knew better. Knew how sweet it would be to enter her so very slowly, so very gently, as she opened her mouth and he took her with his tongue.
And oh…it was pure, sweet, heady sensation. The feel of Rosie as they became one, no barriers between them, was like nothing he’d ever known, nothing he could ever imagine.
She closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the shower wall, and moaned as he took her—and she owned him in every way. Her cheeks were flushed, her nostrils flared, her lips parted as her body gripped him tight. Air puffed through his teeth as he held on to his control by only a thread. Until he felt her legs tightening, her muscles working, her skin heating.
At last, he blasted off, crying out, wrapping himself in the circle of her arms. And the soft beat of her voice, “I need you, Gideon. All of you.”
It was all the encouragement it took, and he gave them both what they so badly needed, a ride straight up to heaven together. Always and forever together.
* * *
Gideon was so tender as he patted every drop of water from Rosie’s body, then towel-dried her hair, drawing the comb through without breaking a single strand.
“I forgot to bring more clothes.” She hadn’t packed for an extended stay.
“What makes you think you’re going to need any clothes tonight?” He wrapped her in his big fluffy robe, and she breathed in his scent, loving it. Loving him.
“Only while I make you a Rosie special for dinner,” she told him. Given all the calories they’d just burned, he must be as starved as she was.
He smiled in the mirror, holding her against him, her back to his front. “What’s a Rosie special?”
