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She eyes me with annoyance. “I take it that version of the story is making you feel really good about yourself, huh?”
“Yeah.” I press a kiss to her mouth and nip at her bottom lip. “But I also know that’s not a version of the story. It’s the truth.”
“Whatever you say, Ty.”
“Admit it,” I whisper into her ear and use one hand to brush her hair off her shoulder. “You wanted to give me your panties.” My lips are at her neck, and I don’t hesitate to reach my tongue out and taste her sweet skin. “Damn, Rachel, I thought that night was hot to begin with, but this new information, well, it takes it up one thousand fucking notches.”
“What?” She leans back to look into my eyes. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I take one of her pert nipples into my mouth and suck. “And now, because of all that, it’s time for round two.”
“Round two?”
“Yeah, doll. Round two.” I punctuate that statement by pressing my hard cock against her. “I need to be inside you. Again. Right now.”
Rachel doesn’t balk at my demand.
Not my sweet Rachel. She’s always game.
“Ohhhh, round two,” she muses and flutters her eyelashes dramatically before tossing herself back onto the bed and throwing her hands out beside her. “Fuck me like I’m one of your French girls, Jack!”
Titanic. She just quoted Titanic. Well, almost. Fucking hell, how can one woman be sexy and adorable at the same time?
“Uhh…” I pause on a laugh as I remove my boxer briefs and toss them to the floor. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that went, but I’ll work with it, Rose.”
She giggles, grins, and then, she surprises the fuck out of me by placing her hands on my shoulders, climbing back onto my lap, and slowly easing herself onto my cock. Inch by inch, she takes all of me inside her. And fuck if I don’t feel equal parts proud and in awe of her.
No other woman on the planet compares.
“You’re the best,” I say and grip her gorgeous hips, guiding her movements with mine. “The fucking best.”
I swear, if I end up fucking us to death tonight, I’ll die a happy man.
We’ve only been in our hotel suite for four or so hours, and I’m realizing that orgasms make Rachel sleepy.
After we fucked ourselves senseless, I made a quick phone call to room service, and despite how badly I wanted to wake Rachel up for round number four—or is it five?—I let her sleep and busied myself with the task of a hot shower.
Shower number two, mind you, but one that was horribly boring in comparison to the first one that occurred inside this hotel bathroom.
I take my time, knowing that room service won’t be here for at least another forty minutes, and by the time I’m clean, dry, and dressed enough to answer the door, I step back out of the bathroom.
Though, I’m shocked to find that sleeping beauty is no longer sleeping.
Still completely naked, but with a pen in her hand, she has a furrowed brow as she writes something on the flesh of her right thigh. She’s completely engrossed in whatever she’s doing and not the least bit aware of my presence in the bedroom.
“Hey there,” I greet, my voice quiet so I don’t startle. But when she doesn’t respond, doesn’t look up, I try again. “Rachel?”
Green eyes wide, she jolts her gaze upward until it meets mine.
“What are you doing?”
“Uh…” She pauses and glances down at her naked body for a brief moment before meeting my curious gaze again. “I’m sure this looks strange, huh?”
“Not strange,” I correct her. “More like, interesting.”
“Well…” A self-deprecating laugh leaves her lips. “I’m…writing?”
“On your skin?”
“Yeah?” she answers, though it’s more of a question than a statement.
“So…pen and skin is your preferred method?” I smile as I walk over toward the bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress that’s closest to her. “I wouldn’t say it’s the most efficient method, but definitely the most fascinating one I’ve seen.” With one index finger, I reach out and gently trace the words she’s etched on her thigh.
In a garden of weeds
beneath ash and dust and dirt
and not a flower in sight
hope bloomed.
“Hi, my name is Rachel Rose, and I’m a weirdo,” she whispers quietly through an embarrassed giggle. When I look up to meet her eyes, she cringes. Though, I don’t know why she’s cringing. This is the most adorable, intriguing fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Do you do this often?”
“When I was a kid? Yes,” she answers with a little shrug of her bare shoulder. “But for the past several years? No. Not at all.”
I stare down at her skin again, tracing the words again with my finger, and smile. “This is beautiful.”
“You think so?” Her voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it.
