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“You certainly make me want to believe you’re right,” I reply honestly.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks as his erection moves between my legs.
I nod, trusting him completely.
“Is this okay?” he asks as he looks at me, waiting for my consent.
“Please,” I beg, pulling him closer.
Cash moves his lips down to mine and kisses me as he slips inside, and I gasp into his mouth at the intense feelings.
Physically and emotionally.
Completely bare inside of me, with no barrier, I give him a piece of me that I won’t be getting back. He moves slowly, in and out, and I watch in amazement, almost like it’s an out-of-body experience. The way his hips flex and his legs tense, holding him up as he crouches down to adjust himself to my height and again hits the area that makes my body tremble.
As I begin to pulse, he pulls out and I watch as the pleasure pours from him. There’s something so insanely hot watching him hold himself in that way, completely at my mercy. I have an urge to drop to my knees, to savor every drop. Without thinking, I do just that, and he groans in surprise.
“That might have been the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen…” He pants, out of breath, and stares at me in wonder. “You’re insatiable.”
I look up at him before licking his saltiness once more and then he helps me to my feet. “It’s you. I’ve never wanted a man like I want you.”
A genuine smile spreads across Cash’s face. “Now that is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Wash my hair?” I ask, remembering how much he loved to do it in Florida.
Cash moves me below the water and begins massaging my hair, kissing my forehead, then my nose, then my chin, in between lathering each strand. He’s so attentive and caring that he leaves me feeling precious and loved in his care. When he finishes washing, he steps out of the shower and grabs us both towels, holding one out for me to walk into as he hugs me dry.
“You know you’re going to make it very hard to leave you after all this attention?” I tease.
He hugs me tighter. “Then my plan is working.”
I sigh and lean back into his embrace, letting my head fall back against his chest. He kisses my nose again and pushes me forward. “Come on, let’s go get cozy in bed. I want to hold you.”
I shake my head at his sweet demands and do as I am told.
Snuggling in bed with Cash is not better than sex, but it’s a close second. Or maybe third, since having my hair washed by Cash is definitely right behind sex. God, I’m a goner for this man.
I inhale his scent, kiss his chest, and feel his body shake against me as he laughs. “Did you just sniff me, Gracie?” Sheepishly, I slink down, but he doesn’t allow it. “I love that you are as obsessed with me as I am with you. I’m seeing a whole other side of you tonight and it’s perfect.”
I smile against him. “You’re awfully needy, Whiskey.”
“Oh, you’re dragging that nickname back out again, eh?” I hear the grin in his voice.
“Seriously, though, you must have been the biggest cuddle bug when you were a kid. You’re so loving and gentle, I’m guessing you were a real momma’s boy.”
Tension pulls at Cash’s muscles, and immediately I sense I’ve stumbled upon a sensitive topic.
Dammit, I hadn’t seen anything about his mother—or his father for that matter—but since the first day I met Cash I could tell he would benefit from an older woman’s touch. He gravitated toward me, leaned into me, and seemed to take great pleasure in pleasing me with comforting acts, washing my hair, holding my hand, cuddling with me. He was looking for that love that he didn’t have as a child.
In my heart I think I already know what he is going to tell me, and I brace for the effect it will have on our relationship. “I don’t have many memories with my mother actually,” Cash says quietly, brushing the hair away from my face in a distracted movement.
“I’m sorry, Cash. We don’t have to talk about this.”
“No, I want you to know this. To know me. And it’s all connected, I guess.”
I sit silently, giving him time to collect his thoughts. “My mom got sick when I was two. I don’t even remember her, isn’t that awful? I mean, I think I remember her sometimes because I’ve seen pictures of her with my sister, brother, and me. They’ve told enough stories and I’ve heard video of her laughter, but those are all memories made after the fact. I don’t have actual memories of those things myself. I don’t remember my own mother.” He shakes his head in disbelief.“Cat was six and Carter was nine. I’m not sure who had it harder—me, who doesn’t remember, or the ones who lived through the excruciating time of loving her and losing her.”
“Oh, Cash, I’m so sorry.”
