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“I missed all your sounds,” he said, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking before blowing a stream of cool air across it. She squirmed under him, and he held her wrists down when she tried to grab on to his hair as he kissed down her belly. “Hold on to the pillows.”
She did, stretching her arms above her head, and he had her leggings and panties off in one long pull. Lowering his head, he took a deep breath, letting it heat her naked skin as he wrapped his arms under her legs so they curled around her thighs, holding them open. He brushed his lips over her slick skin, and she shuddered in response. It had been so long, her body practically pulsed with need.
“And I missed the way you taste.” His words vibrated against her before his tongue took over, alternating between licking and sucking until she smothered her face with the pillow, screaming his name into it.
The heat on her skin had only just subsided when Chris yanked the pillow away. He was above her, gloriously naked, and she studied every inch of him. She took in his new look—slightly bigger and stronger—the thick muscle at his shoulder that he hadn’t had when he left Pennsylvania, and the defined abs. Her eyes stopped at a tattoo on the left side of his chest above his heart.
He’d never mentioned it before, the three lines written in small script.
Be with me always
Take any form
Drive me mad
She said the words out loud, remembering what book they were from. “You read WutheringHeights?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the tattoo then lifted back to her. “You’re with me always. Even on days when we played phone tag or days when we argued or days we didn’t talk at all. You were with me.”
Bronte grabbed the back of his head, pulling him toward her for a biting kiss, one that let him know how much she missed him and how much it meant to hear how he missed her. She brought her hand between them, wrapping her fingers around his erection.
“And I missed the way you feel.” She tightened her grip, and he let out a throaty groan, holding himself up so he could watch as she guided him into her wet sex. He dragged his eyes back up her body when he was fully buried inside her before pumping his hips, exhaling harshly.
“I’m sorry for leaving, baby. I should have given us more time together. I’m so sorry.” He moved his right hand to her breast, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her nipple. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, finding the spot deep inside that made her cry out.
Her eyes filled with tears at the sensation, and hearing his murmured words hit a chord deep in her heart. All her worry, all the missed calls and nights alone, didn’t matter anymore. Not when they finally were together like this. An orgasm racked her body, the waves never-ending as Chris plunged himself into her, faster and harder, all the while still whispering apologies into her ear.
With one final push, he fell on top of her, kissing her eyes, nose, and cheeks before resting his head against her chest. “I can hear your heart beating a mile a minute.”
“It was quite a wake-up call, Mr. Cunningham.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And since your lips are on my boob, I’m going to assume that’s not you licking my foot.”
Chris whipped his head up. “Taco!”
The dog scampered away.
“Self-esteem issues?” she asked, laughing. “Seems more like a pervert.”
“What can I say?” He stood up, holding out his hand. “Takes after his dad.” He pressed a kiss to Bronte’s neck when she stood. “Since you’re wide awake now, what do you want to do?”
“I want the official tour.”
First, he took her to the bathroom, where he had spread out her toiletries how she liked. After they showered together, he escorted her through the four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and game room—stripper pole included—before circling back to the kitchen, where Bronte’s gaze skirted to the patio doors and the pool, glistening with the midmorning rays.
“Want to go swimming?” he asked.
“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“Not a problem.” He opened the door and stepped outside. “We’re completely secluded. You don’t need one.”
Bronte bit her lip, her neck swiveling right and left for proof of seclusion.
“The only people who can see you are skydivers with good binoculars and God.” When she didn’t move from her spot, he dipped his foot in to feel the temperature, let his shorts fall to the deck, and dove in.
Coming up to the surface, he swam over the edge, resting his chin on his hands, taunting her. “Come on, where’s my bold Bronte?”
