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I watch Jackson go, then turn back to Mylo. “You…” I take a step towards where he’s standing by the bottom step. “Are quickly becoming my favorite person.”
He slides his hands up my arms, then back down to my elbows. “Good to know.” He takes my hand and tugs me to follow him.
I let him lead me up the stairs.My stairs.Tomyroof terrace. I still can’t believe it. I’m so busy taking in every sturdy wooden step it takes me a second to figure out what I’m seeing when I get to the top.
A picnic rug and a cool box. My mouth falls open and I turn to him. “What’s this?”
He leans back on the waist-high wall around the roof, scratches his forehead and glances from the blanket on the floor to me. “Too much?”
“That depends on what’s in the cool box?”
“Laia’s mango pie and beer.”
My favorite. “In that case.” My grin’s now so wide my cheeks ache. No man has ever gone to this much trouble for me. Ever. I turn to him fully and press my hands to his abs, leaning into him, my head tipped back to look him in the face.
His smirk twitches, his gray eyes crinkled at the sides. “In that case?” He tucks my hair behind my ear, his gaze drops to my lips, then jumps back up to my eyes.
“You did good.” I wet my lips and lift onto my toes to press a kiss to his mouth. Sawdust and salt water and man fill my nose. “So good.” I slide my hands down his warm skin, over the ridge of each ab until I reach his tool belt. An idea of how I can thank him for today takes shape and settles low in my belly. We did many things last night, but this wasn’t one of them. He stopped me whenever I got close.
The belt drops with a heavy thud to the tiled floor.
I hold his stare and slide the button from its catch. “Do you trust me, Mylo?”
“I do.” Tension straightens his shoulders and lowers his brows like he knows exactly what I’m planning. “Kenzi, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I lower his zip slowly, the sound of the ocean and our breathing mixing on the warm breeze. I kiss his mouth again and slip my hand into his shorts. Drop down off my toes and kiss his shoulder. His pec. The dip between them. He hardens against my touch. The feel of him—touching him like this will never get old. “Let me thank youmyway.”
I push his shorts down and drop to my knees before he can stop me.
When I glance up, his head’s tipped back, hands fisted at his sides and for a second, I doubt myself. He lookspained. Not exactly what I was going for.
“Hey, look at me,” I whisper and take him in my hand. Heavy, hard, hot.
Jaw tight, he lowers his head.
“Would pre-cancer Mylo have turned me down?” I cock my head and work him to the tip, then back to the hilt, eyes still on his face.
“No.” His brows lower even further, but he can’t seem to stop the tiny thrust of his hips or the sharpening of his breaths.
“That’s what I thought.” I flick my gaze to the swollen tip of him, then back up to his face, sliding my hand over the length of him again, waiting for him to either get on board with this or to push me away. “Your move.”
Seconds pass. He doesn’t move. I sit back on my heels, some of my confidence in this idea seeping from me.
But before I unwrap my fingers from him, his big hand covers mine, tightens my grip on him and he works himself with both our hands. The sight heats my skin and picks up my heartbeat until my throat’s pulsing and my mouth’s watering.
“Open.”
His gruff order lifts every tiny hair on the back of my neck.This. This is the real him. The man he was before life got twisted on him. And I amherefor it.
The first touch of him against my lips has my nipples pebbling against my bra and my thighs pressing together.
His grunt spurs me on. I take as much of him as I can.
“That’s it.” He runs a finger down my hollowed cheek, pushes in until he touches the back of my throat, then pulls back. Then repeats with slow, deep thrusts, that make my jaw ache in the best way.
I moan and run my free hand up the inside and cup his sack, my heart thundering in my chest. One ball. It doesn’t bother me, but I know it bothers him, and until he believes that I don’t care, it’s going to keep on bothering him.
His whole body stills as I rub my thumb over the soft skin. The hand covering mine freezes, and I swear he softens in my mouth, not much, but enough. He’s losing the battle to stay out of his head. I suck. Hum. Take him so deep my eyes water. But I don’t move my hand.
