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“You weren’t kidding.” Rudy’s voice is full of smoke, his lips taking mine once more.
I moan into his kiss as his fingers move over me, finding that hard bud at the top of my sex to tease and pinch and touch.
“Stop me any time you need to,” Rudy says, his voice so full of gravel it’s a wonder I can tell the words apart. He pulls away and looks down to where his hand disappears into my pants.
For a brief, biting moment, I think about what I’m doing. I realize I’m nearly naked with a man in my kitchen, pretending nothing else exists. As the cool air of my kitchen kisses my skin, I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest.
This is my body, and it will change. This time next year, I’ll have scars and stretch marks and puckered skin, and for the first time in seven weeks, the thought doesn’t terrify me.
It’s still my body.
My breast will be removed, but for a few weeks longer, it’s still part of me.
Rudy’s fingers do something a bit magical between my thighs. Heat floods low in my stomach as my legs tremble. I blink up to meet his gaze and catch the satisfied male smile tugging at his lips.
“So fucking hot,” he repeats, then dips his head down to kiss me. The scrape of teeth against my bottom lip makes me gasp, just as Rudy uses the moment to slide a long, talented finger inside me.
I nearly lose my mind.
After the first time, I’d half-convinced myself I imagined how incredible it felt to have his fingers inside me. It couldn’t possibly feel this good. But it did, and it does. Distantly, I wonder if this is a mistake—but how could it be, when nothing has ever felt so right?
His palm is angled expertly so it hits that bundle of nerves every time he pumps his fingers inside me. With trembling hands, I manage to unbutton most of Rudy’s shirt and push it off his shoulders. I want to feel his skin against mine, but when I nearly have the damn thing off, Rudy slides his hand from my pants and catches my wrists with his. His eyes are dark, hooded. His lips are glistening from our kisses. There’s a bulge in his pants that makes my heart skip a beat.
Even yesterday, the thought of standing in my kitchen, topless and with my jeans undone, with Rudy’s eyes tracing every line of my body would have terrified me. Hell—even a couple of hours ago I would’ve run away screaming.
But right now, the only thing that terrifies me is that this moment might end. That I might have to live my life without Rudy’s eyes on me making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Are you okay?”
I blink. “What?”
“You have a habit of acting like a scared rabbit when I touch you. Just checking in.” His breaths are harsh and when I slide my hands over his chest, his muscles are rock hard—as if he’s holding himself back with every ounce of strength.
“I’m fine,” I answer with an arched brow. “Why so worried?”
His lips quirk. “When dealing with a scared rabbit, one needs to be careful.”
“One needs to start removing one’s clothing, otherwise the rabbit might grow teeth and bite.”
“I don’t mind biting,” he says, but he finishes undoing the button I’d gotten to. That’s as far as he gets, though, because Rudy buries his face in my neck as his hands glide over my skin to cup my breasts. I gasp at the gentle scrape of his teeth on my pulse point, mind reeling at the intensity of his touch.
And when his hands cup my breasts, thumbs teasing my pebbled nipples, I melt. Rudy leans down and takes one breast in his mouth, his other hand diving back down underneath my panties, and all I can do is lean against the counter and hang on for dear life.
I don’t remember the last time I was this turned on. I don’t know if I ever have been. My hands go wandering again, this time curling around Rudy’s neck and holding him to my breast. He growls in response, scraping his teeth over my stiffened peak.
It feels good. Better than good. It feels like me. Not some alien body that has betrayed me, not some husk that will wither and die before I’m ready. I’m still me. Turning forty didn’t turn me into a pumpkin, nor will cancer. Nor will childbirth.
I’m still me, and I always will be.
His fingers move faster inside me, reminding me that I want something more. Then his thumb circles my clit in just the right spot and—
I cry out, every muscle stiffening as the tension leaves my body in a rush. Rudy straightens up suddenly, then picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. I yelp and laugh, delirious from my orgasm, as he marches toward the open bedroom door. Without warning, I’m flying through the air and landing on my bed. My head immediately falls between some of my throw pillows, and they’re ripped away.
“So many damn pillows,” Rudy growls. “Why? Why so many?” There’s a sharp tug, and my jeans are pulled from my legs.
“I’m nesting,” I say on a giggle, and am surprised to realize it’s true.
“Too many,” Rudy growls.
