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“We all carry regrets around with us, Tad, wishes that we had played the cards differently. Keeping it inside and letting it eat away at you isn’t healthy. Don’t hide from me. From the beginning, it’s always been you and me. Simpatico.”
The truth of that punched a hole in that wall.
“From the first moment, it’s been”—she placed her hand over his stomach—“in here.”
“A gut thing,” he rasped.
She watched him with those green eyes that cut through all his crap.
“A gut thing. A connection from the beginning. No matter what happens between us, we’ll always be in each other’s gut. I’ll find my safe, boring husband and you’ll keep screwing your way through Chicago. But at the end of the day, this connection between us will still be here. Gut connection. You and me.”
Another few bricks collapsed, exposing his heart for all to see. She could reach inside and grasp it. Hold it close or stomp it. It was hers to own and he didn’t care what she did with it.
“Gut connection,” he whispered.
“You and me,” she said, tilting moist green eyes up to his.
She shrank against the glass, still with her hand on his side. The movement caused her fingertips to slide down to his belt and brought him close enough to share her sweet breath.
Hooking a finger behind the buckle, she traced the metal slowly.
Kiss her,every part of him urged.
So he did.
Just a tickle at first because he wanted to give her a chance to move away. He needn’t have worried. Immediately, her hands clutched at his shirt collar and pulled him close. The inch of space separating them was too much. His blood surged. His balls flamed. The heaven of her mouth claimed him.
He was going with his gut and every other body part cheered in agreement. She unclasped his belt. He peeled off her shirt. Next went her skirt, landing in a puddle at her feet. They played catch up with the rest of his clothes, both of them desperate to get each other naked. He tore at her panties, just ripped them from her body. No finesse, no seduction. Just what it was.
Gut connection.
Soul connection.
She fell back against the cellar’s glass wall, the low bar light shimmering behind her and framing her with a honey-tinged corona. Those perfect, creamy breasts drew his gaze, which he followed down to the soft curve of her belly and the thatch of dark blond hair between her thighs. He would never tire of the beautiful lines of her body.
He nudged her feet apart and ran a finger through her gloriously slick heat. Ready for him. Always ready for him.
“You’re so wet.”
“All night,” she moaned. “From the minute you told that bitch off.”
Stroking through the swelling folds of her pussy, he punctuated with a brush of his finger over her nerve-strung clit. She sighed her pleasure and pushed back against his hand.
“You’re turned on when I protect you,” he murmured, not a little turned on by that idea himself.
“I’m turned on when you breathe.”
He curled his palm behind her head and crushed his mouth to hers, plundering her with possessive thrusts of his tongue that matched the finger-strokes through her saturated heat. Her moans were loud and throaty, and he swallowed them greedily. She was already close but he knew he could make it better for her.
“Turn around.”
“What?” It came out in a sexy quiver.
“I want you to watch the street while I make you come. I want you to know anyone could see you while you’re screaming my name.”
Without hesitation, she turned toward the transparent cellar wall, and that obedience turned him to granite.
“Feel how cool the glass is against your nipples,mia bella.”
