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“Yes. It’s been one year, Haley. One year without kissing those sweet lips and worshipping your beautiful body.” His nose grazes mine. “The longest year of my life. And I can’t wait another fucking second.”
All at once, his lips are on mine. It’s not a slow tease, leading up to something more intimate. It’s zero to one hundred in seconds. And before I realize it, my back is pushed against the wall, and my legs are around his waist. His rain-drenched body soaks my shirt, but I’m too drunk off of his kiss to care about how cold it makes me.
I’ve missed every part of him. His minty kiss, the stubble on his face, the way his body is always warm and makes me want to snuggle into him, the woodsy scent of him when he is this close. Everything. This past year, I’d lie in bed and fantasize, but couldn’t actuallyfeelhim. I felt so homesick because I had tostay far enough away from him to keep myself from leaping into his arms and making him break his rules. Finally, I’m home.
He pulls away. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he growls against my lips, his growing erection pushing against my body and making me ache between my legs, to the point of pain. “I need to be inside of you, Haley. If not, I might actually die.”
Even given how turned on I am, I giggle against his lips. “Die, huh?”
“Babe, I haven’t had sex in a year. My balls might fall off, and then I could bleed to death.”
“I don’t think it works that way.” I smile, peering through my lashes at him. “You haven’t been with anyone since me?”
He pulls back, frowning. “Fuck no. I haven’t wanted anyone else.” He kisses me again. “Have you, uh … been with—”
“No!” I say quickly. “I haven’t even looked at another man.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “So, you’ve just been reading your naughty books? And getting all horned up by yourself?”
My cheeks burn, and I gaze downward, not wanting to answer.
“You have, haven’t you?” he grunts. “Fuck, that’s hot.” Gripping my chin, he smirks. “Did you touch yourself?”
“Sometimes,” I barely whisper. “This is embarrassing!”
“What did you imagine when you slipped your fingers inside of yourself, angel?” His voice holds no humor in it now. It’s husky, gritty, and filled with desperation.
“You. And me.” I swallow. “You doing the things to me that I was reading about. Or … vice versa.”
“Did you get yourself off?” his voice croaks. “Did you come on your fingers, imagining it was my cock?”
“Yes,” I breathe out.
“Fuck,” he groans. His eyes glaze over as he walks us toward my bedroom.
I’m afraid that if I blink or if I breathe wrong … I’ll wake up and realize I’m dreaming. So, I’m just going to enjoy this. Enjoy it and pray it’s real.
Cade
I lean down, setting Haley on the bed before standing over her. I spot the book on her nightstand, and I grab it. I’ve read the backs of a few of them, but I’ve never actually opened one of her books to see what’s inside.
I open it, flipping through it until I find a page where the dude is going down on his girl, telling her how good she tastes.
Reaching up, she grabs the book and tosses it to the side. “I don’t want what’s in the book. I want you and me. I’ve waited a damn year. I want Cade Huff. That’s it,” she says, suddenly sounding brave.
That is, until I reach for the hem of her shirt.
“Can’t I leave it on?” she whines, stopping my fingers from pulling the fabric up. “Please?”
“Angel, I’ve waited three hundred sixty-five days to fucking worship this perfect body. You think I’m going to let you keep my baggy shirt on when I fuck you for the first time in over a year? It’s basically like I’m a virgin again. I need to see you.”
Her cheeks turn the deepest red I’ve ever seen them, and that’s saying a lot because everything makes the girl blush.
“Cade … my body looks different. I have stretch marks and a scar from my C-section.” She looks away from me. “What if you don’t like what you see? What if it … turns you off?”
Hovering over her, I lean down and kiss her before placing my hand on her stomach. “Haley, you grew a baby—my baby—in this body. I love every fucking inch of you. I don’t give a fuck if you’re covered in stretch marks. This is mine. Don’t cover it up—ever.”
Reaching down, I grip the center of the shirt. Without warning, I rip it right down the middle, leaving her breasts and stomach completely exposed. Her hands fly to cover herself up, but I catch her wrists, pinning them at her sides against the bed.
