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Now, I roll her over. I can’t fucking help it. I pin her arms over her head and I press my cheek to her cheek, my lips at her ear. “I am so damn in love with you, woman.”
“Prove it,” she challenges her breath warm on my lips.
There’s something hidden in that challenge, something dark and emotional that has me withdrawing just enough to study her face. “How?”
“Trust me. Really trust me.”
My lips lower to her lips, my breath a warm hiss on her lips as I say, “I wouldn’t be here now, if that wasn’t where I am and where we are, Candace. Done, but you have to give what you get.”
“Done,” she whispers.
We’re still there, naked, bodies connected intimately lingering in those next few seconds that feel like minutes before we’re drinking each other in with our hands and mouths. Until she bucks beneath me and I thrust into her, and somehow our bodies are a sultry sway and a dirty grind, all at once. I don’t know when I release her hands, or how her arms wrap my neck but when she cries out my name and whimpers, I’m lost in her— in her soft sounds, in her trembling body, in her taste and smell. I shudder, hard and far too fast, with my release.
A long time later, I pull a blanket over our naked bodies and Candace snuggles close to me. We don’t talk. We just lay there, holding each other. Almost as if we both know there’s a battle we still have to fight, one about the other man in her life, the one she’s engaged to, who isn’t me.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Candace
I wake to the light of a new day peeking through a crack in the hotel blinds, cool air conditioning chilling the room, and Rick’s big, warm body cradling mine from behind. My lashes lower in a savoring moment as I snuggle in just a little closer to him. Still asleep, he instinctively reacts by folding me into him, nuzzling my neck. It’s surreal. This is surreal. Just weeks ago, I didn’t believe I’d ever see Rick again, let alone, wake to him, and yet, I am, and we are very much back together. And for that reason, I promised him that I’d trust him, and I’m going to give him that trust.
The shadows of sleep dance in my mind, decorated with rose petals and memories. I’m suddenly, or perhaps not so suddenly, faded into sleep and that past, reliving one of the best nights of my life.
After a night of dancing and naughtiness in the loft above our favorite country bar, which still has me blushing, Rick pulls his truck into the garage and kills the engine. “Don’t move, baby,” he orders. “I have a surprise for you.”
I laugh. “Sneaking into that loft is all I can handle tonight.”
“We both know that’s not true.” He winks and kisses me. “Stay here or I’ll be forced to spank you right here in the truck because the surprise is inside.”
“You’re bad.”
He wiggles an eyebrow. “You know it, baby, more than anyone.”
He slides out of the truck and shuts me inside. I laugh and peek over the dash, enjoying the view of his nice tight ass that looks just as good in scrubs as it does in tonight’s faded jeans. He enters the house, and curiosity is killing me for obvious reasons. With Rick Savage, there is no telling what comes next, and I love it. I love the way he makes me live life, the way he breathes excitement into every second of every day, yet somehow calms me at the same time.
Rick enters the house, our house now for nearly four of the six months we’ve known each other, and I count the seconds that turn into a few minutes, until his return. Finally, he exits the house, holding something in his hand that I can’t quite make out.
Eager to find out what he’s up to I watch him round the truck and open the passenger door to retrieve me. “Madam,” he says, offering me his big, strong, surgically-gifted hand. The very hands that saved the life of a little boy and his parents just last night, but there is so much more to him than just the surgeon. He’s complicated. He’s damaged. I’ve seen the ways his father contributes to just how damaged. And yet when he’s with me, especially here at home, he relaxes into the moment. I watch it happen, often.
“Sir,” I say formally, playing along with his game, as I press my palm to his, and he guides me across the seat. A second later, he catches my waist and lifts me out of the truck with such ease you’d think I was a feather. I do like his muscles. I sway slightly with the influence of my one Tequila Sunrise which proves I’m truly a lightweight, but Rick had only one beer. I think he’s always afraid he’ll be called out on an emergency even when he’s not on call. Or maybe he’s just afraid of becoming his father.
