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Sweat beads up over his body, and I suck on his forearm, licking the salt from his body. I want to ask him how he learned this position because it wasn’t with me. I want to give the woman a medal after I kill her for sleeping with my man.
He never takes his eyes off me. He leans back on his knees as he pumps inside me over and over with mind-bending long strokes. Then when I’m on the cusp again, he falls back down, giving my breasts more praise. “I love the way you’ve filled out. Fucking perfection.”
I let loose again, clenching my core, and allowing my legs to fall. His lopsided, cocky grin steals my soul. I fist the covers as my orgasm threatens to split me in half.
“Nessa.” He repeats my name over and over again against the shell of my ear as he slows down, and I feel the twitch of his length inside me.
He lies on top of me, snaking one hand under my back as he rocks our bodies. It’s so sensual, and my body tingles. His muscles tense, and his eyes pinch tight. As his orgasm crests, he grunts so loud my heart shakes. Then his lips flutter against my ear.
Neither of us know what to say. Where to begin. A few minutes later, he pushes from the bed. Then, he takes off the condom, ties it up, and throws it in the trash.
“I’m going to clean up. Don’t move.”
As if. I could slide down the mattress and turn into a puddle on the floor, but there is no way these legs could hold me up. Nope. I’m staying put. I’m flying higher than the highest plane.
When he goes into the bathroom and turns on the light, I notice a silhouette of a woman tattooed on his shoulder blade. I can’t quite make it out, and reality hits that someone else is important to him.
ChapterTwenty
BEAU
When I come out of the bathroom, I take the warm, wet washcloth and soothe her inner thighs and wipe away her sticky residue. Her cheek hits the pillow, and I know something is bothering her.
“I thought…I thought you wanted it too. Did I do something you didn’t like?” I ask.
She looks toward the window, and damn she’s all I’ve ever needed. She shakes her head.
“Then what?”
She won’t look at me. “You have a tattoo of a woman on your back.”
I chuckle, which causes her to snap her head to me. I scoot farther back on the bed, twisting my back to give her a better view. “Touch her. Trace her.”
The pads of her fingers trace my skin, touching each curl falling over the shoulder of the silhouette.
“It’s me?”
I glance over my shoulder, affirming with a nod.
Fuck, I didn’t want to talk about this right after we made love. Part of me knows we need to talk about the past. I need her to know I forgive her for kissing my brother, but there’s something I’ve kept from her since we were twelve.
“When did you do this?” Her fingers tremble before she presses a kiss to the area. Her lips linger until I answer.
“Not long after I left.”
I pick her up, placing her on my lap while I yank the navy blue sheets away from the mattress. We roll underneath, and I pull the sheets over us.
“But if… then why didn’t you answer my messages?”
With my head propped on my elbow, I skim her arms with my fingers and tuck her freshly sexed hair behind her ear. She’s a fucking one-of-a-kind masterpiece.
“I wish I had answers that would make sense. When I found out I would be headed to Afghanistan, I needed something to fight for.”
“So you fought for the memory of me, instead of the actual me?” Her lips quiver and her eyes narrow. Hurt is written in the creases of her forehead and in the slight contraction of her eyes.
“I know what I did was wrong, but you didn’t give me a chance to explain. It wasn’t what everyone thought. By never speaking to me again, you made everyone think Beckett and I…. We didn’t. I swear.”
She nuzzles her head into her elbow. For the first time, I understand what I did to her was worse than what she did to me.
