“I’m not sure where I put my phone,” she replies softly, and I realize she’s on the verge of tears. “I had a really shitty day.”
I drag my fingertips down her cheek, then brush her hair back over her shoulder. Fuck, it feels so damn good to have her here in my arms. To know that she’s okay.
“What happened?”
“I lost my iPad, which means that I can’t schedule bookings, or even see which rooms are supposed to have which guests. It completely threw me off for the day. The dishwasher broke again, flooding my kitchen.”
“That thing needs to be replaced,” I murmur and kiss her forehead.
“The puppy pooped on my kitchen floor, before he jumped in the water, getting himself and Sam completely drenched,” she continues and burrows closer to me, burying her face in my chest and wrapping her arms around me for dear life. God, has anything ever felt like this in my life? If it did, I don’t remember it. “And then, to cap it all off, Sam broke another damn window.”
Her voice catches, and then she sniffs and begins to cry. “Beau and Van came and let me go to bed early while they finished up the nighttime chores for the inn.”
She’s so fucking exhausted. That’s what the tears are for, because any of those events by themselves wouldn’t have phased her. But all of it in one day is a lot to handle, and I wasn’t here to help her.
Fuck.
I just hold her, caressing her, rubbing her, crooning to her, and let her cry it all out. And when she’s finally done, when the sniffles slow down, I feel my lips twitch.
“The puppy was splashing in the water?”
She nods.
“And there was poop on the floor?”
She nods again and then grumbles, “Thankfully, he didn’t poop in the water.”
I chuckle, and then bite my lip, because it’s not funny. It made her cry.
“And then Sam went outside and broke a window?”
“I told him to take the demon puppy outside so I could clean up the huge mess in the kitchen, and then crash. Broke the window in your room.”
“This is my room,” I reply without thinking. And then I can’t help it. The laughter just comes.
“It’s not funny,” she says and leans back to scowl at me.
“Sorry.” I clear my throat and try to sober my face, but it’s no use. A slow, shy, sleepy smile spreads over her beautiful face.
“Okay, it’s kind of funny.”
And then here, in the cool darkness of this bedroom, we laugh in each other’s arms, until finally we just lie here, smiling, staring into each other’s eyes.
“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.”
She tries to look shyly down, but I catch her chin in my finger. “No, don’t look away from me. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. There are seven billion smiles in this world, and yours is my favorite.”
Her smile widens. “Thank you. That makes me feel…special.”
“You are special.” I kiss her forehead, then her nose. “You are beautiful.”
“You are charming.”
I smile against her skin. Always back to this. She has to get up in about an hour, and although I thought I was exhausted when I got here, I suddenly have some extra energy to expel.
Of course, I can’t stop fucking touching her. I’m drawn to her in ways I never saw coming.
I push her onto her back and kiss her neck slowly. Gently. I’m going to take this very slow.
“Want you,” she whispers in my ear.
“On the same page,” I reply and drag my lips up her jawline to her lips, then spend time thoroughly kissing her, biting that plump lower lip, nibbling at the corner. She shifts, pushing closer to me, and I happily pull her more tightly against me, slipping her tank top off, reveling in how warm and sweet she is. Skin to skin.
My fingers drift down her torso, lightly glide over her nipples, her stomach, then over to her ribs. I know she’s self-conscious of her post-baby belly, but I couldn’t care any less about a few stretch marks and some extra skin. She’s amazing just as she is.
Fuck me, I can’t stop touching her. Looking at her. I could stare at her all damn day.
She pushes her fingers into my hair and grips a handful, making me growl against her neck as I kiss my way down to her chest. Her tits are fantastic. I pull one nub between my lips and tug, just a little, making her arch her back and sigh.
The sounds that come out of her sexy mouth make my already hard cock twitch. Her legs are restless, moving back and forth, clearly trying to ease the ache between them.
I’ll be happy to do that for her.
But not quite yet. We’re taking this slow.
“Rhys,” she whispers.
“Your skin is so soft.” One hand drifts down her belly and under the elastic of her panties, my fingertips lightly grazing over her smooth pubis, making those hips shift. “I love the way you sound. Move. Smell.”
“Smell?” She chuckles softly and shifts her hips so I can guide her panties down her legs. “How do I smell?”
“Like you want me inside you.” Her eyes flare. “Like you want me to move in and out of you, and make you come like crazy.”
“The smell is right.” Her eyes are wide, watching me, wondering what I might do next. But I don’t want to make this wild and crazy. I want to keep it slow and lazy. Sleepy.
Loving.
Because for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m making love to a woman. I’m not fucking her. I’m not having sex.
This is way more intimate than that.