Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JANIE
My heart seems like it’s beating on the tip of my tongue. His fingers in mine are so big, so rough, but so damn gentle. All I want to do is cling to them all night and never let go. But we’re almost to my porch, and then it’ll be time to say goodnight. That breaks my heart.
I need for tonight not to end.
He stops at the bottom of my front steps. I turn, clearing my throat. His broad body towers over mine, and I can make out the glint of his eyes in the moonlight.
“I guess this is you,” he says.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I guess so.”
Silence. A night bird screams, and the cattle low in response.
“We could walk a little more,” he says.
My eyes flick past him, up to the heavy silver disk of the moon behind his head.
In a barrage, I remember how long it took for me and Shane to get together, how he was putting out signals and I wasn’t so sure, even though I wanted him.
How it took him ages to convince me to sleep with him, and the next morning, I was so confused and disappointed, because while it felt good, something was off.
And then, I convinced myself this was just how sex was—mechanical and disconnected.
I fought so hard to make that relationship work. Now that it’s done, I feel so silly for pursuing it in the first place.
But this, with him, is different.
I want to do it differently.
Boldly, I grip his forearms and move in. The upstairs lights are off, so I know Mom and Dad are asleep. I lean up on my toes and kiss him, keeping it slow so he can respond. He does, kissing me deeply. I can taste how hungry he is when his lips part and his tongue grazes mine.
One hand slides around to the small of my back.
He pulls me against his body, and his other palm cups the back of my head.
From my crown to my toes, I’m swooning, colors going off like fireworks in my mind, my body tingling with electricity.
With him, I don’t pull back. No, I want more, and my hands get ahead of me, sliding up his chest. My fingers slip beneath his collar, and I feel firm, warm muscle covered in hair.
God, he’d feel so good to curl up with on a cold night, all big, rough, and solid.
He pulls back gently.
“I don’t want to walk more,” I whisper.
His brows rise.
“I want to…go home with you.” My words falter, but my desire doesn’t. I want this.
The hard lines on his face stay the same, but his dark eyes soften in the dim light. He lifts his head, looking out over the field behind the house. My pulse hammers. Did I offend him somehow?
“If I say I want that too, is that okay?” he says finally.
I clear my throat. God, the way he’s so broken wraps itself around my heart and yanks on it.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “As long as it’s okay with you too.”
He leans in, and my fists clench at my sides.
There’s something so gentle, it feels like someone is handling my heart the way I want it to be touched, opening my chest with a key, like a birdcage, and taking my heart out with the gentlest of hands.
My eyes flutter shut. His mouth touches mine, and he tastes a little bit sad, but like he’s on the cusp of leaving it behind.
We both pull back.
He holds out his hand, and I take it. The walk to his house is a blur of quick glances and pounding hearts. Then, we’re standing under the porch light while he unlocks the door, and I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but I know exactly how the night will end.
He leads me into the hall, leaning past me to shut the door.
His body brushes mine, warm, and heat stirs in my lower belly.
We both step out of our boots, and he puts them in the alcove by the door.
Then, he turns, and all the breath whooshes from my lungs as he pushes me carefully against the wall.
His weight sinks into me—not too much pressure, but just enough to let me feel the hardness in his pants.
God, that feels good.
His fingers brush my neck and gather my hair to hold it aside.
My eyes roll back as his mouth touches the side of my neck.
A brush of fire. Soft kisses over my bare skin.
He pulls down the strap of my dress and kisses along my shoulder, lifting my elbow to brush his mouth on the inside of my upper arm.
I think my kink is gentleness, because I’m burning up.
“Tell me what you like,” he pants, fingers cradling my head.
“This,” I manage. “I like this.”
He rumbles, almost like a low growl. I love that.
It’s lust-filled but not aggressive. More like an awakening.
My fingers dig into his belt and hold him close enough so I can feel his hardness push into my lower belly.
As sweet and gentle as he’s being, my mind is careening this way and that, and it can’t keep from going to dirty places.
Clink—I undo his belt, pulling his zipper down. He’s biting at my shoulder where it hits my neck. My other hand grazes his short hair. I turn my head, and our mouths meet just as I slip my hand into his pants.
Oh God.
He moans and his hips buck. Our lips part in tandem, the kiss going from passionate to downright filthy as his tongue pushes past my lips.
Bittern seems so discreet, so gentle, and I wasn’t expecting what I’ve got my hand wrapped around right now.
He’s rock hard and thick. The rebellious, bitchy part of my brain makes a note that he’s bigger than Shane.
Then, I correct myself. Shane had real problems, but his perfectly normal dick size wasn’t one of them.
“Fuck—stop,” he pants.
I go still, heart pounding, looking up into his face. He’s gritting his jaw, looking hot and tortured.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
His cheek twitches. “It’s been a while.”
“Okay. How long?”
He takes a breath, stepping back so I have to let go. He pushes his dick back under his pants.
“I don’t know…like ten years.”
My jaw drops. I don’t mean for it to happen, but I can’t control it. Bittern is a handsome guy. Surely, it’s been less than a decade since he got laid.
“Oh,” I say. “That’s fine. We can go slow.”
He takes a breath, like he’s going to speak, then doesn’t.
“Um…how old are you?” I ask.
“Thirty-one,” he says. “I’ve been kinda fucking busy for a while. This is my first year in a while that I’ve felt ready to get back into dating.”
“I know,” I say hurriedly. “I know about the accident. It’s fine.”
He cocks his head, lids lowered over dark eyes. “Is it though?”
It takes me a second to read him, and then it clicks, and my stomach sinks.
He’s afraid. He thinks I won’t want him if I know too much about his situation and his family.
I move closer and touch his chest. His eyes flick up then down.
Gently, I press him into the hallway wall and take his hand, guiding it between my legs.
His lips part…and his pupils blow when I slip his fingers beneath my panties.
“I don’t care what you do,” I breathe. “You can come in five seconds. Just make sure I get there too.”
Bam—his eyes flick up and lock on mine, like he’s ready for the challenge.
He’s hungry, I see it in a sizzling flash across his face.
Then, he’s on his knees, gathering up my skirt, his fist tangling around my panties and pulling them down my thighs.
We laugh, breathlessly, as he pulls them free.
Then, he’s got me shoved up against the opposite wall, his blond head dipping under my skirt.
My spine lifts off the wall. If he wasn’t twice my size and musclebound, his hands holding me upright, I’d be a puddle on the floor.
I pant, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall, counting down the moments as his tongue sends me spinning into another dimension.
It takes me seventeen seconds to decide this man is going to be my husband.
We can figure everything else out later—where we’re gonna live, who’s working what job.
There is no way in hell I’m letting someone else get eaten out by him for the rest of their lives.
Fuck no, I’m keeping this man on tap forever.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s handsome and kind either.
His hand slides down, gripping my ass. I arch one hip to give him space.
“Right there,” I gasp. “Don’t stop—fuck, right there.”
His tongue curls around the side of my clit. My body crumbles, shaking into his hands as pleasure moves in a burning wave from my chest to my hips. My fingers grip his hair, pushing him down as it ebbs and flows. Spots pop in my vision.
This is what it was always supposed to feel like.
Easy, effortless.
I come to a trembling finish, but he doesn’t lift his head.
No, he keeps going. My knees give out completely, and he lifts up to lay me on the hallway floor.
My thighs fall open, and he drops his head down to push his tongue inside.
God, he wants it just as much as I do. Maybe that’s what makes it so effortless, like riding the tide that leads right to him, to my hands digging into his hair while my mind plays a hundred different scenarios of staying with him forever.
We go on like this for what feels like hours, his head between my legs and my hands in his hair while I come harder than I’ve ever come in my life.
Holding on, letting go, spinning out of control.
All at once. In so many different ways.
It gets to the point that I have to pry him off me. He lifts his head, dazed. I push myself up on my elbows.
“Where have you been?” I whisper.
The corner of his mouth jerks in a slow smile. “Guess I’ve just been waiting on pussy this good.”
I bite my lip, giggling for the first time in…a long time. Did Shane ever make me giggle? Probably not. He wasn’t all that funny. I have a feeling that deep down, under Bittern’s quiet, he’s got a lot he’s hiding.
“You want to take this to the bedroom?” I whisper.
“What?” he drawls. “You don’t like the bare ass floor?”
“Not on my bare ass, no.”
He laughs, dipping his head to nip my thigh. “Let’s go.”
He lifts me up. My eyes drop, and for a second, I wonder if he came in his pants, because it almost looks like he might.
Or maybe that’s just a shadow by his zipper—he’s still hard, so I don’t think he did, but the idea is flattering.
He distracts me by lifting my hand, spinning me in a half circle, and pushing me toward the bedroom at the end of the hall.
I go, willingly. He shuts the door.
“I’m gonna shower up,” he says. “Is that okay?”
I nod, a little confused. “You okay?”
“All good. Just need a second.”
He reaches down, grips his t-shirt, and pulls it free of his belt, stripping it up over his head.
My breath catches, because, Lord, he’s pretty underneath.
I sink back on his bed, watching as he disappears into the bathroom.
It occurs to me that he did, in fact, come in his pants, and he wants a second to clean up.
Tickled, I touch the backs of my hands to my neck to feel my blush. I’m burning up.
I’ve never had anyone want me like that.