Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Delaney
We don’t make it past the front door.
Bennett kicks it shut behind us, his mouth already on mine, hands roaming every inch, as though he can’t decide which part of me he wants to touch first. No one has ever made me feel as wanted as he does.
He presses me against the wall, one hand cupping the back of my neck, the other sliding up under my shirt. I’m already breathless, already burning for him.
“Upstairs?” I gasp between kisses.
He shakes his head, eyes dark and hungry. “No time.”
I don’t argue, instead grabbing the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head. The fabric tears somewhere near the bottom, not that he seems to care.
“I love it when you strip me,” he mutters against my throat while kissing lower.
“Maybe you should do the same.” My fingers work his belt.
“Is that a challenge?” He flicks open the button of my jeans with one hand.
We stumble through the hallway, every step clumsy and frantic, leaving a trail of clothes.
Then he spins me toward the kitchen, walking me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the edge of the table.
He lifts me in one fluid motion, and the thud of wood under my thighs sends a shiver straight through me.
“I’ve thought about you, doing this,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down my neck, over the collar of my shirt. “Every night for seven years.”
“There were so many nights when you were the one I thought of when I touched myself.” I gasp, dipping my hand into the waistband of his pants, tugging him closer. “Your mouth, your hands.”
“I’m gonna need to see that.” His mouth crashes into mine, hot and heavy, and I open for him without a fight.
His hands slip under my shirt, rough palms skating up my ribs, inching slowly as if he’s relearning my body. When his thumbs brush the bottom edges of my bra, I gasp, arching into him, needing more.
“Let me help,” I whisper, fumbling with the hem of my shirt.
“That’s my job,” he says.
“Then do it.”
He draws back, and I miss his lips immediately. As if he’s testing my willpower, a mischievous smile crosses his face and he grabs the bottom of my shirt, sliding it up my body and over my head.
His eyes darken, taking me in. “Jesus, Laney.”
I would normally be self-conscious from the light stretch marks on my tummy from Leia, but with the way he’s looking at me, there’s no room for it. I don’t need to cover myself because he loves me regardless of my post-baby body.
My hands run down his golden skin and taut muscles that I remember too well. He was all man seven years ago, but this feels different for some reason I can’t explain.
His mouth returns to mine, more frantic, and his hand cups the back of my neck, holding me to him. I’m not complaining. I just want to feel him against me.
I slide my hand inside his jeans, and the low groan that escapes him sends heat pooling low in my belly. “Laney.”
I bite his jaw. “Is there a problem?” I laugh.
“Do you want to play games?”
I shrug, giving him a flirtatious grin.
His hands hook into my pants, dragging them and my underwear down my legs before tossing them over his shoulder. Again, his gaze flows down my body, slow like honey, and the heat in his eyes undoes any control I have.
“Are you just going to look?”
He drops to his knees. “Hell no.” His hands grip my thighs, spreading me open.
My whole body jerks with the first swipe of his tongue. He glances up at me—gauging my reaction or purposely teasing me, I can’t be sure.
“I’ll repay you when I’m on my knees.”
He chuckles and buries his head between my legs. Bennett groans against my core, tongue teasing, tasting, ruining me for anyone else.
“B,” I whisper, my fingers weaving through his hair, clinging tightly, pushing him in, on the cusp of coming.
He slides back and looks at me, chin glistening. “Say it again.”
“B, more. Please, I’m so close.”
As if he wants to take me to the edge, he teases my entrance with his fingers, not ever dipping in more than an inch as he sucks my clit.
“Oh shit,” I say.
I come apart embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t stop. Not even when I gasp and tremble and try to close my thighs. He holds me there, drawing it out, savoring every last second.
“You taste so damn good.” He rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes feral.
“That was so—”
He doesn’t let me finish. He grips my hips, dragging me to the edge of the table. “I’m gonna be honest, it’s been a long time for me…” He looks shy, cheeks pink.
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t forget how. You definitely didn’t forget how to go down on me.” I wrap my legs around his waist, yanking him to me. “Condom?”
“I’ve been tested, and it might sound crazy and not at all like me, but I could make another baby with you and not give one shit right now.”
“Well.” I put my hand on his chest. “We have a lot on our plates, so let’s forgo that discussion for now. But I was tested after everything with Sean, and I have an IUD, so…”
“So I’m going to embarrass myself right now, I’m sure.” He fists the base of his cock and lines it up with my opening.
The anticipation grows until he sinks into me in one deep, glorious thrust. I cry out, my hands clutching at his shoulder blades.
Perfect.
He’s thick and hard, filling me so deeply my entire core clenches around him.
“Jesus,” he breathes against my neck. “You’re so damn wet. So tight.”
My nails dig into his skin. “It’s been a long time.”
He groans, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, slower this time, as though he’s savoring the moment.
But I’m desperate for him. “Don’t be gentle. Not tonight.”
He stills for a beat, leaning back, staring into my eyes.
Then he thrusts into me harder, slamming my hips against the edge of the table with each stroke. The obscene sound of skin-on-skin echoes through the kitchen, and I’m thankful there’re no neighbors for miles, so I can be as loud as I want.
I spread my legs wider, angling my hips to take him even deeper, causing the next thrust to knock the air from my lungs. “Oh my god, B—”
His fingers dig into my hips, dragging me to meet him again and again, using my body exactly how he needs. Every time he thrusts into me, it’s harder, hotter, and I grow wetter. I’m soaked, and feeling the slick slide of him in and out of me takes me to the edge.
“You feel like fucking heaven,” he growls, breathless. “We were always so good at this.”
I can’t find the words I want to convey how I’m feeling because I’m too busy falling apart with every one of his punishing and perfect thrusts.
The table creaks violently, the edge biting into the backs of my thighs, but let the bruises come, I don’t care.
His pace picks up, growing frantic and wild with need.
I meet him thrust for thrust, chasing the orgasm barreling down on me.
It builds like a tidal wave, cresting with every deep, wet stroke until I can’t hold back.
I shatter with a cry, pulsing around him, body locking tight as everything in me releases in a rush. It’s years of longing and heartbreak and need, all crashing through me until only peace is left behind.
He keeps riding it out, chasing his own release. His rhythm falters slightly, and I feel him throb deep inside me as he groans my name into my neck and spills into me with a final thrust so deep, I clench.
Then my mind stills. For the first time in so long, it’s not filled with a million thoughts, a million worries, a million what-ifs.
We’re both panting, slick with sweat, clinging to each other.
His forehead drops to mine. “Holy hell.”
I nod, trying to catch my breath. “Yeah.”
He cups my cheek, thumb gently brushing over my flushed skin. “You okay?”
I manage a breathless laugh. “I’m better than okay. That was…”
“Everything?” he whispers.
“More.”
He kisses me slowly and tenderly, like a promise that this is it for us. And I’ll take it.
I kiss him back, tasting his sweat and salt. It’s a perfect moment.
The front door opens, and a bag drops on the floor.
“Jesus, the kitchen table? It’s my favorite spot in the house, and now I’m gonna have to think about the two of you fucking every time I eat?” Levi grunts as the door shuts behind him.
We both laugh, and for the first time in years, I let myself believe that maybe it’s not too late for our happily ever after.