Chapter 20
Everett’s pulse hammered hard enough that he wondered if Remi could see it jumping at the hollow of his throat. A vicious, victorious grin threatened. He was a Class A dick for feeling this way. He bit the inside of his cheek to trap it as the thought took root in his mind.
Bobby had been her husband, but he never had her. Not really.
Not like Everett had. Her husband had never known what it felt like to have Remington writhing on his cock, climaxing so hard that he thought she might break him.
The exquisite pleasure of hearing his name tumble from her lips as her orgasm crested and left her spent and languid, clutching him for dear life as she rode the waves of ecstasy.
That Remington Bobby never knew.
That Remington still belonged to Everett.
The certainty blazed through him hot and clean as cane-fire, burning every last splinter of caution and restraint inside him.
He forced his breathing to slow and stepped closer until his bare feet were lined up in front of hers on the polished wood of the deck. Being close like this next to her, clawed up memories of afternoons long gone of the two of them, tangled in each other’s arms after endless rounds of making love.
His cock turned to stone, pressing against his pants.
Remington didn’t speak.
And she didn’t move away.
That was all the answer Everett needed.
His free hand found the hem of her t-shirt and tugged it free of her jeans.
She wavered as a tremor started in her shoulders and rolled straight down her.
“Tell me to stop, and I stop,” he said, voice gravel-rough, shocking even to him.
Her mouth opened, the war of indecision playing across her gorgeous face.
He knew she was scared to be vulnerable again.
To open herself up and try. He only hoped that she trusted in the love they’d shared.
The love she had to know at some level deep in her soul that he still felt for her.
If she trusted him like she did back then, he would unlock her from the numbness she’d been living with for far too long.
But only if she could bring herself to trust him.
He waited until the space between them felt like a fuse, burning down fast.
Her lashes lowered as she pressed her lips together. Then something inside her gave in. A surrender so quiet he almost missed it. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter.
She was giving him permission to make his next move.
The damn smile he’d tried like hell to hide emerged.
After all the pain, grief, distance, and time, Remington was his. Her heart and soul still belonged to him.
He didn’t know how long he’d be able to resist claiming what was his. Even though he sure as hell shouldn’t.
But for tonight, none of that mattered.
He would make her believe him in the only language her body might still trust.
He lifted the t-shirt slowly and pulled it over her head until she stood in front of him with nothing but a sports bra, compressing the breasts he’d had the pleasure of feasting on so many nights in the past. His gaze trailed from her breast down to the first signs of the jagged topography of her body that she loathed.
The part of her she viewed as flawed took his breath away and not for the reasons she’d suspect.
He was in awe of her. She couldn’t see what he saw.
A body that had endured the unthinkable and still held heat, beauty, and life.
A part of her to be revered and not loathed.
He had to help her see the truth and not the warped perspective she’d been living with for far too long.
He brushed his fingertips across the ridged map of scar tissue that covered her stomach, hips, and part of her back.
The keloid ridges, surgical cross-hatches, hollowed gullies of scooped flesh above her hip, the jagged line from navel to pelvis, where their child had been carved away.
The skin was slick as melted wax and blazed with heat as he touched every single part.
A sheen of sweat gathered along her skin as she flushed under the heat of his gaze.
He knelt, knees on warm hardwood, then leaned his face against her mottled flesh. Skin met skin. Sweet coconut clung to her skin, layered over the warmer scent that had always been only hers.
Remington flinched from the contact, but he wasn’t deterred. He needed her to feel that the part of her she hated the most could be loved deeply by the man whose heart she’d owned since they were seventeen years old.
Everett traced one long scar southward. She inhaled, her breasts lifting against the snug cotton, nipples tightening beneath the fabric.
Another scar arrowed to the soft hollow beneath her ribs.
He followed it, knuckles brushing the swell of her left breast. Her nipple grazed his wrist, pebbling harder, and a low sound escaped her throat.
“Still so beautiful,” he murmured.
She inhaled sharply. “No … I’m not …”
He grabbed her hips, pinning her to him. “Yes … Remington … every single part of your body is sexy as hell.”
She shivered from his words. He felt the ripple cascade through her abdomen.
He kissed the topmost scar slowly with feather-light pressure.
Her muscles clenched involuntarily under the damaged fascia.
But she still didn’t push him away. He kept going, covering every damaged area with kisses, then softly traced the gullies with his tongue.
“Would I kiss you like this if I didn’t feel that way?” he challenged her. “Could you still do this to me if you weren’t?” He pressed the stony length of his erection against her leg. “I’ve never lied to you, Remington, and I’m not starting now.”
She stopped flinching and leaned into him for the first time.
That’s it, baby. Start seeing yourself the way I see you.
Emboldened, he reached for her jeans, freeing the button.
The rasp of the zipper sounded loud in the hush of silence between them.
He hooked his thumbs under the waistband and dragged denim down the flare of her hips.
Her hand braced on his shoulder for balance as he lifted one leg and then the other free.
The vulnerability of it slammed into him hard.
Remington had found the courage to be unguarded, scars exposed, with him. His palms glided up the backs of her legs. He kissed the hinge of her hip first, open-mouthed, letting heat build. She swayed as he lifted one leg over his shoulder, tipping her back against the counter.
She drew a breath that broke halfway, a fractured sigh becoming his name. “Everett …”
Her hold on the counter’s edge tightened, knuckles pale, but she didn’t push him away.
A quake traveled up her thighs as he traced lower, tongue drawing a wet stripe along her inner thigh.
He traced the thin elastic of her cotton panties with a patience he didn’t feel.
Every inch earned a breathy hitch that tightened his chest.
“Oh …” the word slipped from her lips. She bit her bottom lip as a moan rumbled in her mouth.
Her panties darkened with the slick proof of her body responding to him like he knew she would. Sliding a finger beneath her panties, he swiped at the moisture pooling there.
“You’re so wet,” he said, glancing up at her.
She looked genuinely shocked, eyes wide and those sweet lips parted in a small circle. “I know …”
“You really haven’t?—”
She shook her head as her eyes welled with tears. “Not since the last time you and I were together. Before you went undercover.”
Everett closed his eyes, the truth hitting him like a fist. Years. She had gone years without this. Without pleasure. Without anyone making her feel wanted the way she deserved.
“Well, that’s too damn long. How about we change that? Right … now …”
“Okay …”
He eased her leg to the floor, then rolled the thin underwear down, freeing her from the constraint quicker than he’d done her jeans.
Before she could move an inch, he had her leg back over his shoulder.
He settled between her thighs, intoxicated by the scent of sweat and wanton desire wafting from her.
He took his time, teasing her with soft kisses, brushing his lips over her folds.
When he parted her with his tongue, dragging slowly from entrance to clit, her hips bucked hard.
A raw sound ripped out of her. She was slick, burning hot against his mouth.
Sweet musk flooded his senses. He groaned inwardly at how perfectly she fit the hollow of his mouth.
He kept the first contact gentle. Patience mattered more than speed.
He used the flat of his tongue first, slow strokes that gathered her wetness until her hips rolled, chasing him.
He circled the firm bundle of nerves. She yelped in response, her leg pressing against his back as she grinded against him.
Then he gave her what she asked for: the tip of his tongue circling the swollen knot at her crest, steady, merciless. Every tiny stroke drew a sharper inhale, a smaller cry that knotted around his heart and pulled.
Her body told him everything. The arch of her spine against the counter, the frantic roll of her hips chasing pressure, the way her fingers pressed against the back of his head, not guiding, trusting as she anchored herself to the pleasure she’d been missing for years.
She leaned back, sliding partially onto the counter as he lifted her other leg onto his shoulder.
He gripped her knees and licked deeper, quick strokes that made her legs shake in his grasp.
“Please, yes, oh yes, please.” The words tumbled from her lips.
His entire world narrowed to this—her taste, her sound, the heat of her against his tongue, the pressure of her sex against his face. It was absolute pure ecstasy. Better than any fantasy he’d ever played out in his mind over the years they’d been apart.
Damn, he loved this woman.
“I can feel it,” she breathed. “Everett, I can feel it.”
He slid a hand up her inner thigh, pressed two fingers inside her clenching heat as he sealed his mouth over her clit again. She clamped around him instantly, inner muscles fluttering. He curved the fingers in a slow beckoning motion, matching the rhythm with tongue flicks.
She tilted her body, giving him a better angle, thighs locking against his head. He doubled the pressure, sucking gently, stroking that spot inside her that made her moans grow louder and louder.
“Don’t stop … don’t you dare … “ The words fractured, sliding into wordless whimpers.
He didn’t let up. Instead, he held steady, tongue rolling side-to-side as she moved faster and faster against his face.
He held his breath, feeling the quiver that started in her thighs echo straight through him. The salt-sweet taste of her coated his tongue, and he chased it greedily, needing her to crest more than he needed air.
“Everett … oh my … Everett …”
Heat streaked up his spine every time she said his name, tattooing it over and over on the heart she already owned. His cock throbbed painfully behind his zipper, but this moment was only for Remington.
She was so close, teetering on the edge.
“Look at me,” he murmured, voice rough. He needed to see her face when the coil snapped, needed confirmation he hadn’t imagined the trust it took to let him see her this vulnerable. Her eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide. In the amber light, she looked feral, beautiful, alive.
He closed his lips over her, sucked harder and harder until her hips bucked.
Once, twice, a third time. Sweat prickled along his spine.
The wooden planks of the deck pressed hard into his knees, but pain was irrelevant compared to the throb in his cock answering every sound she failed to swallow.
He wanted inside her, wanted to bury every unanswered yearning in a single thrust, but this moment wasn’t about filling his ache.
It was about proving she was still the woman she feared she’d lost.
One more circle around her sensitive bud, and she shattered, a sharp cry slicing the air as she rocked against his lips, hips bucking, hands dragging him closer instead of pushing him away.
Pulse after pulse against his tongue, slick and shaking. The kind of surrender he’d longed for on too many nights to count. He slowed his rhythm, drawing out her pleasure until she quivered too much to bear his touch, then pressed a last kiss to her inner thigh as if sealing the moment.
Her breaths came hard and fast as he lowered her legs, letting her weight settle against the floor.
She sagged, palms skimming his shoulders for balance.
When he rose, her eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed, and her mouth looked swollen like she’d been biting her lip in a futile attempt to stay quiet.
He couldn’t read what lived behind the dazzle in her gaze, but for once, the weight in his chest was gone.
A complicated flicker tightened her brows. Gratitude, fear, maybe both, then she curled forward, pressing her forehead to his. Her breath synced with his as they stood in silence.
She drew away first, reaching for her panties and stepping into them, then the jeans. Her movements were careful, as if one wrong move might shatter her. Everett grabbed the waistband, fastening the button for her because his hands needed something useful to do.
She watched him, lips parted. “Thank you?—”
“Don’t.” The taste of her lingering on the single word was bittersweet.
He didn’t want her gratitude.
He wanted what they both knew he didn’t deserve. He took a step away from her. Then another. “Go get some rest. I’ll clean up out here.”
“Everett …” She took a step toward him.
“I will always do what you need, Remington. Always.” He swallowed hard, hating the words before he said them. “But nothing has changed between us. Okay? Nothing has changed.”