Chapter 29
Willow
The door creaks, and I peer into the darkness.
“Leo?”
“Hey,” he breathes. The door clicks closed. “Heard you had quite the day.” The mattress sinks with his weight. He caresses my cheek. “Still stoned?”
“Oh, my god, it was not like that.”
“No?” He grins. “How was it?”
“Lina smoked a joint. She passed it to me like twice.”
“Like?”
“I did not get stoned.”
His fingers systematically unbutton his shirt. It’s dark in the room, making his eyes the color of midnight.
“Was Nick pissed?” he asks.
“At Lina?” He shrugs out of his shirt and rises, headed into the bathroom. “No. Maybe. Lina couldn’t stop laughing. Nick didn’t say much. They went off to the kitchen together, and I came back to our room.”
“You didn’t eat with them?”
“Nick gave me a mobile he said I could use to check in with my family. And Scarlet.”
He pauses, both hands resting on the bathroom counter. “How are they?”
The sink water flows, and he splashes water on his face.
“Good. My mother says they’re good.”
“Did you speak to your father?”
“He’s away on business.”
“Still?”
“Should I be concerned?”
He puts a toothbrush in his mouth. I push off the bed and come to stand in the doorway of the bathroom. He’s barefoot. He must’ve shed his socks when he removed his shoes. His skin along his back is smooth, although the bathroom light reflects on a thin white scar along his side, and a raised, jagged scar on his shoulder.
I come up behind him and press my lips to his shoulder and wrap my arms around his waist. He finishes brushing his teeth, and I ask, “How was your trip?”
He turns in my arms. “Hell.”
I push back, wondering what could’ve happened. Is there more bad news?
“You weren’t there.”
When I look into the depths of those warm brown eyes, all I see is sincerity, and I melt.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I ached for you.”
His fingers brush my hair away from my face.
“But you never called.” I missed him too. His not calling left a shitty feeling.
His shoulders rise and fall. “Had a job to do. But I’ve never been so… It’s like…” His eyes close and his lips press together in a firm line. “You’re always right there. I close my eyes, and I see you. I’m with you always, even when I’m away. Don’t ever doubt it.”
His lips fall to mine. The kiss is slow. Tender. Loving.
Might I hope this kiss promises a future?
He walks me backward until the backs of my thighs hit the mattress. He left the bathroom light on, and a golden glow crosses the mattress.
He moves slowly and with intention. Each touch lights within, inciting a burning need.
He lifts my nightgown and lets it fall to the floor. A buzz goes through my body, a low hum that has my lower belly clenching. He sets me back on the bed, over the comforter, and I feel his gaze, covetous and hot, as he undoes his belt and his clothes fall to the floor.
When he climbs over me, his lips and fingers explore, worshipping every inch of my skin, his tongue yielding teases and pleasure. A brief, suckling kiss on my exposed nipples makes my entire body twitch. His movements are slow, as if we have forever, as if dawn won’t break, and we have this night for eternity.
The hard heavy weight of his cock against my hip, and my thigh, assures me he needs me, he desires me, and as his tongue and fingers slay me, he has every intention of bringing us together. An incendiary need rachets up within me and I tremble, coming undone.
Those dark eyes watch, taking me in with an intensity that reaches my marrow.
“You’re so beautiful.” His soft words are full of adulation.
He rises over me and I reach for him. My fingers tangle in his short silky strands. His arm muscles flex and veins protrude from the strain of holding himself high. I tug him down, wanting his mouth on mine. My thighs spread, welcoming him, needing him. I’m a heartbeat away from pleading.
When he sinks into me, my hold on his back tightens. His movements are slow and reverent. The pressure on my core as he stretches me, fills me, and rocks against me, re-awakens my sensitized self, and all too soon, I once again come apart. He cups my cheek, holding me in place, dark eyes boring into me as he too falls. As he pulses deep within me, I strain to hold him as tightly as possible. His head falls to the crook of my neck and I press my lips repeatedly along the side of his face and over his crown. There’s no other word for it, no other description, than making love. We’ve had each other in so many ways, against the shower wall, on a floor, an exploration of sinful positions, but missionary has never felt more perfect or right.