Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
ELIZABETH
What’s Your Number?
My back hits the mattress, his body following. The weight of him on top of me feels divine, and I wrap every part of myself around him, my fingernails scoring into the hardened muscles of his trapezius.
His chest is insane. His ink a gorgeous tapestry. His breathtakingly handsome face. He really is magnificent to look at.
“What?” he asks, his lips soft as they kiss me.
Emotions pummel my heart from all directions. “Nothing…it’s just…”
I know I’m being irrational about the betrayal I’m feeling about welcoming another man into the bed I shared with my husband. I haven’t even been able to sleep in this room since Ryder passed away.
Fallon kisses the tear that slips free. “Tell me. Let me in. I’ll always be your safe place.”
How does he do that? How can loving him be so effortless?
And I do love him. More than I thought possible. It’s different from how I loved Ryder, but it’s just as powerful. And that scares the crap out of me. Losing Ryder almost killed me. And if I lost Fallon…
I smooth a lock of his damp hair off his forehead. “I’m just happy.”
The smile he gifts me with takes my breath away. “Put your hand over my heart.” I flatten my palm over the left side of his chest, feeling the solid thump underneath. “It beats only for you.”
“Would it be weird if I asked if we could go to the guest room across the hall?”
Fallon’s expression shifts with understanding. “Grab on and hold tight.”
He lifts me off the bed, and I bury my mortified face in his neck. What a sight we must look, naked and wet, as he cracks open the door and checks to make sure the coast is clear before hauling ass into the adjacent bedroom.
It’s so absurd, I can’t stop giggling.
“Just to be on the safe side,” he says, turning the lock, then tossing me onto the queen bed.
I’m still giggling when he grabs my ankles and pulls me toward him.
But my joviality morphs into moans when he lifts my leg and licks an erotic line up the inside of my thigh.
Edging his way up my body, his mouth paints a path across my nipples that are begging for him, and what he’s doing with his tongue has me on the cusp of exploding.
“Fallon, stop. I want you inside me when I come.”
His lips pucker around one nipple, and he pulls it into his mouth, then gently bites down, and my entire body shudders uncontrollably.
“Are you telling me I can make you come just from breast play alone?” he smugly inquires as he switches to my other breast.
The moan I make is so dirty. I can feel him smirk against my skin, that cockiness I love about him coming out.
“Oh, Kitten, you and I are going to have a lot of fun.”
“I thought what we did in the shower was pretty damn fun,” I reply and gasp when he takes my face between his hands, and I freefall into the sweet bliss that are Fallon’s kisses.
He takes his time and tastes me, inch by inch, as his mouth journeys down my neck and across my side to my butterfly tattoos.
“These are so beautiful,” Fallon murmurs, kissing each one. “Just like you are.”
My hands find the raised lines on his back, and I trail my fingertips up and down each scar. Fallon has survived so much horror. He is such a strong man.
He raises up on his arms, the thick muscles of his biceps and triceps stretching and bulging. So incredibly sexy.
There’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes when he looks down at me. “What’s your number?”
“My number?”
He kisses the tip of my nose and gives me one of his classic Fallon smiles full of devilry.
“The most orgasms you’ve had in a row.”
“I don’t know!” I splutter. “Four, maybe?”
“I’ll beat that by at least three,” he promises, crawling down my body and draping my legs over his shoulders.
Did he just guarantee me seven orgasms? I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.
“Hi, pretty pussy,” he says, and I burst out laughing.
“You are not having a conversation with my vagina.”
He gives me one long lick. “Ignore her. She’s just jealous because I’m down here now.”
The bed shakes as my giggles increase. Who knew Fallon was playful during sex?
My laughter suddenly stops because Fallon sends me to heaven as soon as he curls two fingers inside me and punishes my clit with his tongue.
When my shudders finally die down, Fallon announces with a grin, “That’s one.”
“Three, actually.”
He’s awakened my long-dormant libido, and I’m ravenous for him. And I want more. I want every single orgasm he vowed to give me.
I pull him back down to taste his lips wet with my arousal. It’s his turn to chuckle. “My woman has a dirty side.”
My woman.
He has no idea. But he’ll soon learn. I bring his hand to my mouth and suck the two fingers he used to finger-fuck me to ecstasy.
His pupils blow, raging desire clouding his crystal blue irises. “The things I want to do to you.”
Pushing on his shoulders, I flip our positions so that I’m now on top, straddling his waist. Linking our fingers, I pin his hands down to the bedcovers. “I think we need to even the score. Three-to-one isn’t exactly fair,” I say as I slither down his body.
I shouldn’t be this happy.
Facing Fallon—our heads sharing the same pillow, our bodies pressed close, my legs intertwined with his—I watch him sleep.
His face is relaxed, his lips parted slightly and upturned at the corners in a soft smile.
There’s a day’s worth of dark-blond stubble covering his jaw that my fingers are itching to touch.
He looks so boyish in slumber, angelic. So damn gorgeous.
Last night was incredible. It was perfect.
You never realize how much you miss true intimacy until it’s been taken from you.
And it’s not just the hot-as-hell sex. It’s the after.
The gentle strokes and touches. The soft kisses.
Feeling a man’s body wrapped around you as you sleep.
The comfort and safety you feel. The rightness of it all. How your heart settles and feels full.
“I can feel you staring,” he mumbles, his eyes still closed.
“I can’t help it.”
Fallon pulls me to him. I snuggle my face into his neck, breathing in the familiar musk of his skin, and his dick perks up.
One thing Fallon has a ton of is stamina.
He kept his promise last night, and I internally smile at how sore I am.
It’s the best kind of sore. I should give my body a break, but I want him again.
I nip the place on his neck I kissed.
“Jesus, woman. You’re insatiable.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not one fucking bit,” he replies, rolling me on top of him. He cups my breasts, his fingers playing with my nipples. “If I could live the rest of my life with my dick buried inside you, I’d die a very happy man.”
He moves his left hand to my side and traces my tattoos with his fingers. He’s a little obsessed with them.
“I want to hear more about New Zealand.”
During our momentary breaks last night to catch our breath before we would reach for one another again, we talked.
He asked me about medical school and working at Duke, and I asked him more about his world travels—the schools and shelters he built, the people he met.
Fallon has done so much good for so many women and their children.
I’m immensely proud of him and everything he has accomplished.
Fallon grips my waist and steadies me. “In a minute. I have more important things that need my attention. Grip the headboard, sweetheart.”
I eagerly comply, and he guides me down onto his cock, burying deep. We both moan at how good it feels. Even after several rounds with him over the last eight hours, I’m still embarrassingly wet for him.
I used to love morning sex. It was like a renewal, starting the morning off filled with heady endorphins and a sated smile. Morning sex is gentle and languid—soft. No better way to begin the day.
Using the headboard as leverage, he helps guide me as I ride him. Slowly. Sensuously. It doesn’t take long before the sweet waves of my orgasm cascade through me. Fallon rears up, taking my mouth in a soul-searing kiss, my name whispered from his lips as he comes inside me, filling me with warmth.
Collapsing on top of him, I smile against his chest, our bodies still intimately joined. My breathy sighs give sound to the contentment I’m feeling.
“What time is it?” I ask, too replete to move.
“No idea.” His head turns on the pillow, and he checks the bedside clock. “After eight.”
I don’t hear noises filtering through the closed bedroom door alerting me the kids are up.
“That feels good,” I say as he trails hypnotic lines up and down my back with his fingers that almost put me to sleep.
He breaks the peaceful tranquility when he asks, “What did Jay say to you last night?”
I knew we’d have to talk about it at some point, but I had hoped he wouldn’t bring it up until later. Like after I had coffee. And breakfast. And a nap.
“Not much actually,” I reply. “I’m meeting him after lunch.”
I don’t like how Fallon tenses underneath me or how his heartbeat grows more pronounced.
“I don’t want you going alone. If not me, then ask Jules to go with you.”
My hopes of spending a lazy morning in bed with him are ruined by his veiled assumption that Jayson would physically harm me.
“Thank you for your concern, but it’s unwarranted.”
“It’s completely warranted, Elizabeth, or have you forgotten what he did?”
That’s a ridiculous question because I will never forget how Jayson’s beautiful silver-gray eyes that used to look at me with so much love had glared at me with hurt, betrayal, and hatred. I lost my best friend that night.
Rolling off him, I get out of bed and head into the bathroom to clean the stickiness dripping down my thighs. “He was drunk.”
I catch my reflection in the mirror. Dear God, I look a sight. Sexed-up hair, finger bruises around my hips, a few new hickeys, and love bites that look worse than they are against my pale skin. Fallon and I were not gentle in our lovemaking.