Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
KAYA
Ray hauls me against his chest and hugs the air from my lungs. “Thank you, Fire Eyes,” he whispers in my ear. He gives a slight squeeze, loosens his hold, but he doesn’t let go. Not yet.
We breathe each other in. Bask in the reality of what happens next. Give ourselves a moment to digest this step.
My pulse thrums in my ears. Rampant energy fires through every nerve ending in my body, a subtle tremble in my limbs and fingers. Effervescent thrill blooms beneath my diaphragm, a light sheen of sweat dampening my skin.
Did I really just agree to stay overnight? In his bed? With his son across the hall?
Yes, I did. And the more I think about it, the more my stomach twists in knots.
“We should get going.” Ray presses a kiss to my forehead, unravels me from his hold, leans back, and shifts his attention to Tucker. “Help me clean up, T-Man.”
While Ray and Tucker pack and tidy, I stare out at the bay and get lost in thought.
For years, I’ve held firm on my stance on romantic relationships. I wasn’t interested. Didn’t want my personal life to detract from my career. Period. I had a plan, a timeline, had constructed the path I wanted to follow. I’d never put it on paper but memorized it like the back of my hand.
And a relationship with Ray throws the plan down the garbage disposal.
But as I glance at him and Tucker picking up the remnants of our dinner and goofing off, my heart jolts to life.
The blueprint of my future can always be rewritten; I know that now. Because being with them is worth it.
Everything secured in the basket, we stroll to the car, my fingers laced with his. Ray unlocks and starts the car, hands Tucker leftovers after he situates Brody the Bear, then jogs back to the restaurant to set the basket inside.
The drive to my house is brief, quiet, and a little daunting. Ray parks in my driveway, leaves the engine running and makes no move to exit. My pulse stutters at his concession—a moment to myself. A respite I didn’t know I needed, but somehow, he did.
I slip out of the car. “Won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’ll let Tucker entertain me with his vocal talent.” I don’t miss the hint of sarcasm in his voice.
The car door closes with a soft but startling snick . Anticipation swirls in my belly as I head for the front door. Every step forward is a heavier press on the accelerator of my pulse. As I ascend the porch steps, the fuzzy lines of reality turn crisp, clear.
Keying in the code, I unlock and open the door. Step inside and suck in a sharp breath. Close the door and sag against the wall. Exhale slowly, giving me a minute to absorb the day and consider what will change after tonight.
I agreed to spend the night at his house. To sleep in his bed. To wake up in the morning and share breakfast with him and Tucker in my pajamas.
Staying overnight is new territory. Terrain I hadn’t planned on navigating for years. Yet here I am.
Hovering in the foyer, panic filters in from all sides. My stomach flips and dips, nausea clawing its way up my throat. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on something unrelated. A calming hobby or task.
Gardening .
One breath, then another, I focus on a recent memory. Let it take over and settle my nerves.
My fingers sifting through the rich earth. Glimpses of hearty vegetables in the soil, on stalks, and hanging from vines. The swell of gratitude as I fill baskets with corn, beans, sweet potatoes, and gourds. My meditative state as I prepare the land for new seedlings.
More at ease, I inhale deeply and open my eyes. Push off the wall, straighten my spine, and head for my bedroom. Flipping on the light, I shuffle to the closet for an overnight bag and sling the strap over my shoulder. I stare at my wardrobe, dazed and frozen, unsure what to pack. Apprehension trickles in as I veto one garment after another.
Do I pack normal pajamas or something more revealing?
Regular pjs. Tucker will be home.
Should I bring sexy lingerie or stick with comfy cotton?
Provocative undergarments are a guilty pleasure. Something I buy for myself and no one else. When I need a confidence boost, I slip on a lace or silk set. Let it embolden me on more difficult days.
Tonight, I may need that extra support.
I shove pajamas, lingerie, and cotton underwear into the bag. Tug a shirt from the hanger, grab shorts from the dresser, and add them to the overnighter. Head to the bathroom and load my toiletry bag. Force myself to think of anything other than the lacy panties and bra beneath tomorrow’s outfit.
Jittery, I zip the bag closed, turn off the light, and walk out the door. When I step onto the porch and lock up, Ray exits the car, meets me halfway, and takes my bag to put in the trunk.
“Thank you,” I say and slip into the passenger seat.
When he’s back in the car, Ray takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “No thanks necessary.”
The miles from my house to his are a blur. Tucker talks to Brody the Bear about his room and other toys. Ray caresses my hand with his thumb the entire ride. And in a matter of minutes, gravel crunches as we turn onto the driveway. Ray reaches up, presses a button near the visor, and the garage door opens.
When Ray puts the car in park, my pulse soars. This is it.
Perspiration licks my skin as I exit the car. My nails biting my palms as I wring my fingers at my sides. I startle when Tucker slams his door and charges inside the house. Slap a hand to my chest when Ray sidles up to me and rests a hand on my lower back.
He ducks his chin, his breath warm on my ear. “Breathe, Fire Eyes.”
I nod woodenly and do as he says.
Ray shoulders my bag, kisses my temple and leads us into the house.
Tucker kicks off his second shoe as we enter and flings them toward the door in the foyer. He bounds toward the living room, flips on a light, and plops down on the couch. “I’ll find a movie.”
Ray and I toe off our shoes, and he straightens Tucker’s next to ours. Banding an arm around my waist, he leans in and presses his lips to my forehead. “Going to put your bag in the room. Make yourself at home.”
Before I say a word, he climbs the stairs and disappears, my overnight bag in his hand.
This is really happening.
I jump as intro music for the movie booms through the speakers.
Tucker dashes to my side, grabs my hand, and yanks me toward the kitchen. “We need to get movie snacks, Miss Kaya.”
A task. Perfect. “What are our options?”
He opens the pantry door, drops my hand, flips on the light, and steps into the small walk-in closet–sized room. “Popcorn, licorice, different kinds of chocolate…” He pulls a bin off one of the shelves, hugs it to his chest, and moves past me to set it on the kitchen island. Package after package, Tucker dumps every possible sweet and salty movie snack on the counter. “Chips, jelly beans, gummy worms or bears, peanut butter cups.”
Is the bin some magical, endless storage container for snacks?
Ray rounds the corner, his eyes wide as he witnesses the chaos of Tucker unloading all the treats. “Hey, bud. Let’s pick two or three and put the rest back.”
Tucker purses his lips then rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, tone melodramatic. “Cheesy chips, gummy bears, and peanut butter cups.”
“Good choices,” I say, helping him put everything away.
Ray sends Tucker upstairs to change into pajamas. I take the snacks to the living room while Ray grabs drinks. Mere seconds later, Tucker flies down the stairs, beats Ray to the living room, grabs the bag of chips, and takes his spot on the couch.
Movie time is much the same—Ray and I squished together, my hand in his and our fingers laced. For an hour, I aim my attention at the screen. Do my best to focus on the show, eat a handful of gummy bears, and ignore what happens when the television shuts off.
Tucker’s soft snores fill in the quieter parts of the movie a half hour before it ends. Ray kisses my temple, gives my hand a squeeze before releasing it, then carries Tucker upstairs to bed.
Unable to sit still, I take the uneaten snacks and empty glasses to the kitchen. Tidy up to distract myself.
It isn’t the idea of sex that makes me fidgety. Sex with Ray is otherworldly. A literal fantasy come to life. One I want to live again and again.
What has me spinning my bracelet over and over is the emotional attachment and possible expectations that come with staying overnight. Is he ready for that? Am I?
My insides twist.
What happens when the postcoital bliss wears off? Will reality slap him once more? Will he change his mind and kick me out of his bed again?
Lost in thought, I jump and almost drop a glass in the sink when warm hands clutch my hips.
Breath tickling the curve of my neck, he mutters, “Sorry.” And then his lips are on my skin. Soft. Hungry. Coaxing as they trail up, up, up the side of my neck.
I set the glass down, tip my head back, and rest it on his shoulder. Roll my eyes closed and hum as fire licks my skin, as every nerve ending sparks to life, as every worried thought vanishes.
How this man turns a string of simple kisses into torturous foreplay, I’ll never know. But I ache for his touch, his lips, his bare skin on mine. The fire that exists between us.
He releases my hip, reaches forward, and cuts off the water. “Let’s go to bed, Fire Eyes.”
Bed.
My apprehension returns, a coiled thread twisting in my stomach. Pulsing. Shaking. Strung impossibly tight.
Speechless, I nod.
Pressing another kiss to my shoulder, he takes my hand and guides us out of the kitchen. Each step up the staircase is a jolt to the swirling anxiety in my belly. On each inhale, I remind myself this isn’t new. Ray and I have been here—sex.
But this isn’t like before.
Tonight, after we’re boneless, breathless, and basking in our afterglow, I’ll fall asleep in his arms. Buried under linens with his black amber and lavender scent infused in the cotton, we’ll cross off another milestone on our relationship list.
A shiver rolls up my spine, tingles ripple down my arms, and I noticeably tremble as we reach the top landing. Ray tightens his hold on my hand, the only indication he feels the tremor.
We enter his room unhurried. The soft glow of the bedside lamp warm, inviting, familiar. Ray pauses to close the door, the soft click deafening.
My pulse soars and hands quiver.
Ray molds his front to my back, winds his arms around my middle, and kisses my temple. “Relax, Fire Eyes,” he whispers against my skin. “I’ve got you.”
I melt into him. Let his strength and reassurance settle in my bones. Let his words quell my nerves. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and picture my stress withering away. On the exhale, I wrap my fingers around his forearms. Soften against every firm inch of him. Let go of my worries and give in to what I feel.
“That’s my girl.” He sweeps my braid aside and peppers kisses down my neck. “God, I love how soft you are.” Calloused fingers dance over my shoulders in the softest caress before they wander the length of my arms.
A fiery storm simmers beneath my skin. Little sparks crackling under his touch as he traverses my body.
Ragged breath at the sensitive spot beneath my ear, his lips ghost over my rapid-beating pulse. Teasing. Taunting. A delicious form of torture a beat before his tongue darts out and tastes me.
A shiver rolls through me, goose bumps pebbling my skin, arousal pooling between my thighs.
An audible growl vibrates his chest, his hands drifting to my hips, his greedy fingers kneading, possessive. “So responsive.” The tip of his nose skims the shell of my ear. “So beautiful.”
Spinning in his arms, I frame his face with my hands and push up on my toes. Claim his mouth with a ravenous kiss. Show him exactly how responsive I can be.
Eager hands wander the length of my spine and curves of my ass a beat before he hoists me up. My legs circle his waist as his fingers slip under the skirt of my dress, massaging, exploring. On a groan, he breaks the kiss. “I’ll never get my fill of you, Fire Eyes.”
“Me either,” I admit, breathy. My fingers comb through his hair, fist the thick locks, and take his mouth again.
The corded muscles of his arms flex and hug me closer as we cross the room. Pin me to his hips. Rock my core over his hard length with each stride. As he lowers me to the bed, the kiss turns frenzied. Desperate. Libidinous moans bounce off the walls as I dig my heels into his back, craving more pressure. He kisses his way up my jaw, then pushes up to hover above me, those addictive umber irises holding me captive.
An unexpected tenderness softens his expression as he cups my cheek. I don’t dare ask what it means. Not now. But the flutter in my belly says I already know.
Gaze magnetized to mine, he toys with my hair and slowly drifts down the length of my braid. Tugs off the elastic band secured at the end and unravels the thick plait until he reaches my nape. Gingerly combs my locks with his fingers and hums.
On the next breath, his pupils dilate and lips part. His fingers curl into a fist at the base of my neck. And with a swift yank, my head tips back and breathing shallows as my neck is exposed.
A muffled growl floats through the room. “The ways in which I struggle…”
My brows pinch in confusion. “With what?”
He dips down and trails the tip of his nose up the column of my throat and along my jawline. “I want to be sweet with you. Tease you with the barest of touches. Watch you come undone as I move in and out of you, slowly, steadily.” He grazes the angle of my jaw with his teeth. “But I also want to be rough. Knead your curves and mark your skin. Fuck you hard enough everyone in town hears you scream my name.”
My breath hitches and nipples stiffen as arousal drips down my ass.
Lips pressed to the sensitive skin beneath my ear, he groans. “You like that, don’t you, Fire Eyes? The idea of me claiming you.” He nips my skin then drifts lower. “Marking you.” His mouth opens wider, clamping down a beat before he sucks the slope of my neck for one, two, three ragged breaths. “Ruining you for anyone else.” He tugs the strap of my dress off my shoulder and licks the length of my collarbone.
I tip my head to the side. “Yes,” I confess, voice unrecognizable, breathy. God, I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him.
He claims my mouth once more, devouring me like a starved man. Nimble fingers knead my body, massage my curves, then settle at the dip of my waist. He drives his hips once, twice, then bands an arm around my waist, pins me to his chest, and rolls us over.
Hands planted on his chest, his body at my mercy, a rush of power floods my bloodstream as I stare down at him. The shift in control is heady, potent.
Fingers trailing up my spine, he reaches the top of the zipper on my dress. Painfully slow, he drags the metal down the teeth. Parts the back of my dress and caresses my exposed skin. Rocks his hips up and grinds his erection against my center. One strap followed by the other, he peels the flowy fabric off until it pools at my waist. Snaps his fingers, releases the clasp of my bra, and tosses it aside.
Then, I’m on my back again.
He peppers kisses on the swells of my breasts, my belly, my navel as he inches down my body. Each kiss is a direct line to the ache between my thighs. A secret button press that has me weeping for more.
With a thump, his knees hit the floor. Hands at my waist, he drags my dress down my legs then rises to his full height. Reaches up, grabs the back collar of his shirt, and tugs it over his head. Before I can memorize the ridges of his abdomen, he unfastens his shorts and shoves them down his thighs.
My tongue peeks out and wets my lips.
The bed dips a beat before he’s over me again, the heat of him pressed to every inch of my body. He kisses me once, twice, then licks and sucks and nibbles his way down my throat. Breasts in his greedy hands, he circles a nipple with his tongue then adds a little teeth. I gasp. Feel his smile a beat before he wraps his lips around the stiff peak and sucks. Hard.
I fist and tug his hair. Arch my back and thrust my breasts into his eager touch. Hiss as he gingerly bites my nipple then shifts his attention to the other.
“Mine,” he growls as he releases my nipple and licks his way down to the waistband of my panties.
“Yours,” I whisper then suck in a sharp breath as he grazes the skin of my lower abdomen.
Dark, hooded eyes pin me in place as he hooks a finger on either side of my panties and inches them down my legs. And then he’s there, hovering above the junction of my thighs. His tongue darts out and wets his lips as he hooks my legs over his shoulders, slips his hands under my ass, and hauls me closer.
I can’t take my eyes off him.
Nose pressed to my skin, he inhales a slow, measured breath. Rolls his eyes closed and hums. “Divine.” My body vibrates as he drags his tongue up my center, his fingers bruising the insides of my thighs. “The only taste I want on my tongue.”
I lose all sense of reality as he flicks and sucks my clit, then dips lower and spears me with his skillful tongue. Eats me savagely. Each shameless slurp and lap of his tongue edges me closer but is nowhere near enough.
I need more.
Cupping my breasts, I roll my nipples between my fingers. Give them a slight tug. Gasp as I relish the bite of pain.
He groans against my pussy, the vibration better than any toy in my arsenal. Rooting his fingers in my flesh, he devours me, his smoldering gaze locked on my breasts.
Focused on his fiery stare and the throbbing ache between my thighs, I miss the shift of his arm. As I rock dangerously close to the edge of my orgasm, he slips a finger into my pussy. Followed by a second, and I whimper.
“Give me what’s mine.”
He pumps his fingers, again and again, his mouth relentless on my clit.
I detonate. Fist his hair and the bedding. Cry out, then cover my mouth.
But he doesn’t let up. Resolute and insatiable, he sucks my clit harder. Pistons his hand faster until I reach the other side of my orgasm. “Stunning,” he mumbles against my skin.
My eyes fall shut, my arms collapsing at my sides as I attempt to catch my breath. Goose bumps dance over my skin as his hold on me loosens and the heat of him vanishes. My pulse soars at the sudden chill, a wave of panic blanketing me as my eyes fly open.
What I’m met with vanquishes every ounce of dread.
Thick and pulsing, his cock juts out, a bead of precum glistening the tip. A soft swish followed by the crinkling of foil hits my ears.
I push up on my elbows. “Wait.”
Fingers paused on the wrapper, his eyes dart to mine with silent concern.
Sitting taller, I reach for and take the condom. Swallow past the sudden lump in my throat as I lock onto his intoxicating umber eyes. “I’m on birth control.”
A flurry of emotions flickers across his face. Lust. Yearning. Thrill. Fear. It’s the last one that gives me pause.
“Hey.” I drop the condom on the bed, scoot closer to him, and take his hand. “Just wanted you to know.” Bringing his hand to my lips, I kiss each of his fingertips. “But if you feel better using a condom, I am on your side.”
Deep lines form between his brows then smooth out. “It’s just that…”
Not using a condom is probably how Tucker came to be, and he doesn’t want to risk it. He put his trust in someone else’s hands, and it flipped his world upside down.
“I know.” Eyes on his, I pluck the condom from the bed, tear it open, toss the wrapper, and lift the latex to his weeping cock. “May I?”
His dick twitches inches from my face as his lips part. Desire replaces the fear in his eyes. Cupping my jaw, he presses the pad of his thumb to my bottom lip, adds a little pressure, and sweeps across it. “Never have to ask, Fire Eyes.”
Leaning forward, gaze firmly locked on his, I stick out my tongue and slowly lick the head of his cock. Moan as the salty precum dances over my taste buds. Bask in the way his eyes roll back and hips rock forward.
Inching back, I pinch the end of the condom and roll it down his length. Cup his balls and roll them in my palm once, twice, then stroke his length root to tip.
“Mine.” The single syllable a bold declaration.
Soft grip on the underside of my jaw, he tips my head back and bends at the hips until his breath paints my lips. “Yours,” he growls. Then he claims my mouth.
We’re a frenzy of urgent touches, fevered skin, and hungry mouths. Easing onto the bed, he leans back against the headboard and holds out his hands. I crawl closer, take his hands, and straddle his thighs.
Hands on my hips, he bruises my flesh. “Ride me, Fire Eyes.” He palms my ass and hauls me forward until I hit the base of his cock. “I want to watch you take me. Need to see that fire burn in those gorgeous eyes.”
Gripping his shoulders, I lift and inch forward. Press my mouth to his in a searing kiss as I ease down and his tip nudges my entrance. Thread my fingers through his hair and deepen the kiss a breath before I sink and take his entire length at once.
We gasp in unison, breaking the kiss. My eyes roll back as I revel in how full I feel in this position. Yet it’s still not enough.
More . I always need more of him.
Dropping my forehead to rest on his, I rock my hips back, then glide forward until I can’t take him any deeper. He shudders beneath me and fists my hips. I repeat the move again and again, each stroke faster than the previous. Sweat pebbles our skin. Our moans blend with the slap, slap, slap of our bodies.
His grip on my hips turns ruthless as he guides our thrusts. Drives them harder, faster. A loud thwack echoes through the room, my ass cheek hot and tingling.
I lean back and drop a hand on the bed. Grab his arm with my other hand. Ride him like a rodeo champion. Cry out when his lips wrap around my nipple and suck. Moan unabashedly when he adds teeth. Miss the feel of his mouth when he releases the tight bud with a pop .
“Look at you,” he croons, pistoning my hips faster up and down his length. “Taking my cock like a good fucking girl.”
He licks from my cleavage to my chin, slides his hands up my sides, and brings me closer to him. An arm bands around my lower back as the other hand snakes up my spine and pauses at the nape of my neck. He nips my bottom lip then kisses it. “You’re close.”
Clinging to him, I tip my head back, close my eyes, and roll my hips. “So close.”
His hand on my lower back shifts, his finger slinking between my ass cheeks, lower and lower. He slicks the digit with my arousal then shifts back. “I want you dripping down my cock,” he purrs. “My balls.” His finger grazes the hole between my cheeks. “Come for me, Fire Eyes.” His finger slips inside a place no one else has been, and it’s like a match to a fuse. “ Mine .”
Stars dance across my vision as I gasp. Wave after perpetual wave, the orgasm rolls through me with the promise to never stop.
One, two, three more quick thrusts, Ray shatters beneath me, his fingers bruising my ass as my name spills from his lips. Body shuddering, he wraps me in his arms and secures me to his chest until our breathing levels out.
Silence echoes around us, but it’s comfortable. Perfect in the moment.
He eases me off his lap, goes to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, and returns with a warm washcloth. Every touch is gentle, unhurried. Pressing a kiss to my forehead, he takes the cloth to the bathroom, goes to the dresser, and comes back with pajamas for us both.
Everything about tonight feels natural. Routine. Sublime.
We slip under the covers, Ray turns off the light, and we adjust to the new sleeping arrangement. His front to my back, an arm around my waist and his lips pressed to my hair, he takes a deep breath and sighs. Content. Happy.
Eyes heavy, body sated, the weight of sleep lulls me under. Just before it does, he whispers into the dark.
“Never met anyone like you.” He kisses my hair with reverence. “Won’t lose you.” He hugs me closer, tighter. “You’re mine, Fire Eyes.” A hum vibrates between us. “And I’m yours.”
Lazy smile on my face, I drift off to sleep.