Chapter 33 #2
“Aye, he’s still alive. A few of us meet up every year and camp and fish and drink.”
“Is that your therapy?”
He glanced down at me, studying my face. “Partly. But I also have an actual therapist.”
Surprised by this admission, I lifted my head. “Really?”
Walker nodded carefully, gaze assessing. “Rich. He’s an ex-marine.”
Pride swamped me as I reached out to caress his bearded cheek. This big macho man wasn’t too macho that he wouldn’t seek help when he needed it. I was so used to boys pretending to be men that Walker’s maturity was a massive turn-on. “You amaze me. You know that, right?”
His expression softened with affection. “Right back at you, baby.”
I shivered at the words, the endearment, and lightly brushed a tender kiss on his chest before nestling back into him. His last scar, a small, jagged line low on his gut, drew my fingers. “And this one?”
Walker’s entire being seemed to tense, and I swear the mood iced over in an instant. He took my hand and lifted it away from the scar. Suddenly, I was being maneuvered onto my side as the little spoon curled against Walker’s front. “Get some sleep,” he murmured in my ear.
Okay, so maybe there were some things he wasn’t emotionally mature about.
I forced myself to relax, but I couldn’t sleep. Staring unblinkingly into the dark of my bedroom, I listened to Walker’s breaths even out as he eventually fell asleep. It was our first time spending the night together. And I couldn’t even enjoy it.
That scar on his belly was like the woman on Princes Street.
There were things Walker didn’t want to tell me, and I didn’t want it to hurt … but it did.
This man knew everything about me.
Yet there were things I didn’t know about him, and I wondered if he’d ever really let me in.
Why was I the first woman he’d decided to try a relationship with?
What had made him remain a bachelor until me?
Who was the woman on the street? Was she his mother?
If so, why did he treat her like a stranger?
What caused that small scar on his belly?
Why did he take off for two weeks every year on the same date?
And if I was so different from all the women who’d come before me … why wouldn’t he talk to me?
Why wouldn’t he let me in?
I drifted off for an hour before I awoke again.
Walker had rolled over onto his back. Restlessness agitated me and my toes curled with the sensation.
Needing to do something, I slid out of bed and fumbled quietly in the dark for my gown.
The cottage was cold at night, so I shrugged on a robe and gently pulled open a drawer to grab socks.
I held my breath, hoping I wouldn’t wake Walker, but he didn’t so much as twitch on the bed.
Leaving the bedroom, I made my way downstairs and turned on the kitchen lights.
Unable to use my fancy new electric mixer because of the noise, I took some joy in mixing the chocolate cake batter by hand.
As the cake baked, I melted chocolate for the buttercream.
Removing it from the heat, I switched off the stove and leaned against the sink, bowl cradled to my stomach, as I stirred out the last of the lumps, trying not to think about the man upstairs in my bed.
Just then I heard the creaking of the stairs and looked up.
Seconds later, Walker appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing only his jeans.
He was so tall, his hair brushed the top of the doorjamb.
Leaning against it, he crossed his arms over his bare chest, and I tried and failed not to ogle him in his half-naked state.
“What’s up?” he asked, voice gruff with sleep.
“Nothing.” I pushed away from the counter. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Feeling naked beneath his perceptive, inquiring gaze, I held up the wooden spoon. “Want to lick it?”
Walker pushed off the jamb and crossed the room. He stopped to wrap his hand around my wrist to bring the spoon to his mouth. My breath caught at the intensity of his gaze as he licked off the chocolate.
A tingle of desire woke into a full-fledged pulsing.
“Good?” I choked out.
He nodded slowly, not releasing my wrist.
“I should … I should finish the buttercream. Cake’s in the oven.”
Walker released me, but only to lean over and switch off the oven.
I frowned, but he took the bowl out of my hand and rested it on the counter. “I have a better use for it.”
He pressed a hand to my stomach and gently nudged me back against the counter.
“Walker?” My chest rose and fell with confusion and anticipation.
Without a word, eyes still holding mine, he unknotted the tie on my robe and pushed it off my shoulders so it fell to the floor. And then he nudged down the straps of my nightdress until it pooled around my hips. My naked breasts prickled in the cold, my nipples tightening to hard buds.
Walker opened the cutlery drawer, took out a small spoon, and dipped it into the now cooled melted chocolate. Understanding made me gasp seconds before he poured the chocolate over my nipples. I sucked in a breath at the sensation, feeling it drip down my stomach.
Walker lowered to his haunches and took my nipple into his mouth.
The pull of his warm mouth, sucking and licking at the chocolate, caused sensation to streak down my belly and deep to the apex of my thighs.
I choked back a cry and grasped onto his shoulders, fingers biting into his warm, hard muscle as he took my other breast in his mouth.
Once I was swollen and throbbing, his lips moved down my stomach, lapping up any stray bits of chocolate.
As his tongue touched my lower belly, I whimpered, and the sound seemed to break the hold on Walker’s patient seduction. Suddenly, he tore my nightdress down my hips and I heard his quick intake of breath when he discovered I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
He yanked my right thigh up and over his shoulder, and I had to grasp onto the counter to steady myself as he buried his head between my legs and feasted on me. I bit my lip against the groans and cries lodged in my throat, undulating against Walker’s talented tongue.
“Fuck me,” I gasped, knowing that word from my lips did something to him.
His grip on my thigh turned bruising as he lifted his head to look up at me. “Need a condom.”
“I’m on the pill,” I reminded him.
Fire blazed in his eyes as he stood to his feet, lifted me into his arms, and crossed the room to rest my ass on top of the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Need rushed through me in desperate flickering flames as he shut the kitchen door to muffle whatever noise we were about to make.
As soon as he returned, Walker pushed down his jeans, spread my thighs, and curled them around his hips to surge into me.
The overwhelming fullness was perfect.
I rested my hands behind me, arching into his thrusts. He bared his teeth as his fiery eyes watched the way my breasts shook and trembled with every drive.
“Fuck, look at you,” he gritted out.
“Harder,” I panted, my head falling back as the table bumped against the wall with every stroke.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
I lifted my head, eyes hooded.
Walker’s face was etched with a sexy harshness that made me gasp as he thrust into me, so hard and deep, I had to bite my lip to stifle my cries.
My thighs trembled with tension and my arms ached from holding myself up against his powerful drives. Nothing else mattered. All my worries and insecurities were obliterated beneath his domineering and all-encompassing desire.
“You’re mine,” he growled as his hips slammed against mine. “I’m yours and you’re mine. Say it, Sloane. You’re mine.”
The orgasm exploded through me. Goddamn fireworks lighting up my freaking eyelids kind of exploding. My inner muscles clamped down hard on Walker, throbbing around him in voluptuous tugs that made him collapse over me, his forehead resting on my shoulder as my climax wrenched his own from him.
His hips shuddered, and he pulsed and released inside me.
“Oh, fuck.” Walker gasped against my skin, his grip bruising. He groaned my name as he trembled through his orgasm.
I shivered, my thighs quivering around his waist as he pressed his lips to my shoulder and pumped his hips a few more times. “I’m yours,” I whispered.
He lifted his head, his face slack with wonder. “I’m yours,” he promised me back.
And at that moment of blissful release, I desperately wanted to believe him.