Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Thorn
Our fingers are woven together as we step off the elevator, the soft bing greeting us along with—
“Meow!”
Violet.
“Oh, baby,” River says, crouching down and scooping her up, cuddling her against her chest. “I missed you too.”
Violet’s purrs are ridiculously loud and they only intensify when I move to the kitchen and snag her bag of treats.
“Meow, meow, meow!”
“Silly girl,” River murmurs, setting her down and stroking her back as I dump a handful of treats in front of her.
We stand there, watching Violet chow down, silence settling between us.
It’s not uncomfortable, not this time.
It’s peace and patience and…for once, a future that doesn’t feel out of reach.
“Are you tired?” I ask when Violet finishes eating and pads over to curl up on her usual spot on the couch.
River shakes her head. “No.”
“You want to pick the movie?”
Her eyes go soft. “No,” she whispers.
My brows lift. “I thought you told me that my movie picks are subpar.”
“That’s because you’ve barely watched any.” She rounds the island, comes to stand beside me, settling her hand on my chest.
“Have I told you you’re absolutely stunning in that dress?”
A sweet smile, her hand flattening on my chest, “Yes, honey, you have.”
“Not nearly enough.” I bend, press my lips to the hinge of her jaw. “You are so fucking beautiful, you take my breath away.” She tilts her head to the side, giving me room to drag my mouth along the column of her throat.
“Thorn,” she murmurs.
“Hmm?” I ask, flicking my tongue out and tasting the dip of her collarbones.
“I don’t want to watch a movie.”
“Read then?” I say, nuzzling at the base of her throat then. “That first book ended on a cliffhanger.”
She laughs, her hands sliding into my hair, holding my mouth against her. “As good as book two is, that’s not how I want to spend the rest of the night.”
“No?” I drag my hands up her sides, resting them on the silk and velvet of her bodice, feeling her lungs work beneath my palms.
“No,” she says, drifting closer.
“Then what, love?”
In answer, she reaches behind her.
It’s not until I hear the soft ziiip that I realize what she’s done.
And by then, she’s nudging her dress down, sending it puddling to the floor, and—sweet baby Jesus—she’s stepping out of that circle of material.
Wearing—
“Fuck,” I rasp.
She smiles shyly, her cheeks going pink. “I was hoping you’d get to see it.”
It being miles and miles of creamy skin lovingly encased in emerald lace.
“You’re beautiful.”
More pink, but she just smooths her hands over my chest, slipping them beneath my jacket, pushing it back off my shoulders.
It lands silently next to her dress and then she’s working at the buttons on my vest, my shirt.
“Baby,” I say. “We don’t have—”
“I want to.” She caresses my bared skin, sending shivers down my spine and blood to my cock. “The question is…do you?”
My actions are my answer.
I scoop her up and carry her down the hall.
Not to my bedroom—I haven’t slept a night in there, not since that first night she let me hold her close.
“You romantic,” she teases as I settle her on the mattress of the guest room.
“Pathetic, more like.” I stroke back her hair. “Your scent faded days ago. I was just pretending it was still here.”
“I stole one of your shirts and slept in it at night.”
“Yeah?”
“I like the real thing much better.”
I chuckle and climb onto the bed beside her. “Yeah, I do too.”
Peaks and valleys, soft skin and luscious curves.
“I love you,” I murmur, tracing a finger over her torso, connecting a path of freckles.
“I love you.” She captures my finger, brings it to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the tip. “But I wanted you for a long time, honey. Will you…” Her cheeks flush. “Will you make love to me?”
I open my mouth to ask her if she’s sure.
Then I see that for what it is—me doubting myself…and her.
Because the truth is right there in her eyes.
So instead, I kiss her, slow at first, soft and sweet and gentle, and then when her lips part on a moan, deeper, dipping my tongue into her mouth, tangling it with hers, tasting her until we’re both panting and there’s no blood left in my brain.
Mostly because it’s all in my cock.
Not that River minds.
Her legs part, her pelvis cradling mine as she rocks against me. “You feel so good, honey,” she murmurs as I flick open her bra, as I drag the material down her arms.
“You do too,” I groan, grinding against her, cupping her breasts and sliding my thumbs over the soft pink buds of her nipples.
A gasp. A moan.
Her body arching, pressing her breasts into my hands, her hips working faster.
“Fuck,” I growl, bending so I can take one hard nipple into my mouth.
“Thorn!”
I take my time, learning what she likes then doing it over and over again, until her skin is flushed and glistening with sweat, until she’s writhing beneath me, her head thrashing from side to side on the pillow.
Then I’m sliding my hand down, shifting my hips away from hers, slipping my fingers beneath the scrap of lace masquerading as underwear and—
“Christ, I love how wet you are.”
I circle her clit, dip a finger down and gently stroke at her entrance.
“Yes,” she whispers. “More.”
I slip inside, feel the hot, slick clench of her pussy holding me tight. “Still more, little hen?”
A shudder. “Y-yes.”
Deeper, deeper. Fuck, I need to feel her wrapped around my cock.
But…patience.
“More,” she demands as I stroke in and out, as her pussy flutters around me, as her desire coats my fingers, my palm.
I drag her underwear down her thighs, toss them to the side.
And then I’m spreading her legs wide, bending down, and—
I groan as the taste of her hits my tongue.
“Oh, God!” she moans, arching against me, grinding against my mouth, but I don’t stop her. I ride that wave, sucking and licking, nipping and kissing, thrusting my fingers inside her and fucking her with them slow and steady and—
She clamps down around me. “Thorn!”
Her body goes tense as pleasure rolls through her, legs clamping around me, neck arched back, eyes slammed shut.
And then…
She goes limp, her eyes slitting open, her mouth curving up. “Now you,” she murmurs, reaching for me.
Maybe another day I would tell her we should wait, tell her we don’t need to do this…
But I want this. And so does she.
And we’re fucking living.
I kiss her and touch her, stroke her and hold her, and only when she’s ready again, making those sexy little moans in the back of her throat as she arches against me, do I part her legs and slide home.
We both groan at the fit, tight and slick and hot and fucking perfect.
“Now,” she whispers. “Please, Thorn.”
Then we’re moving in tandem, our bodies in perfect sync as we manuever through a dance that’s beautiful as the ones we shared beneath the lanterns at the ball tonight.
It’s lazy, a slow loving in every sense of the word, and when her orgasm rises up and draws her under, I’m right there with her, being coaxed into pleasure so all-encompassing it sends my strokes wild, my vision hazy, my body limp as I collapse on top of her.
“Holy shit,” she whispers long moments later, our breaths finally slowing, my body finally settling back down to Earth.
“You can say that again,” I murmur, rolling to the side so I don’t crush her.
“Or,” she says quietly, nudging me to my back and clambering on top of me, “we can do that again.”
I grin.
And then her hands start moving.
And then my grin becomes a groan.