Chapter 41 - Heston
HESTON
Hattie’s forehead falls forward with a moan. “Yes. God, yes. I need it, too.”
She’s so fucking pretty like this. This exact view of the curve at her waist and flair of her hips has been the star of many of my dreams. I pull her shoulders toward me to arch her back even more.
My hand slides over her shoulder blades and down her side so that I can anchor her hips. I’m just about to thrust into her when my eyes land on a black smudge on the side of her ribcage.
She looks over her shoulder to see why I’ve stopped moving. I lean to the side and twist her body slightly so I can get a better look.
It’s not big. A simple black outline-style tattoo. But it looks like a piece of . . . candy?
“That’s new.”
“Um, sort of.”
Hearing her tone of voice, I flick up my eyes to her face. She’s smiling, barely, and lifting the center of her brows like I didn’t just stumble upon a random new piece of artwork on her body.
“What is that?” I demand.
“It’s—” she laughs softly. “Don’t make fun of me.”
I straighten my back and pin her with a look. “Why would I make fun of you? What is it?”
“It’s a—jolly rancher.”
A smile breaks out on my face. “You’re fucking with me.” The laugh bubbles up from my throat before I can stop it. “I’m not making fun of you, I just wasn’t expecting it.”
I’m still smiling when she turns to face me and pulls me down for a kiss. “Now, don’t go around broadcasting to everyone that I have a candy tattoo on my ribs.”
“Tell me when you got that.”
“I don’t remember the exact time frame.”
“Bullshit.”
Her eyes gloss over. “Summer break. Last year.”
I pick her up and push her back against the wall.
My lips crash down on hers, and she tangles her fingers through the hair at the back of my neck with a nearly painful grip.
The water needs to be turned down because it’s hot as hell in here and filling every inch of the space with a thick curtain of steam, but I ignore it.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath. “I didn’t grab a condom.”
“Oh—well, I’m on birth control.”
It wouldn’t bother me if she weren’t. I’d go in with a damn smile on my face if she gave me the okay. The sheer thought of it has me seconds from giving in to my primal instincts and fucking her into another dimension.
But since she’s been with someone else . . . God, it cuts me to the core just giving the thought an ounce of attention. We were separated for years, though. I’d never dwell on it or make her feel like she’d done something wrong.
“Heston,” she says, pulling me out of my head. “I haven’t had sex with anyone else.”
“Neither have I,” I say. She kisses the corner of my lips, and my throat bobs with a thick swallow. “Wait, do you mean recently, or?”
“At all,” she clarifies. “You were the last.”
My forehead presses against hers. “Baby.”
“You’ll always be the last,” she adds in a whisper, still hovering her lips over mine.
“I love you,” I thrust my hips forward, filling her in one go. It feels every bit as devastating as I remember. I pull out before sinking all the way in again with a long moan. “Shit, Hattie. I fucking love you,” I repeat.
“I’m right here,” she says, squeezing her arms and legs around me. From the sounds of it, she might be crying, but I can’t know for sure because I’ve buried my face in the crook of her neck. “I’m yours. I love you, too.”
I’m yours.
I love you, too.
I’m yours.
Her words repeat in my head, over and over, with every thrust. I’m barely hanging by a thread when she clenches around me and bites down on the top of my shoulder.
After a string of sharp breaths, I feel her pulsing around me, and I let go right along with her. My whole world spirals as I screw my eyes shut and will my legs not to give out.
Everything clicks back into place in that moment.
Her lips skim across the side of my neck, and I hold our hips together, not wanting to ever pull out again. It’s always felt this way with Hattie, and I know for sure it’ll never change. Nothing could undo the way she owns me, body and soul.