Chapter 13 #2
“That room,” I said, directing him to the bedroom I’d claimed as my own years before. He settled me on my feet and I tipped my head back, waiting for his kiss. He obliged, stroking his tongue against mine.
When we came up for air, my body tingled with need. He pressed his thumb between my lips, so I flicked my tongue over the pad. He groaned and lust tightened his features.
He glanced around the room.
“I’m…” His shoulders heaved and a stricken look crossed his expression. “Hell. I’m jealous. Being up here, knowing you spent years in Laurence’s bed.”
I clutched his forearm, which was thick and firm, causing me to shiver in delight. All of Steve was thick and firm, and I enjoyed every single inch.
“This is my room. Just mine. I took it a long time ago, and Laurence was never in here.”
He blew out a breath as he grimaced. “I feel ridiculous for thinking these things. I don’t have any right to your past—”
“You do because I want you to.”
He shuffled in closer so that his feet were between mine, and we touched from torso to thigh. He cupped my cheeks in his hands.
“You mean so much to me, Jasmine. It’s hard to express how strongly I feel all these emotions—my need to protect you, cherish you, laugh with you, argue with you.
” He smirked a little and then waggled his eyebrows.
“Make up with you, cook with you, just be with you. I’ve never felt this for another person.
Never yearned like this.” He lowered his head so our foreheads touched as he cupped my cheeks. “It’s so damn special,” he whispered.
Much as I wanted to close my eyes to savor those words, Steve needed to hear some, too. He was even more lost in this sea of emotions than I was.
I clutched his wrists and leaned in closer so that our lips touched. “I love you, Steve. You. Just you. For you…”
He crushed his mouth to mine, and I drowned in his intensity. So good.
Heat drizzled over my skin, much like the warm oil a masseuse used, but hotter. My skin tingled, and I moaned, pressing my body even tighter to his. Our mouths fused as my belly nestled his growing erection.
His heart thumped hard against my collarbone. His fingers tangled in my hair, tilting my head so his tongue could sweep more deeply into my mouth. I gasped, angling my hips.
“Please,” I murmured against his lips, unable to pull away.
He seemed to understand because his hands slid down, leaving an incendiary trail wherever they touched. By the time he reached my top, my muscles were both tight and lax, and I craved him. I needed more. So much more.
His fingers drifted over my cotton top, between my shoulder blades, down my spine. I cried out as he reached into the waistband of my jeans. His touch, so simple and light, made me burn. His lips moved to my neck, teeth nibbling on the tendon there as my fingernails dug into his biceps.
I fumbled with his shirt. I needed to touch his skin. My hands splayed wide on his back and I turned my head, our lips reengaging in a language only the two of us understood.
I need you.
I desire you so much.
You make me feel things I’ve never felt before.
I’m yours. Be mine. Always.
Yes. Always.
Steve pressed forward, and I shuffled back.
A small gasp exploded from me as the back of my knees hit the mattress.
I tumbled backward, but his large hands cradled me and I was safe.
I fumbled with his shirt buttons, my cast making the task more difficult.
Finally, they were free and I yanked the material over his shoulders.
He pulled back with a groan, not wanting to be away from me a moment longer than necessary.
I shimmied out of my jeans until I had to sit up to slip off my boots.
The rest of my clothes ended up in a tangle with his.
I liked us wrapped up together, around each other—even if it was our discards.
My smile turned to a gasp as his warm skin, roughened by his chest and leg hair, slid against my over-sensitized nerves.
“Don’t stop,” I moaned.
“Won’t.” Kiss. “But need to be closer.” Kiss. “In you.” His lips trailed down my neck and over my collarbone to my nipple. I clutched him more tightly to me.
“More.”
Steve set me ablaze. Sensation rioted, and I wanted more suction, more of his fingertips drifting along my inner thigh, more of his hard, muscled body shifting over mine. More of his hips wedged between mine. More of the heavy slide of his erection against my plumped lower lips.
More. More. More.
It was my chant as I groaned, and gasped, quivered, then screamed, all while Steve delivered.
He made my back arch off the bed as he pounded into my body. With one finally thrust, he huffed a soft breath and shuddered his release, as I slid, boneless, back to the soft comforter as I came down from an amazing orgasm.
He pressed his pelvis to mine, his lips to my neck where it met my shoulder.
I clasped him to me.
“Thank you.”
He chuckled. “Pretty sure that should be my line.”
I giggled. Damn, I did that a lot with him—this lightness with Steve felt new, like I’d either forgotten how to do or deemed myself too old to enjoy or want these moments of love blossoming deeper. Steve proved me wrong.
His arms were firm as he maneuvered me so I was on my side, facing him. We stared at each other, arms and legs still intertwined.
I blinked back tears. “Thank you for loving me,” I whispered. Overcome, I swallowed. He cradled me and I drew strength from him. Once I could speak again, I said, “Thank you for fighting for us.”
“Ah, beautiful, you did the fighting this go-round. I just made sure the boys were all martialed to our side.”
I smiled through my tears as I tipped my chin up to kiss him again.
“And that means everything.”
“I’m here for you, to stand by you, to fight for you.” He stared into my eyes until I nodded.
He took my mouth in a luxurious kiss.
“Always,” he breathed against my lips.