Chapter 13 Crow
CROW
I follow Birdie upstairs. My thoughts are racing, but the tsunami in my chest is more than just fear and anxiety. Unlike in the past when I was content to get off and get a girl off, this isn’t like those other times. This is about so much more. This is about Birdie. About us.
I can’t overthink things for too long, though, because by the time we get to the top of the stairs, Birdie is reaching for my hand and dragging me into her room.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “Is this too soon?”
“Too soon?” I shake my head, emotions crashing in my chest like waves on a stormy sea. “Baby, I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for you.”
We stand beside her bed, just looking at each other. I reach for her hand and pull her close. She tucks her head against my chest, and I just breathe in the scent of her.
“Crow,” she whispers. “I-I have to bring something up…”
“What?” I growl, but it’s restrained. My sense of protectiveness for this woman takes over. As much as I want her for myself, I pull back and look into her eyes, concern warring with the excitement of anticipation and desire. “What is it? Do you have a headache? Because we can stop—”
“No.” Her smile is a little shy. “It’s been so long, I don’t even know if I have condoms in the house. If I do, they’re probably so old they’re brittle.”
My shoulders relax and I nod. Right. And also, shit.
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “I was tested for everything under the sun when I was inside. Haven’t been with anyone but my right hand in years.
I’m okay without if you are.” I can’t deny I want her.
Badly enough to be reckless? Enough to make short-term decisions with long-term consequences?
This is one time, one situation where I’m going to follow someone else’s lead.
“Birdie?” I whisper. “This is all you. What do you want?”
“God, I want you,” she sighs, dropping her forehead against my chest. Her words are soft but clear. “It’s the pregnancy thing,” she says. “I’ve got a one-for-one track record getting knocked up when I’m even the tiniest bit careless.”
Mia… Right, of course. “Okay. What do you want to do?” I ask.
She fists my shirt and tugs my face close to hers. Her breath is soft against my lips. “Be creative,” she suggests. “Until we have protection.”
“I can do creative,” I say. I wrap a hand behind her neck and nip her lower lip. “I’ll do creative forever if it means being with you.”
“Crow?” she gasps, a seductive smile on her lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this for…maybe since I first met you.”
Before I can say anything, how the scent of her has haunted my dreams, how she’s the best thing about being free again, the only thing I look forward to and the reason I can climb out of bed in the morning and face the bullshit and beauty of another day, Birdie is unfastening the buttons of my shirt.
Her fingers are moving slowly, almost like she’s nervous.
Every button, every inch, my heart is pounding harder in my chest, until I’m sure she’ll be able to feel the beat through my skin.
When she finally tugs the fabric over my arms and drops it on the bedside table, she looks at my chest for a moment, a girlish grin on her face. She trails her fingers over my pecs, the sensation sending shock waves of heat through my body.
“You’re fucking hot,” she says. “Phew.”
I shake my head, but my grin’s stretching from ear to ear. “Look who’s talking,” I mutter, but the words fade into a heated moan when she plants her lips on my sternum.
She kisses from my pecs to my stomach, her lips soft and her breath hot.
She trails the tip of her tongue along my skin, and while it should cool me, her touch sends my body into overdrive.
I’m hot, I’m shaking, and I’m in danger of losing control.
Every flick of her tongue feels so, so good, and she’s pushing me onto the bed so she can taste more of my skin with her mouth.
I’m lying on my back, my legs spread wide, and all I can see is Birdie. Birdie’s arms braced on the bed as she kisses every inch of my torso and belly. Birdie’s smile as she straddles my hips and leans close to tap my nose with hers.
“God, Crow, you taste so delicious,” she croons, before crushing my mouth with hers.
This kiss is frantic, a desperate, hungry tangle of tongues and lips, our teeth tapping against each other as we deepen the kiss.
My hands fisting her hair, her hands cradling the sides of my face so we’re connected in every possible way we can touch each other until we have to break apart, breathless and needing air.
“Crow,” she pants. Her lips are swollen, her chin red from the scrape of my stubble against her. “I want you so bad.”
I flip her onto her back, tugging her blouse away and tossing it aside a lot less carefully than she did mine.
“Sorry,” I pant, “I don’t have your patience.”
I stare down at her, her dark hair spilling over the pillows, her stormy eyes clearer than I’ve ever seen them.
Her nipples are so hard they look like they’re going to cut through the nearly transparent fabric of her bra, and for a moment, I just look at her.
I don’t touch, but I savor the woman she is. Her beauty. Her trust.
We’re in a nearly dark room, the little light there is allowing me to see how much this woman wants me. Just like I want her. We’re safe. We have a roof over our heads. And there’s nothing to do but pleasure each other. Learn each other’s secrets. All the ones we haven’t yet been able to share.
I don’t have the words for the storm of emotions and sensations fighting in my body and heart to take over, but it turns out, I don’t need to say or do a thing.
Birdie arches her back and reaches behind her to unfasten the clasp on her bra.
She’s shoving the straps down her arms and saying, “I’m so glad we met, Crow.
Who would have thought one of the hardest days of my life so far would bring me one of the best things that’s ever happened? ”
“Me?” I grit out.
My heart would probably explode even if she weren’t bare before me, her full breasts and nipples hard and looking sweet enough to eat.
“You,” she confirms.
I lower my head and draw one nipple into my mouth, slowly working my tongue over the hard tip.
The taste of her is better than the sweetest juice, more powerful than the burn of the best whiskey I’ve ever sipped.
She is heat and light, fire and sweetness, and I work her peaks with my mouth like her body itself can give me life.
She squirms and gasps with pleasure, and I respond to her every movement and moan, flicking and sucking until she’s scratching my back and pushing her chest against me.
She tears her fingers through my hair and pulls my face impossibly close to her breast. I kiss the fullness of it, nip the peak with my teeth, suck as much of the plush fullness into my mouth, every sound she makes like gasoline thrown on my fire.
I stop to claim her mouth again, sending my fingers on a journey to unfasten her pants.
She kisses me back roughly, sitting up and helping me undo the belt and zipper.
She leans back, and I wrestle the denim so I can see her, all of her.
Her panties come away with the jeans, so she’s lying on her back fully naked, her legs slightly shaking and her breasts bright pink from the rough love of my chin and teeth and lips.
What I wouldn’t do to feast on her this way every day.
Always. There are no limits, no resistance with Birdie.
She wants me as much as I want her, the desire emanating from her in waves.
“Anything off-limits?” I grit out. I want to learn her pleasure, every twist and stroke and lick and how to dial into her desire, but that’s gonna take time. Before we even start the trip, I wanna know where the boundaries are.
“I’m yours,” she whispers. “Anything you want.”
My entire body starts to vibrate like a plucked string at her open invitation.
I soak up her body first with my eyes. Her thighs, her knees slightly together, the long, slim muscles tense as she curls her hands into the sheet.
If her body is a banquet, I want to skip everything else and start with the dark mound of curls that sits enticingly like the main course.
Her thighs are hot under my hands as I stroke and knead the skin.
I feel my way from the tops of her legs to her knees, cupping the tight muscles of her calves in my palms. I settle between her legs and spread them wide, swallowing the last bit of fear, the last bit of rational thought that’s got my mind in a tailspin.
Stop thinking. Just feel.
I start with my fingers, parting the curls and teasing my way lower.
Her tiny sighs sound first like surprise and wonder, but they quickly change into heated gasps.
I move slowly past the V of her lips, dragging my fingers through her juices.
She’s so wet, I stroke her folds and dampen my fingertips so that when I find that tight bundle, I can work slippery circles around her bud.
It doesn’t take me long to find her sweet spot. She cries out my name and her legs twitch, so I ease back and take my time, drawing lazy circles over her clit. I may have been in a rush to get here, but now that I am, I’m taking my time.
“Crow, oh my God, right there… So good.” She starts to work her hips back and forth in time with my touch, so I keep my thumb on her clit to apply a little pressure while I slide my middle finger inside her.
She bucks against my hand, so I swap my thumb for my tongue and lick her clit in time with long, slow strokes along her walls with my fingers.
“Logan,” she pants, my real name sounding like a love song on her lips.