Grace
I watch carefully as his pupils dilate in response.
He draws in a steadying breath before he replies, “I’ve waited twelve years to hear those words.
” Not a moment too soon, his lips crush mine in an all-consuming kiss.
His hands slide up to cup either side of my jaw; mine wrapping around his neck possessively.
His fingertips press into the side of my neck as he deepens the kiss, owning my very being.
Our tongues collide with a passion I haven’t felt for the longest time.
He tastes different, better. There’s nothing but the sound of our heavy breathing in my ears keeping me grounded.
Far too soon, Tucker pulls back, but my face remains encased in his grasp.
He’s looking at me with such vigor, causing a shred of vulnerability to cut through our haze of lust. “I never thought anything would taste better than your kisses all those years ago, but I was wrong.” He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“The thirty-year-old you tastes heaven sent.”
The way he can balance such sweet words with such ferocious kisses is a skill I can only dream of one day possessing.
Right now, I’m still struggling to string together a single coherent sentence in my head, much less actually getting it to form in my mouth.
All I can do is gaze up at him, silently hoping it’s enough to portray how I’m feeling.
Tucker dips his head, his lips on mine once more.
But this time it’s slower. Still just as deep, just as passionate, but it’s languid instead of rushed, like he’s trying to savor every drop.
Heat slithers down my spine, stopping right at the apex of my thighs.
My jeans feel too tight, my shirt too clingy.
Tucker continues to claim my mouth, running a hand down my back and stopping when he reaches the waistband of my jeans.
The movement itself isn’t sexual, but it might as well be with the way it makes me buck my hips involuntarily, grinding against Tucker.
I smile against his lips when I feel the bulge in his jeans, pleased I’m not the only one feeling a little hot and bothered.
Reluctantly, I pull my lips from his to look him in the eye.
“I’m ready for that skill demonstration now. ”
The weight of my words hangs between us, and I see the exact moment they register with Tucker—those gorgeous caramel eyes of his flare with desire, never leaving my face.
He drops a quick kiss on the corner of my lip before requesting I lift up.
My belt buckle is undone in a matter of seconds, my jeans button and zipper along with it, and then Tucker’s fingertips are brushing against the sensitive skin of my stomach and hips as he drags the waistband down, down, until my jeans hang around my ankles.
Like the gentleman he’s always been, he kneels down and removes each boot with ease—yet another move that isn’t sexual by any means, but the promise of what’s to come is almost too much to bear.
Once my bottom half is stripped down to just my underwear and socks, Tucker stands, a satisfied smile on his lips.
He places a hand on each of my knees, gently pushing them apart.
When he’s satisfied with the distance, he steps into the space between them.
My entire body aches for his touch. For him.
Tucker grips my chin between his fingers, tilting my head up, and kisses me once more.
His kiss feels like home, and it’s terrifying.
We stay like this—just kissing, nothing more—for so long I worry he’s changed his mind.
I’m not mad about it, though, because kissing him has turned me on more than I ever imagined it would, especially after all this time—
“Oh.” I startle when I feel Tucker’s fingertip slide up the center of my underwear, stopping just south of my clit.
The sensation of his intimate touch is so electrifying and so good.
My attempts at grinding into his touch are futile at best; I’m not at the right angle.
Just as I’m about to tell him to hurry up and touch me, he drags my underwear to the side with a hooked finger and repeats the movement.
I let out a gasp, my entire body clenching for dear life.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve dreamt of feeling you wet for me again, Gracie. But the real thing? Fuck, this blows all of those dreams out the water. You are fucking divine.”
There’s a lot of things I missed about Tucker over the years, but one that sits high on the list is this right here—his ability to speak absolute filth and have me eating out of his hand with every word.
My thought pattern shatters when Tucker slips his finger inside me.
“Fuck,” is all I can manage. It’s unbelievable how intense just one of his fingers feels, my body squeezing him with the power of a vice grip.
“God, you’re just as responsive as I remember. I always loved that about you.”
The sound I let out is somewhere between a whimper and a moan; a lust-fueled garble.
It takes all my focus to keep breathing as he slides his finger back and forth, in and out, stroking that sensitive spot inside me with each movement.
Apparently my steadied breathing fuels Tucker, causing him to add another finger on his next thrust. I suck in a breath, eyes closed, at a loss—how do I feel so fucking full with his fingers alone?
He finds his rhythm, giving me a moment of reprieve to catch my breath. But it’s short-lived, because the second his thumb finds my clit, I know I’m a goner.
“Fuuuck,” I moan.
“That’s it. Come for me, Gracie.” I’m still squeezing my eyes shut, my breathing short and sharp, when the pleasure begins to roll through me.
It starts at the base of my skull and seeps down my spine, slowly, and then crescendos between my thighs.
I groan, far too loudly, throwing my head back in pleasure.
Several seconds pass before I can bring myself to move. I can’t believe how entirely spent I am. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a powerful orgasm, and even longer since a man has given me one. What a cruel twist of fate that the man who’s managed it is the one I shouldn’t want.
I gingerly return my neck to its normal resting place, still evening out my breathing. The face that greets me takes it away again. Tucker smiles at me—not just any old smile, but one that lights up his entire face. It’s beautiful, and huge, and it’s all mine.
For now. It’s all mine for now.
Completely oblivious to my growing inner turmoil, Tucker gently places my underwear back in place.
A gasp escapes me when his fingertip ghosts over my swollen clit, Tucker letting out a quiet laugh.
My mouth drops open when he leans down and plants a featherlight kiss on the soaked material between my legs.
I remain gaping at him as he straightens up again, locking eyes.
I’m about to remember my manners and close my mouth when he surprises the shit out of me, sliding his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth.
His cheeks hollow as he sucks, moaning at the taste.
There’s a dramatic popping sound when he pulls his fingers from his mouth.
“You taste even better than I remember.”
The whimper that falls from my lips is ridiculously pathetic. So is the way my pussy clenches, desperate for contact despite the orgasm it received not even two minutes ago.
“Here, let me show you.” Tuck’s grin is devilish.
His lips descend on mine for the umpteenth time, but it somehow feels better every damn time.
His tongue slips along the seam of my lips, and I part for him immediately.
Our tongues tangle, and I taste myself. It’s sweet and salty, and reminds me of his taste.
I could drop to my knees right here in this booth and taste him again, see if my memory has served me well.
But I think I’ll save that for another day. Will there even be another day?
With one final peck, Tucker breaks the connection, momentarily halting my spiraling thoughts with a hand to my cheek. “We should probably get out of here. You never know who might show up, and in a small town like ours, the last thing we need is a chatty Kathy runnin’ their mouth about seein’ us.”
Us. There hasn’t been an ‘us’ for a long time, and fuck if I don’t miss the way it sounds. Miss being an us. Miss being his.
What have we just gotten ourselves into?
We don’t touch again—not as we leave the arena, nor during the drive back, nor when we say our goodbyes.
But that doesn’t stop me from ruminating on how it—touching, kissing—felt so right.
I know I shouldn’t have let it go that far, should’ve stopped before it became so intimate, but I don’t regret a single moment.
It doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything; Lord knows I’ve done far worse with far less meaning, and yet this does mean something.
I know it meant something to both of us when we were in that booth, kissing each other like it was the first and last time we’d ever touch.
What does this mean? Where do we go from here?