Chapter 13 Star
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
STAR
“Let’s get the little gremlin settled in so we can have our human dessert.” Tanner leads me into the living room, and I blink hard when I see a new fancy dog bed sitting in front of the fireplace.
It’s emerald, green velvet, tufted like an old Victorian couch, with “brUNO” stitched in gold thread across the front. There’s even a matching throw blanket. Tanner pours a few dog treats into a bowl and sets it next to the bed. “Bruno,” he calls, and my little demon dog comes running.
I stand in the doorway, laughing. “I can’t believe you bought him a doggie sofa.”
His lips twitch at the corners. “I figured he deserved the best if he was gonna be a regular house guest.”
Bruno spots the bed and sprints across the room, ears pinned back in turbo mode. He launches himself onto the velvet, does one and a half Olympic-level spins, then flops down in an ungodly position, back legs splayed, nose buried in the green velvet.
Tanner reaches for a remote and turns on Bruno’s favorite cartoon. Bruno’s head pops up, and his eyes bug out of his tiny skull. I’m pretty sure he’s found nirvana.
“Bruno’s entertainment for the evening.” Tanner winks at me, and I swear to God I feel my ovaries detonate.
My chest does a weird fluttery thing. Nobody has ever made me feel like this, not even close.
Tanner sidles up next to me, his hand finding the small of my back.
His touch is warm, confident, and a little possessive.
It makes my skin go tight and my legs go weak.
For a second, the world shrinks to the burn of his palm through my blouse and the way his thumb rubs lazy circles against my spine.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, because that’s all my brain can manage. “And perfect. And I think I’m a little bit obsessed with you.”
He grins, slow and sharp. “The feeling’s mutual, baby.
” He nuzzles the side of my neck and places a small kiss on my collarbone.
His hand glides from my lower back to my waist, fingers tightening until I’m flush against his chest. He leans in, mouth right by my ear, and the only thing I can feel is the press of his lips and the shivery heat of his breath.
“Dessert time,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise that makes every part of me stand at attention.
Before I can react, he bends and scoops me up in one effortless motion. I let out a sound that starts as a gasp and ends as a scandalized giggle. My arms snap around his neck on instinct.
He strides down the hallway, my body cradled against him, and I can’t help but burrow into the solid heat of his chest.
I drag my fingers through his hair, feeling the silky mess of it, and nuzzle behind his ear. He growls low in his throat, a rumble I can feel all the way through his chest, and it makes me want to do something reckless.
Tanner carries me to the bedroom and lowers me onto the mattress.
He towers over me for a second, gaze flicking from my face to my chest to my hips and back up again. “You’re fucking perfect,” he says, almost to himself.
I prop myself up on my elbows, all my smartass retorts evaporated by the fire in his eyes. “So are you,” I say, and mean it.
He kneels on the edge of the bed, his knees bracketing my thighs, and braces his hands on either side of my hips. For a long second, he just drinks me in, and it’s the most intense, vulnerable, gorgeous thing I’ve ever felt. Like he’s memorizing me, one blink at a time.
“I fell in love with you the first time I laid eyes on you,” he growls, shocking the hell out of me. Oh, wow. My heart pounds away in my chest as I realize I feel the same way.
My thoughts scatter when his mouth captures mine. The rest of the world drops away. Every touch, every slide of his tongue, is demanding and possessive and so sweet it almost hurts. I open to him, let him take whatever he wants, and lose myself in the rush.
When he pulls back, both of us are breathing hard. He looks down at me with that wild, hungry look, and I realize this is what it feels like to be truly, totally wanted and loved.
He runs his thumb over my cheek, so gentle it almost undoes me. He doesn’t rush. His fingers glide down, slow and greedy, tracing every inch of me. My whole body is a live wire, crackling under his hands.
He finds the edge of my sundress, palms hot on my thighs, and drags the hem up, up to my hips. I’m already shaking as I arch into him, desperate for more, for everything.
He slowly slides the sundress up my body. As the dress slips over my head and floats away, I’m bare to him except for my tiny, lacy pink bra and panties. Tanner’s eyes go molten.
“Fuck, baby,” he breathes. “You’re gorgeous.”
I dig my fingers into his biceps, needing something solid, and pull him down for a kiss. It’s messy and desperate and so hungry. Our hands get tangled up, his working on removing my bra while mine fumble to remove his shirt. I need to see him, feel him, match the exposed skin for skin.
He lets me push his shirt up and over his head. I touch him everywhere, my palms mapping out the wide chest, the narrow waist, the dusting of old scars, and one fresh scrape from ranch work. My heart skips at every new detail, at the reality of this man, flesh and blood and heat.
My mind shuts down when he leans over and his tongue circles one of my nipples. Then his teeth graze it just enough to make me arch up and clutch at his hair. He worships every inch of me, slow at first, savoring, like he wants to memorize the taste and texture of my skin.
My hands are greedy, tugging his jeans open, palming his ass, desperate to have all of him.
He groans against my tit, a filthy, needy sound that makes my thighs go slick.
He grinds against me, the press of his cock through his jeans so good I nearly lose it.
My hips roll, chasing the friction, and he curses, teeth sinking into the swell of my tit like he can’t help himself.
The rest of our clothes disappear in a flurry of hands and mouths and fevered laughter. By the time I’m naked and stretched out under him, my whole body is trembling, every nerve ending firing at once. He pauses, kneeling over me, and looks me up and down with a hunger that’s almost reverent.
“I’ve never wanted anything so bad,” he says, and I can hear the raw truth in his voice.
“Me neither.” I pull him down, and when he kisses me, it’s softer than I expect.
His hand cradles the back of my head, the other spreading my thighs, and he enters me with a slowness that nearly kills me.
I feel every inch, every pulse, every impossible stretch.
When he’s finally all the way in, we both gasp.
For a second, neither of us moves. Then I wrap my legs around him, dig my heels into the small of his back, and hold on for dear life.
He rocks into me, gentle at first, then with increasing urgency as our desire takes over.
We fall into a rhythm, his hips rolling, his mouth on my neck, my hands everywhere.
Every thrust sends sparks up my spine, and I’m babbling nonsense into his ear, words I don’t remember as soon as they leave my mouth.
He keeps his eyes open, watching my face, and every time I look back, it’s like he’s daring me to look away. I can’t. Not for a second.
When I come, it’s sudden and shattering, a white-hot burst that rips the air out of my lungs. “I love you,” I whisper as I clutch at him, nails digging into his shoulder blades.
“I fucking love you, too,” he growls and just keeps driving into me until he comes, too, hard and deep, collapsing over me with a groan that echoes off the walls around us.
We lie there, tangled up in sweat and sheets, my head on his chest and his arms wrapped so tight around me I doubt I could escape even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I want to stay here with him forever.
His hand draws lazy circles on my back, the touch so soothing and intimate I could cry. I listen to his heart slow from a wild gallop to a steady, contented thump. His lips find my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
The room is warm and quiet, a little pocket of peace I didn’t know I needed. The sheets are twisted around our bodies, and my hair is a disaster, but I feel beautiful. I feel loved. I feel like I belong.
That realization hits me hard. I’ve never belonged anywhere, not really.
My childhood was a parade of new cities, temporary friends, and the constant ache of never being enough.
Even in college, even in Austin, even with my yoga community, I always felt like I was standing just outside the window, watching other people have the life I wanted.
But here, wrapped up in this man’s arms, in his enormous bed, in his home, I feel wanted in a way that’s both terrifying and completely addictive.
I tilt my head up to look at him, and he’s already staring down, a slow, lazy smile on his face.
“What’s that look for?” he murmurs.
I should play it off, crack a joke, but I can’t. My guard is gone. “I’m just… happy,” I say, voice catching.
He pulls me up and kisses me, soft and slow, then tucks me back against his chest. “Me too, baby.”
As I drift toward sleep, I know this is just the beginning of us.