Page 30 of Catching Our Moment

Shaw

I awoke to an empty bed. Peering around the room for her, I fell on my back and took in a deep breath of Kelcie-scented sheets mixed with the aroma of coffee and cinnamon wafting from the kitchen. My girl was making me cinnamon rolls.

As if conjured from my dreams, she peeked her head around the door frame. “Oh, shoot, I wanted to wake you.”

“Well, good morning to you too.” I leaned up on my elbows, the sheet dropping down, exposing my bare chest, and I watched as her eyes followed it.

Then it was her turn. She entered the room wearing a short silk robe, and her hair was piled up in a messy bun. She leaned casually against the doorway, coffee cup in hand. I was a dead man. If I didn’t get to touch her, explore her, make her mine…I would die.

“You’re not for real…” she said in a breathy, sexy voice. “You just can’t be for real.”

I cocked a finger at her and bit my bottom lip to stop all the dirty thoughts I had from ruining the moment.

She slowly glided over to the bed, placing the coffee mug on the dresser, then crawled up over my body, her robe opening with each movement and giving me an amazing view of her cleavage. I bit down harder and rolled onto my back, submitting to her every desire.

Her hand brushed my inner thigh as she traveled up my body, settling above me on all fours.

Her big brown eyes and twitching lips were playful but hesitant.

Was she nervous? I slowly touched her knee, tracing up her leg under her robe, feeling the softness of her thigh.

She closed her eyes as I ran it over the flat of her back and back down her round, firm backside.

I squeezed slightly, studying her expression.

“You are beyond my imagination.” With my other hand, I cupped her face and turned her to look at me.

“This right here. With you above me…” Even I could hear the tremble in my deep voice. “It’s everything I have ever wanted.”

Her eyes grew glassy, and I shifted my hand behind her neck, gently guiding her to my lips. With all the reverence I could manage, I breathed, “You are everything.”

This was my testament as I dove into exploring her lips. There wasn’t anything sweet, soft, or assessing about this kiss. It was want and need and desire. Her body fell against my chest as my other hand squeezed and pulled her down against my hardness.

She squirmed over my body, touching every inch of it. Our mouths shifted as we licked and nipped, tasting and wanting more.

Take a breath, man. There will only be one first time with her. Savor it. Slow the fuck down.

I turned her onto her back, wanting to take control.

Her robe had opened, the strap of her nightgown had fallen, and yep…

there was one of her breasts. The ones I’d fantasized about since I noticed breasts.

I glanced up, and her eyes darkened as I licked my bottom lip.

I slowly lowered myself and licked the peak of her nipple.

She bowed off the bed. I did it again, this time capturing it for a brief kiss, and she tried to take charge, pulling my head down firmly to her breast, demanding more than a tease.

She sat up briefly enough to take off the nightgown. So much for slowing down.

I lost all words.

I cupped her breast and gave it my full attention as she moaned, and her body writhed beneath me, rubbing up against parts of me that didn’t need encouragement.

Beep…Beep…Beep… “Crap. The cinnamon rolls.” She gave me a slight shove. The loss of contact was painful, but the sight of her slipping on my shirt had a different, more primal effect.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, trying to drag her back down before she playfully batted at me.

“Animal. They are in the oven. I need to get them out.” My shirt didn’t disguise the sway of her hips as she walked out of the room.

I ran my hands over my face and put them behind my head, propping myself up for her return. Probably good to fuel up—we’d need the sustenance.