Page 82 of Hold Me Tight

“Your body is so damn beautiful.” I trail kisses along the slope of her breast. “And it made Nora. That makes it a fucking miracle.”

She stills.

Just for a second, but it’s more than enough for me to feel.

I pause and look up at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes shimmer, but she doesn’t look away. “Zane didn’t think so,” she admits, the words so quiet, I almost don’t catch them. “He wasn’t attracted to me when I was pregnant.”

Her words grow so small that it very nearly guts me.

Rage rises in my chest, and I have to beat it down before cupping her face with both hands. I want her to not only hear what I’m about to say but feel it. “I thought you were so goddamn sexy when you were pregnant that it was impossible to think straight.”

Her eyes are wide and filled with uncertainty when they lift to mine.

“Do you have any idea how many days I had to stay away from you because I couldn’t stop picturing the way your body was changing? How many times I caught myself staring at the fullness of your breasts or the curve of your hips? I’d look at your stomach and think about how radiant you looked. I’m not even going to tell you how many times I got myself off thinking about your beautiful body.”

The blush that rises to her cheeks only makes her more stunning.

“I’m not even embarrassed,” I add with a huff of dry laughter. “Okay, maybe a little. It was an alarming number. Zane’s a fucking idiot. He didn’t deserve you or your daughter. Not then, not now, not ever.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to deflect or argue, but I don’t let her.

“No.” I brush my thumbs across her cheekbones. “Don’t you dare speak his name right now. Not here. Not when you’re with me. If you’re still thinking about him, then I’m not doing a good enough job keeping you focused on me.”

Color creeps down her neck before spreading across her chest in a flush I want to chase with my mouth. My hands trail down her body, kneading the swell of her breasts, tracing the delicate line of her waist and curve of her hips. I lift her just enough for her to understand what I’m asking. She shifts forward until her thighs bracket my head and her pussy is poised inches above my mouth before lowering herself. The second her warmth presses against my tongue, I lose all sense of time or space.

Of anything but this woman.

She tastes like heaven. I groan against her, wrapping my arms around her thighs and pulling her even closer.

The sound of her moan is enough to leave me reeling.

“You have no idea,” I say between strokes of my tongue, “how long I’ve wanted to do this. How many nights I wondered what you’d taste like.”

I work her slowly at first, teasing her lips, flicking her clit before circling deeper, letting the pressure build. Her fingers dig into the headboard above me, anchoring herself as her hips start to move and she unravels one shiver at a time.

It only makes me realize how damn hungry I am for her.

For all of it.

For everything she’s willing to give.

I bury my face between her supple thighs. Her honeyed scent, her warmth, the sound of her falling apart above me, it all consumes me. Gripping her hips, I angle her just right and let my tongue worship her delicate flesh.

This isn’t about getting her off.

It’s about showing her what it feels like to be adored.

To be wanted.

To be cherished in the way she should have always been.

“You taste so fucking good,” I murmur against her slick heat. “I could happily stay here all day.”

My name comes out on a throaty moan, and it sounds very much like surrender.

I slide one hand around to the small of her back, holding her steady. My mouth is unrelenting. Gentle, then firm. I want her to fall apart and know without question she’s safe in my arms.