Page 44 of (My Accidental) Killer Summer (Summers in Seaside)

forty-three

. . .

Elle

Noah’s tongue pushes into my mouth fierce, unrelenting, punishing in its pursuit to conquer mine.

His arms band around me like a steel cage.

On some level I know I’m not escaping them again.

But escape is not what I’m looking for. At least not in that way.

I want to escape the reality of my life, but not this. Not him.

This is the only thing right now that feels like it’s building me up instead of tearing me down. The intensity of his lips on mine is explosive and combustible. Hotter than anything I’ve come close to before.

He grabs my face in his hands. “I’m not leaving, Elle.”

Oh. So, we’re doing this now. Again.

“Okay,” I rasp.

“Not you, not the kids, not tonight, not Santa Luna,” he continues.

“Okay.” I nod shakily.

Wait.

“What do you mean not tonight?”

“You, the kids, our house, this life,” he says as if that explains it.

“Okay.” I don’t care what he means. I need him with an urgency I can’t fathom. “I need you, Noah, please.”

I tug at his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans and up around his neck so I can see his body and feel his skin.

Ridges of tanned corded muscle jumping at my touch as my hands roam the expanse of his chest and arms. I put my nose against his pecs and inhale, getting drunk on his scent - all man and soap and strength and sex.

With the sun just starting to peek on the horizon, there’s enough light to see his tattoos.

My fingers tingle with excitement as they brush over his bare skin.

Some are new, their meaning unknown to me.

But one remains the same.

The tattoo.

Small. Simple. Just over his heart, inked in that deep black that never quite fades. Set apart from all the others. My breath catches before I can stop it. Because I know exactly what it is.

Address

Our house number. The one we once shared. The one I still live in. The one he left.

“You never changed it,” I whisper.

He swallows hard. “Wasn’t planning to.”

My hands are still on him, but the ground doesn’t feel steady anymore. I’m shook on so many different levels.

“Why?” I whisper.

He cups my face with his hands and looks at me reverently. “It was never not you.” His words are simple, but their meaning feels layered.

I fight for control over my emotions. Wanting to cry over all we’ve lost in one breath and shout my love for him in another.

I curse myself as I feel the first tear slip down my cheek.

He kisses it away. “Fuck, Elle. Don’t cry baby. Please.”

“You left us.” My voice hitches.

“To save you.” He sounds tortured.

“You divorced me,” I accuse.

“I didn’t have a choice.” He smooths my hair back from my face and continues to kiss away my tears, breaking my heart all over again with the tenderness in his touch. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“There’s always a choice,” I say.

“Fuck, baby. You know what, I will tell you about it,” he says. “I will. Not here. Not now. But I will and everything will make sense. I promise.”

I search his face for any ounce of insincerity, but all I see there is regret. And pain. And longing. The emotions on his face match those in my heart.

“I love you more than anything in this world, Elle. I will do anything to protect you and the kids. Absolutely anything. Even if it kills me.”

I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve spent so long being so angry with him for choosing his career over his family. If my anger was all for nothing, it’s really going to piss me off.

He pulls me back to him and his lips return to mine in a punishing kiss. His tongue fighting with mine for control. Noah is a dominant lover. And I’m naturally subordinate to him in the bedroom. But tonight, it feels like all bets are off. There is no natural rhythm to fall back into.

Noah runs his down the column of my neck sending shivers down my spine.

I grab his face and pull it back to mine.

He groans against my open his mouth and his tongue seeks to conquer mine.

He sounds so raw and primal when he groans, I feel it everywhere, more between my legs.

Like it always was before, he barely has to touch me and I am ready for him, aching for him, my body dizzy with desire.

His hand slips down the front of my leggings and he cups my sex. The pressure is exquisite.

“Fuck, Noah.”

“Elle, God, I love how wet you are,” he says as his fingers slide inside me with no resistance.

He pushes them high, spreading them apart, getting all sides at once, it drives me crazy.

I’m so turned on right now, Doug could come back to life and spring out of that narrow grave, and I wouldn’t give a fuck.

Being back in Noah’s arms is better than anything I could have imagined.

Except, maybe being in his arms with his fingers inside me.

Noah’s lips leave mine again, to travel along my neck. Sucking and biting as he goes, harder the closer to my collar bone he gets. He’s going to leave a mark and I’m ready for it. Desperate for it. A low, throaty moan escapes me.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs in my ear.

“I’m so close,” I whimper.

“Have you been a good girl, Elle?”

I nod, frantic. Willing to do anything if he’ll just get me off.

His other hand works its way down the back of my pants and he slides another finger inside me from the other direction.

The front hand works my clit as his fingers fuck me.

The back hand rubs along my ass crack and fucks me from behind. It’s too much and not enough.

It’s exquisite. It’s torture. My body tightens. My muscles flex. My blood runs hot.

“Noah,” I cry. “Please!”

His fingers pull from my pussy and slap my clit, hard.

It’s more than I can bear. I explode, crying out his name, losing myself in sensory overload.

Adrift in a sea of emotion, with every nerve ending on high alert, every sense in tune with him and the way he can play my body like the finest instrument to be cherished and worshipped and adored.

He peppers kisses along my face and neck, whispering what a good girl I am as I come down from my release trying to regain my bearings and catch my breath.

Noah cradles me in his arms and strokes my hair, surrounding me with his scent and blanketing me in his warmth.

Fortifying me with his strength. I don’t know how I thought I could be without him.

Be without this. The connection that makes us stronger together.

The tether between our hearts that never broke no matter how far we stretched it.

I want to tell him how I feel. Shout it from the rooftops.

Announce it on billboards and have it written in the sky.

This beautiful, wonderful man deserves to get as well as he gives.

I snuggle into him and nuzzle his neck. Luxuriating in the moment, drunk on the bliss. There will never be another perfect moment like this again. New, yet the same. A reminder and a testament. I want to remember every second of it.

We stay like that as the sun comes up.

“Can we take this upstairs?” he asks.

“I thought you’d never ask,” I say.