Page 62 of Something Tangled Something True (Rosa Ranch #1)
“As long as that turns into massage oil and not a waxy mess, yes, absolutely,” I pant, which he meets with deep laughter.
“Tell me if it’s too hot,” he whispers, dripping the hot, silky wax between my breasts.
It stings, burning for only a moment before cooling to the perfect temperature.
He sets the candle on the nightstand, focusing every ounce of his attention on me.
His rough hands slide through the oil, kneading my breasts, flicking his thumbs over my nipples.
My back arches, desperate to deepen the way his strong fingers press into my skin. “This feel good?” he asks.
“Y-yes,” I whisper, the word getting caught in my throat as my muscles relax beneath him.
“Good. Now flip over,” he instructs, standing to allow me the room I need to lie face down, resting my cheek on my forearms.
“I promise I meant this as a nice cool down before I wash your hair and treat you how you deserve after sharing something so perfect with me,” he whispers, his tone soft, measured, and filled with respect for me.
“And now?” I ask breathlessly.
“And now”—he taps my ass and pussy with the length of his quickly hardening dick—“I have a little detour planned,” he answers, laughing deeply, the sound full-bodied and comforting.
“I want your knees bent, thighs spread wide, and ass up. I need to see that beautiful pussy while I take care of you.”
Without hesitation, I shift forward, bending my legs so my knees are tucked close to my elbows. His sharp inhale is all the satisfaction I need to maintain this position, but what he does next is enough to convince me to do anything he asks.
His hand glides down the slope of my spine, hot oil trickling from the top of my ass down the strip to my pussy, where he runs two fingers through the mixture of our cum and the warm oil, slipping them inside me, teasing me with a slow, steady pace.
“It’s safe for intercourse,” he says, my mind a hazy, blissed-out mess.
“Huh?” I ask, rocking against his hand, seeking out the pleasure his fingers provide.
“The oil, darlin’. It’s safe for sex. I didn’t want you to worry,” he answers, and while I know this sort of thing should be the bare minimum, my heart flutters all the same.
I’m not sure I know anyone who would think about something like that in the heat of the moment, truly taking care of every aspect of my needs.
As if reflecting my own thoughts, he says, “I have to make sure I take care of every single inch of my wife, especially her gorgeous cunt.”
“Mmm,” I moan. “And how can I take care of my husband’s pretty dick?” I ask, heat licking up my spine, tingles burning at the base as a contented ecstasy gathers in my core.
He releases a groan I feel inside me, my walls clenching around his fingers in approval.
He doesn’ t answer, but his fingers leave me, more oil coating my ass before his fingers knead my skin, spreading the oil around.
When he’s satisfied with a job well done, he swats me on the ass and presses a firm hand on the small of my back, lowering me into the mattress.
The tip of his fully engorged length notches at my entrance, swiping through my folds before he presses in slowly, inch by blissful inch. My neck arches, the backs of my thighs meeting the fronts of his as he fills me to the hilt.
“I’m honored to be here with you, Lola,” he tells me, filling the quiet silence of the room with heavy words spoken so low they shouldn’t rock my whole world.
“To have you all to myself, then to see the way your eyes light up, a permanent smile plastered on your face, when you’re with your family.
My heart aches with gratitude for the small moments and the monumental ones, knowing you’ve let me in and given me pieces of yourself. ”
His words have tears pricking the edges of my vision, my tongue too big in my mouth, unable to speak.
“And I intend to take care of absolutely any pieces you’ll let me. Not because I think you need to be cared for. No, you can do that all on your own. I want to give you everything you deserve and more,” he finishes, his movements slow and deliberate, rocking us gently toward release.
“You do make me feel cared for, Ry. More than anyone ever has,” I manage to say, fire burning me from the inside changing from pure lust to love. I guess this is what those sappy romance books meant when they called it “making love.”
He bends forward, pressing a soft kiss to my spine, whispering against my skin, “And I intend to keep it that way.”
He straightens, pouring more of the hot oil along my back, massaging the sore, stiff muscles. He digs his thumbs and knuckles into the tight knots in my shoulders where I carry all my stress, maintaining a smooth rhythm with his thrusts.
My body is pliant in his capable hands, and I’m unable to tell where I begin and Ryder ends as we come apart together. This time, there’s no rush as we ride the wave of euphoria, enjoying the gentle tingle of pleasure low in my core as I pulse around him.
He leans down and gathers my lax body in his arms, clutching me against his oil-slick chest, carrying me into the bathroom.
“Well, Mrs. Lima, I think we oughta get washed up so we can do it all over again.”
“I could go another round, Mr. Lima, ” I tease.
“Don’t play with me, Lola. I’ll go down to the courthouse tomorrow and ask for a name change if that’ll make you happy.
” His tone is serious as he settles me on my feet and reaches into the shower to turn the water on.
Steam billows around us a few moments later, cloaking us in a shroud of safety I haven’t felt in weeks.
Not since Lemmon Meringue decided to weasel her way into our lives, but she messed with the wrong woman.
I protect what’s mine, and Ryder Lockhart certainly is mine.
But after seeing the look of what I fear was genuine surprise on her face tonight, I’m worried I’ve gotten it all wrong.
“Hey, Ry,” I whisper, water dripping down my body, his callused fingers gliding over my hips as he lathers his eucalyptus body wash into my skin.
“Yes, darlin’?” He peers down at me, dark clumps of his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping into his eyes.
“What if we’re wrong and it hasn’t been Lemmon all along?”
His brows pinch, ocean eyes search my gaze. “What makes you think that, darlin’?”
I shake my head. “It’s just—” I glance down to where his hands are on me, gathering mine in his, our wedding bands glimmering beneath the bathroom lights.
He tugs one hand out of my grasp gently, pinching my chin between his forefinger and thumb to tilt my head back, and I find myself snared in his gaze.
“It’s just what?”
“She looked so shocked, Ry. And unless she’s been taking professional acting classes, I’m not sure it was all a ruse.”
He nods. “I trust your instincts, Lola. No matter what the truth is, we’ll figure it out.
” The fierceness with which he says those words settles some of the unease swirling in my gut, and rather than focus on all the ways my gut could have steered me wrong, I focus on Ryder, the man my heart has always led me back to.
After a long, well-deserved shower, we crawl into bed together, our bodies sated and clean.
Ryder twists my wet curls, setting them above my head on my pillow, and I just know I’ll regret sleeping with wet hair when I’m forced to tame it in the morning, but after the night's events, I just can't be bothered to diffuse. Although he did his best, detangling, raking leave-in conditioner from the mids to ends and even applying my gel afterward, like he’s seen me do so many times before, it won’t matter in the morning.
He leans in close and wraps an arm around my waist. “Will you please consider a security guard? For me?” he asks, his voice small, but it sounds so loud in the calm silence of our dark room.
The last thing I want is to feel like some mob princess with a price over my head, but I have a feeling Ryder’s mental health could really use this, so I agree. “Sure, Ry. We can look into a security guard.”
He lets out a relieved breath, his body sagging against me. “Thank you, darlin’.”
“Whatever you need, Ry,” I say, repeating a version of his earlier words to him.
He falls asleep quickly, but he doesn’t stay asleep.
A half hour passes as I stare at the ceiling, my lids growing heavy while I wait for the inevitable to happen. When I hear his whimpers and feel his body go rigid against me, I’m ready for it this time.
I roll over top of him, straddling his waist and hugging my body tightly against him, the same as I have every time panic threatens to strangle him in his sleep.
“It’s okay, Ry. It’s alright. I’ve got you. I’m here, and we’re safe,” I whisper the mantra over and over until his body stills, and I’m able to sleep.
That happens three more times before the sun rises.