Page 25 of To Her

His words sent heat flooding through me, settling low in my belly and between my thighs.

I arched up as his mouth travelled down my neck to the swell of my breasts above my bra.

His fingers slipped beneath me, finding the clasp with practiced ease, and then the lace was gone and his warm palms were cupping me.

"Perfect," he breathed, before taking one nipple into his mouth.

I gasped, my back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through me. His tongue circled the sensitive peak before he sucked gently, then more firmly as my reactions told him what I liked. His hand attended to my other breast, thumb brushing across the nipple in rhythm with his mouth.

When he switched sides, I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him to me. The dual sensation of his hot mouth and the cool air on my wet skin had me squirming beneath him.

Con took his time, lavishing attention on my breasts until I was panting and restless. Only then did his mouth begin to travel lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my ribcage, across my stomach, lingering at the sensitive spot just below my navel.

His hands slid down my sides to my hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of my underwear. He looked up at me, a question in his eyes.

"Yes," I whispered, lifting my hips to help him.

He slid the lace down my legs with agonizing slowness, his lips following the path of the fabric, kissing down one thigh and then up the other. By the time he tossed my underwear aside, I was trembling with anticipation.

Con settled between my legs, his broad shoulders gently pushing my thighs wider. The first touch of his mouth against my core made me cry out, my hands fisting in the sheets.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmured against me, the vibration of his words adding to the sensation.

His tongue explored me with the same thoroughness he'd shown the rest of my body, learning what made me gasp, what made me moan, what made my thighs tighten around his head. When he found the perfect spot, he focused there, alternating between firm strokes and gentle circles.

I felt myself climbing higher, the tension building with each pass of his tongue.

When he slid one finger inside me, then two, curling them forward to hit exactly the right spot while his mouth continued its relentless attention, I shattered.

Waves of pleasure crashed over me as I called out his name, my body arching off the bed.

Con stayed with me through every aftershock, gentling his touch but not stopping until I tugged weakly at his hair, oversensitive and boneless.

He kissed his way back up my body, taking his time, letting me recover. When he reached my mouth, I could taste myself on his lips, and it rekindled the fire inside me.

"Your turn," I said again, reaching for his shirt.

This time he let me, sitting back on his heels as I unbuttoned it and pushed it off his shoulders. My hands explored the broad expanse of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, the trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans.

I fumbled with his belt, suddenly impatient, and Con laughed softly, helping me. Together we rid him of his remaining clothes until he was gloriously naked above me.

"Condom?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of control.

I gestured toward the nightstand. "Top drawer."

He reached over, found what he needed, and rolled it on with practiced efficiency. Then he was settling between my thighs again, his weight supported on his forearms, his eyes locked on mine.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and the tenderness in his voice made my heart squeeze.

In answer, I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer until I could feel him pressing against my entrance.

Con kissed me deeply as he pushed forward, entering me with exquisite slowness. I gasped against his mouth as he filled me, the stretch and fullness overwhelming in the best way.

When he was fully seated, he paused, his forehead resting against mine, our breath mingling. "Okay?" he whispered.

"More than okay," I assured him, rolling my hips to urge him on.

He began to move, setting a languid pace that built the pleasure gradually. Each thrust was deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine, his mouth returning to mine again and again for deep, consuming kisses.

I ran my hands down his back, feeling the muscles flex and release with each movement. His skin was hot beneath my palms, a fine sheen of sweat making it slick.

"You feel incredible," Con murmured against my neck, his voice rough with restraint. "So perfect."

His words, combined with the steady rhythm of his hips and the way he was hitting just the right spot inside me, had me climbing toward another peak. I wrapped my legs tighter around him, changing the angle slightly, and gasped as the pleasure intensified.

Con sensed the change, one hand sliding between us to where we were joined, his thumb finding the bundle of nerves that would send me over the edge again. The dual stimulation was too much, and I came with a cry, my inner muscles clenching around him.

My release triggered his own. Con's rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming deeper, more urgent, before he stilled deep inside me with a groan, his face buried in my neck.

For several long moments, we lay tangled together, our hearts racing in tandem, our breathing gradually slowing. Con's weight was heavy on me, but I didn't want him to move, not yet. I wanted to hold onto this moment, this connection, for as long as possible.

Eventually, he shifted to the side, disposing of the condom before pulling me against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back as I nestled my head in the crook of his shoulder, feeling utterly content.

And afterward, as we lay tangled in the sheets, my head on his chest and his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back, I felt a peace I hadn't known in years. Maybe ever.

"You're quiet," Con said softly. "Having regrets?"

I propped myself up on an elbow to look at him, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in his question. "None," I assured him. "Just... processing."

"Processing what?"

I struggled to put it into words, this unfamiliar feeling of contentment, of rightness. "I'm not used to things working out," I said finally. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Con's expression softened. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle. "Not everything has to end badly, Geri."

"I know that. Logically, I know that. But..."

"But experience has taught you otherwise," he finished for me.

I nodded, grateful for his understanding.

"I can't promise we won't have problems," Con said, his eyes serious. "But I can promise I won't run at the first sign of trouble. I'm in this, Geri. All the way."

The sincerity in his voice made my throat tight. I wasn't used to this—to someone seeing my fears and meeting them head-on instead of using them against me or running from them.

"I'm trying to be in it too," I whispered. "It's just... hard sometimes."

"I know." He pulled me back down to him, his arms wrapping around me securely. "We'll figure it out together, okay? Day by day."

I nodded against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe me. Day by day. I could do that.

We fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other, and for once, I didn't dream of the past or worry about the future. I was simply present, in this moment, with this man who somehow saw through all my defences and wanted me anyway.

Morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through the curtains I'd forgotten to close. I blinked awake to find Con already up, sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on his jeans.

"Sneaking out?" I asked, my voice husky with sleep.

He turned, his face breaking into a smile that made my heart flip. "Never. Just didn't want to wake you. I've got an early shift."

"What time is it?"

"Six-thirty."

I groaned and buried my face in the pillow. "That's not morning. That's still night."

Con laughed and leaned over to press a kiss to my shoulder. "Some of us have to work for a living, princess."

I turned my head to glare at him, but there was no heat in it. "Call me princess again and see what happens."

"Noted." He stood and finished dressing, then sat back down beside me. "Dinner again tonight? My place this time? We have a pretty good staff kitchen.”

The casual invitation, the assumption that we'd want to spend another evening together, filled me with a warm glow. This was what normal people did, wasn't it? Made plans, spent time together, built something day by day.

"I'd like that," I said. "But fair warning, I have high standards. I've been spoiled by a certain chef who feeds me regularly."

"James?" Con asked with mock outrage. "I'll have you know I'm a much better cook than he is."

I laughed and pulled him down for a kiss. "Prove it."