Page 38 of Where the Roses Bloom

Rhett growled something that might’ve been my name and then I was on my back, his lips between my legs, hands spreading me wide. My panties were still on, but he didn't care; he licked me through them, thumbs gliding over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

“Fuck, Willow…” Those big hands came over the tops of my thighs, up my hips, fingers hooking in the waistband of my underwear. And when he pulled them down…it was like he couldn't resist finding my clit right away, wrapping his lips around it.

I arched. “Rhett!”

“Fuck yes, baby,” he groaned, tongue moving up and down. “Keep singing’ for me.”

I was already shaking. Already gone.

His mouth was hot, focused, hungry. He licked and sucked and moaned against me like I was his last meal and his first blessing.

My fingers clenched in the sheets. “Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Pleasedon’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he growled. “Not ‘til you come for me, Willow. Not ‘til I feel you fall apart on my fuckin’ tongue.”

It didn't take long. I shattered—right there with his mouth on me, his name on my lips, my thighs wrapped around his shoulders. He groaned like he could feel it in his bones, holding me through it, easing me down from the edge with slow kisses and reverent hands.

When I finally opened my eyes, he was braced over me—panting, flushed, eyes blazing with something more than lust. Something deeper.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing the hair back from my damp forehead.

I nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Better than okay.”

“Good,” he whispered, kissing my cheek, my jaw, the corner of my mouth. “Because I’m not done.”

He stood, scrambling to take off his jeans like it was physically painful not to be touching me. He slid down his pants and his boxers in one fluid motion, and my eyes fell to his hips.

His cock was thick, flushed, a bead of pre-cum at the tip…and he was huge. Bigger than my ex.

Bigger thananyof my exes.

My mouth went dry just looking at him.

“You sure?” he asked again, just once, thumb brushing my cheek.

I pulled him down and kissed him, slow and sure and full of everything I didn’t have words for yet.

“Yes,” I whispered against his lips. “Yes.”

He groaned like it hurt to hold back and reached between us as he knelt between my legs, dragging the thick head of his cock through my slick folds. I gasped, hips rising, wanting more.

“Easy,” he rasped, one hand settling on my hip. “Gotta go slow, sweetheart.”

And he did.

He pushed in inch by inch, watching my face the whole time, cursing under his breath when I clenched around him. He filled every corner of me, every place that had been insulted and neglected and used. For him…for him, this was worship. This was holy.

Before now, I'd never felt like my body was an altar.

With him, I did.

“Jesus…you feel like paradise, darlin’,” he groaned. “Can’t believe…can’t believe I waited this long…”

I whimpered, arching to meet him. “More.”

He buried himself to the hilt with a deep, trembling exhale. For a moment, we just stayed like that—connected, full, breathless.

Then the scent of roses washed over me…and my whole body seemed to curl around him, take him in. Rhett buried his face in the crook of my neck, peppering kisses down to my shoulder.