One to Leave (One to Hold 5)

As his thrusting became more violent, sparks flushed through my torso. My insides quaked and exploded with so much pleasure, my elbows bent. I would have collapsed if he hadn’t scooped me around the waist.

“Mariska.” His voice was a ragged groan at my neck as he leaned us forward on his forearms, pounding into me from behind. Four more quick thrusts, and he held me clutched in his arms, my back against his chest. I could feel his body tremble as his cock pulsed inside me. He finished with another low groan.

Sliding out, he turned me slowly so that I was facing him again, my back against the cool tiles. Large hands smoothed my hair from my face as his lips trailed kisses from my brow down to my temple. The softness of his touch followed by the scuff of his jaw teased my fading orgasm. At last our mouths reunited, and he kissed me as if taking a slow drink of water.

Leaving me with my head back against the wall, he looked deep in my eyes. “I can’t live without you. Please say you’ll forgive me for hurting you.”

My body was weak with pleasure and relief, but I reached for his face. “If you’ll forgive me for not being completely honest with you.”

He kissed me again, and my insides tightened with intense joy. We were back, he was back, and we were in that magical place I never wanted to leave.

“Those weeks apart, you never left my mind.” He kissed my cheek holding me against his body. “You changed me. I can’t leave you.”

The night I threatened to leave him crossed my mind. “We’ve closed the circle then.” His brow lined, and I continued. “I can’t leave you.”

“Come on.” He reached back and shut off the water. “I don’t know that we got very clean, but it’s the thought that counts.”

“All my thoughts were very dirty.”

“I hope you’ll tell me every one.”

I took the fluffy towel he held out, rubbing it over my hypersensitive body. The tips of my hair were now damp and not covered in blue.

“Hang on,” he said, eyes sparkling. I waited as he took the damp rag and rubbed it over my cheek. “Got a little green there.”

“I’m as much of a paint slinger as an artist, I guess.”

He scooped me into his arms again. “You’re an amazing artist.” A light kiss on my lips and he released me. “I love your work.”

Every word sent healing pulses of joy through my heart. This was heaven, and I never wanted to leave. “You have to tell me what happened to bring you here, but are you hungry? I could order takeout.”

His hands were on my waist again, thumbs circling against my skin. “Just as long as it can be delivered.”

* * *

We were surrounded by Thai food boxes, and the bottle of Chardonnay sat empty on my coffee table between two half-full glasses. He only wore his jeans, so his gorgeous lined torso was on full display. The sprinkling of light hair across the top of his chest made my mouth water, and his dark hair was messy bedhead. Every time his smoky hazel eyes met mine, a little surge of electricity moved under my skin.

I was dressed only in his Henley and my panties, but I’d taken my hair out of the high ponytail and fixed it in a low braid over my shoulder. Yes, I’d done it on purpose.

“You’re going to have to tell me at some point.” I took a sip of wine, and my eyes danced over the rim of the glass. Again, he looked as if I’d hit him with a sledgehammer.

“Have I ever told you what your eyes do to me?” His voice was controlled, level.

A little thrill surged low in my belly. “No, please do.”

He leaned forward and pulled me onto his lap in a straddle. I put my wine glass on the table.

“They’re the color of sunset in Montana.” My hands rested on his broad shoulders as I listened. “They remind me of the one place I can find peace. They make me believe you’re my peace.”

Moving my hands to his neck, I held him as I feathered kisses across his brow. “I want to be.”

With a groan he pulled me closer, burying his face in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held on.

He turned his head to the side and his voice was husky. “It happened to me.”

I was touching him, smoothing my hands over every part of his skin I could find. “What, baby?”

Lifting his chin, he looked up at me with troubled eyes. “I’ve had stress-dreams since the attack that sent me home. Explosions, fire, everything you described to me. Things you couldn’t have known.”