Madison’s laugh tickled his neck. “Almost?”
He couldn’t hold back his own smile. Sure, he’d just broken his one and only rule regarding his houseguest, but regret was a little hard to come by at the moment. Not with the orgasm-induced mother load of chemical contentment racing through his bloodstream, and her sassy voice in his ear, giving him shit for acting like a jerk about the damn laundry. Maybe his ego needed to take things at face value, but right now, he planned to roll with that.
“Almost,” he reiterated, and pulled them both to their feet. “I’m not completely easy, you know. When you violate my laundry, you have to work for forgiveness.”
She braced her hands on his chest for balance and smiled up at him. “Who would have guessed that under your nice guy facade beat the heart of a hard-ass—?”
He swept her into his arms.
“Hunter!”
“Shh. You’ll wake the baby. That would be inconvenient”—he carried her into his bedroom—“’cause you’ve still got groveling to do.”
“I do?”
Her question ended in a squeak when he tossed her onto his bed. Light from the hallway danced over her as she bounced once and then came up on her elbows and eyed him warily. “What kind of groveling did you have in mind?”
“This kind.” He planted a knee by her hip, leaned down, and kissed her. She reached up and buried her fingers in his hair, holding on. All the encouragement he needed. He coaxed her slick tongue into his mouth and offered her a preview of the wicked forms of forgiveness he could demand from every other slick part of her. Her soft sigh tasted like pure, unfiltered anticipation. He moved his lips over hers. At the same time, he brought his hands up her sides, closing in on the swells of her breasts. Just before his fingertips grazed the undersides, she shifted and wrapped her arm across the front of her body.
Denied.
Fine. They’d go about this from another angle. He leaned into the kiss and slowly lowered her to the pillow. When he had her fully reclined, he hitched a hand under her knee and slid his palm along the outside of her thigh. Her kisses turned increasingly frantic as he glided over the curve of her hip, but when he snagged his fingers under the waist of her leggings, she broke away and tried to sit up.
“Oh God. Don’t. Things might still be kind of crazy down there.”
“I’ll be careful.” Okay, you persuasive son-of-a-bitch. Be persuasive. He ran his teeth over her earlobe but kept his hand at her waist. “I specialize in careful. Trust me.”
She flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes. “I do. It’s just”—pink spread from her chest to her cheeks—“What if I’m not ready…”
“Really?” The hollow of her throat worked as she swallowed. He nuzzled the spot. “You seemed pretty ready a few minutes ago in the hall. Hell, girl, I’m still catching my breath over how ready you were.”
Those eyes opened and leveled on him. “Hunter, a woman would have to be dead not to feel a lick of lust at the sight of…all this.” She gestured in his general direction. “You’re a freaking work of art come to life. Me, on the other hand”—she turned the gesture on herself—“I’m in the worst shape of my life. My breasts are, well, they’re udders. They’re not the gravity-defying tits I had nine months ago, and they probably never will be again.” She flattened a hand against her barely rounded midsection. “This belly doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and my bikini zone hasn’t seen a razor in months. So trust me, there is not an ounce of sexy to be had here.”
Self-conscious. He’d known that about her from the start, but in his haste to make her feel as good as she’d made him feel, he’d forgotten. Shame on him. He braced himself on his arms and dug up a grin.
“Stop smirking at me. I’m serious. What is so blasted funny?”
“You are.”
“I’m glad you’re amused.” She shoved a hand against his chest. “Get off me.”
Knowing damn well he risked bodily harm, he leaned in and kissed her again. She stonewalled him for a second or two, but when he dragged his tongue along the stubborn line of her lips, she melted. He enjoyed that little victory for a moment and then eased back and let his gaze roam over her face, from the delicate arch of her forehead, to her wide-set eyes. The graceful slope of her small nose led him to the curvy cupid’s bow of her upper lip and ripe pout of her lower. Finally, he looked her square in the eye. “You don’t see what I see.”
Uncertainty crept in to her expression. “What do you see?”
“I see big eyes that turn summer-sky blue when you’re happy, and a storm-warning gray when you’re worried or pissed. And they go dark and smoky when you’re turned on.” He placed a kiss next to her right eye and then her left. “They’re dark and smoky right now.”
She licked her lips. “W-what else do you see?”
“Your sweet, expressive mouth. It’s like another mood gauge. But even when you’re frowning your stubborn, don’t-bullshit-me frown—yeah, that’s the one—I think about how that mouth feels on me. And after this evening, I’ll be thinking about it a whole lot more.”
He paused to drop a quick, hard kiss on said mouth and then moved down to her cleavage. “As for the breasts, well, Madison, I don’t know how you got so far in life without learning this fundamental truth, but I’m going to give it to you straight. Men like tits. Big, small, pale, tan, full, sloping…they’re all good.” He kissed the swell of one breast and then the other. And then he snuck his hand under the hem of her top and worked it up.
She gave hi
m the big-eyed look when he prepared to push it over her breasts. “What about swollen and sore?”
“I’m careful, remember?”