Kismet (Happy Endings 3)

“Oh God,” she gasps, arching against my touch.

I groan lasciviously against her hot, wet flesh, electrified as I’m kissing her like this.

Lust flares down my spine as I kiss and lick, suck and flick. I taste her, listening to her moans and murmurs, reading her body, the way she writhes and moves. How her fingers clutch at my hair, how she holds on to me. I’ve wanted this so badly, wanted to consume her, to know her. Every second with her is both everything I’ve craved and somehow ten thousand times better. It’s so much better than what’s unfurled in my head as she rocks against me, muttering words, panting obscenities, then making everything clear.

“I’m close, so close,” she gasps, like she’s hanging on by a thread as she chases the knife’s edge of desire.

Need pulses through my body as I give her everything she wants. And everything I need too—this incomparable intimacy.

One more sweep of my tongue, one more press of my lips, and she shudders, babbling incoherent bliss as she bucks against my mouth, clutches the back of my head, and pulls me against her as she crests with a delicious, sensual ohhh.

Her moans and groans don’t stop. They’re the most gorgeous song as they linger, the fading notes of satisfied sighs, of murmurs and gasps.

Soft fingers play with my hair, and my beautiful woman’s face registers only euphoria.

Pride thrums in me.

I did that.

I made her feel that way.

And I can’t wait to do it again.

I dust a kiss onto her inner thigh then her hip, then she reaches for my face, pulls me to her, and devours my lips.

Well, she’s as fearless in bed as she is out of it. Imagine that.

This time, she’s the one to break the kiss. The look in her eyes is wanton and hungry. I part my lips to tell her that I’ll get her there again. That I’ll take her over the cliff once more.

But before I can tell her all I want to do to her, she cups my cheeks in her soft hands and says, “I want to tell you something.”

I hope it’s that she’s on the pill. That we don’t need a condom. That would be fantastic.

“Tell me anything,” I say.

Her eyes stay with mine, her features go soft. “I’m in love with you.”

I both did and did not expect that. But now that she’s said it, I’m half frustrated I didn’t voice it first.

But I’m all elated.

I’m exhilarated by the feeling in my body. I want to wrap myself in those wonderful words and spend the night in them too.

“I’m so in love with you, Jo. You must know that. Tell me you know that.” My voice is desperate. No surprise. I want my feelings for her to be self-evident.

“I would never assume . . . I just hoped, Heath,” she says, running her thumb along my jaw, reverently.

Hope and bliss and wonder storm through me. “I’ve been falling for you since the night we met. I just can’t stop.”

“Don’t stop. I don’t want you to stop falling in love.”

“I won’t,” I say and scoop her into my arms, carry her to my bedroom.

“This is your favorite way, isn’t it? You like to carry me before you fuck me.”

She’s not wrong. I love the feel of her in my arms. “Yes. Makes you feel like mine.”

“I am yours.”

“You are.” When I set her on the bed, she undoes the buttons on her blouse in a flurry as I shed my shirt.

Her eagerness is a drug. This hit of it intoxicates me to another level, and I didn’t think I could get any higher.

But I do as I rake my gaze over her. She’s wearing a white lace bra and nothing else. “If I were a boudoir photographer, I’d take a photo of you right now. The glow on your face, the radiance of your skin, the blissed-out look in your eyes. They tell the story of your Sunday morning,” I say as I unbutton my jeans.

“And what is that tale, Heath?”

My clothes are off and I climb over her, naked and ready. “That you’re having a very good day.”

She laughs softly. “Every day with you is a good one.”

As I reach for her hands and lift them over her head, I brush my lips along her neck. “Mmm. You’re most definitely my favorite friend.” I tease her with the words we used to dance around all these love confessions, saying it without saying it.

Now, we’re free to voice everything. But she’s the one who says the most beautiful words of all. “I love you,” she says again. “Also, I’m on protection. And I’m clean if you want to go without.”

As I kiss the hollow of her throat, I groan, pleasure throbbing through me. “I do. I absolutely do.”