Second Chance at the Riverview Inn (Riverview Inn)

She grabbed his face and pulled it to hers. Kissing him without any restraint or finesse. Just joy and need. Like they were discovering sex for the first time all over again. God, how long since he’d felt this way?

He kissed her shoulder. The tender bend of her elbow. He kissed the part of her waist where it tucked in just before flaring out over her hipbone. Her skirt had been pulled down a little, and he kissed the rise of flesh just under her belly button.

He grabbed her hand, kissed the knobby bone of that tantalizing wrist. The center of her palm. He licked her longest finger and pulled it into his mouth.

Her eyes flared and she arched against the bed. “You’re killing me, Micah.”

He pulled her fingers free of his mouth and bent to her breasts again. His beard was growing in and he knew that she was going to have beard rash on her skin in the morning, and he liked that idea. Liked it so much he pulled at the soft skin at the top of her breast into his mouth, hard enough to leave a mark.

“What are you doing?” She laughed. “We’re not teenagers.”

“You get a lot of hickeys when you were a teenager?” he asked, feeling like a teenager.

“What’s a lot?” she asked.

“More than one.”

“Then yes.”

He growled and got up on his knees over her hips and began kissing her breasts in earnest. Sloppy, sucking kisses that make her squeal and shriek and laugh, and he loved it so much he didn’t stop until she clapped a hand over his mouth. “Stop it,” she said. And he nodded.

She sighed, her hands back up in his hair. More kissing.

Kissing and kissing. Until all the laughter stopped and it was just the two of them, skin to skin. He made his way down her belly to the waist of that skirt.

“Micah,” she breathed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. God, no.”

He eased off the bed until he was on his knees between her spread legs. From this angle she was so…perfect. Like she was a queen. He hated that this angle was somehow reserved for porn. There should be way more art of women like this. Arms thrown over their heads, backs arched in pleasure. Skin flushed. Nipples red and dampened. Total feminine surrender and power.

A guitar lick ran through his head.

Fuck, he thought. That’s a first. A song idea while about to go down on a woman.

This woman. This goddamn woman…

Another guitar lick. He almost laughed with the sheer delight of it.

He pushed her skirt, which was twisted around her thighs, up to her waist. She wore black cotton underwear. And he realized they were the ones he’d bought this morning and fucking loved that. Some fierce Neanderthal in him wanted her to only wear`` the things he’d bought online for her, guessing at her size and worried about being presumptuous.

She spread her legs wider, giving him all the room he needed, then lifted up her hips, begging him to come closer. And so he put his mouth against her, over the cotton. She was damp and salty, soaking through the fabric. She moaned.

Yeah, he liked it, too.

Pushing the cotton aside, he came face-to-face with the pink of her. The sweet, delicious tang of her. She lifted her foot, planting it on the bed, and he slipped his arms around her hips, hauling her down the mattress closer to him. Closer to his mouth.

And then he kissed her. Licked her. Slipped his tongue between the fat pink folds. Found all of her; mapped a trail from her clit to the sweet entrance of her body. Found those places that made her shake and then worked them until they made her moan. Until she was holding his head against her, grinding herself into him. Crying out his name.

He slipped fingers inside of her. As many as she could take until he found that spot. The let’s-go spot. And her legs curled up and her body bowed back and the sound that came out of her was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

And then, in one long slow exhale, she reversed it. Her legs flopped wide like she had no bones. Her hands stroked his hair and then drifted to his shoulders. The keening cry of her orgasm shifted into a happy, contended sigh that also delighted him. He sat back, caught her eye and wiped his mouth, slick with her come.

“Josie said you’d be good at this,” she laughed.

Chapter Seventeen

Helen

Immediately she knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

I mean…so stupid. So totally stupid. And she clung to the idea that maybe he hadn’t heard her. Or that other women had said far more stupid things after he’d given them the kind of orgasm that didn’t happen every damn day and her stupid thing would be no big deal.