“Sweetheart, you don’t want me to quit. I promise you.”
He kisses my lower thigh and his lips continue their long march, inching up to a spot that makes me start to shake. Each time his lips meet my skin, he drags his tongue across my inner thigh.
Apparently, floating means going much higher the second time with this man.
His tongue traces the crease between my thigh and pelvis before he looks at me. “Hey, I have a special assignment I need you to do.”
What?
“Right now?” I squeak.
“Yeah. Start counting how many times you float for me.” His tongue flicks against the little nub he tortured so sweetly last night, pushing against it and letting up.
How is he so good at this?
Oh, right.
Wardhole.
And that Wardhole’s tongue is velvet drenched in kerosene, a lit match striking my flesh, intent on leaving ashes in his wake.
God. I need more. I need him to—
His beard brushes my inner thigh as he moves against my folds, pausing to inhale my scent. He lifts my legs over his tense shoulders, securing them in place, making me a willing prisoner for his glorious mouth.
The next minutes are one hot mess of ecstasy.
Burning breath. Thundering desire. Tongue brushing everywhere, invading my folds, darting against this sweet spot that makes my toes curl.
And when he moves to my clit, pulling it between his teeth and lashing his tongue, just as I’m on the edge...
Gone.
I dig my nails into his leather sofa and push forward, riding his face, surrendering to the maniacal strokes rocketing me to nirvana.
“Ward!” His name is a ragged whisper before everything goes deliciously breathless.
I’m coming so hard I see stars.
Correction: I see Orion.
His kiss tickles me sometime later, bringing me out of my death-by-mouth. My body shudders as he sucks my clit one more time so tenderly, just before he looks up.
“Are you floating now, sweetheart?”
How do I even answer that? I don’t want to feed his colossal ego, but the confident smirk on his lips says it’s plenty well fed.
“God, yeah. That was otherworldly. You gave me everything I never knew I needed,” I whisper.
“Little liar,” he says with a deep laugh.
“Huh? No, it’s just—”
“You’re telling me you can’t float some more?” He doesn’t wait for my answer.
His tongue skims down my thigh again, moving back and forth across my opening.
Soft, quick strokes and teasing as hell.
I press a hand to my mouth, stifling a raw whimper.
Unbelievably, I’m ready for him again, like my body just up and decided it can’t ever have enough of Ward flipping Brandt.
My hands fly to his head, pulling him closer to my bare body, before I realize what I’ve done.
“Sorry.” I gasp.
I loosen my grip. My hand is still in his hair, but not demanding illicit favors.
He answers with his tongue sinking deep inside me.
His rough hand covers mine, threading my fingers with his.
“Oh. Oh, Ward.” I push my body toward him and pull his head to me.
His hands move to my thighs, pushing them apart. Then his tongue carries me away, over and over and over again.
My fingers curl in his hair, urging him on, bent to this storm of a man who’s upended my life.
“Ward....ah, Ward!” His name becomes my mantra as he delves into me faster, his hunger only deepening with every growl.
His tongue dips in and out, so fast it’s hypnotic.
I’m on the verge of tears, this state I can’t even describe, when he pushes me over the ledge.
Gasping, wrecked, and viciously sated, I tumble back against the couch with my legs still quaking and balanced on his shoulders, my hair crisscrossing my face.
I’m guessing I look like sex-addled roadkill.
But I feel divine.
He makes me feel like a goddess.
And he slides out from under me a second later, running his tongue over my lingering wetness on the biggest smile I’ve ever seen him wear.
“You floated, all right,” he whispers.
“To the moon and back,” I say with a muted sigh.
And for the next twenty minutes, every breath tastes like undiluted happiness as Ward sits down beside me, pulls me into his lap, and kisses me like the woman he’s been waiting for his entire life.
Even though I’m content, I shudder in his arms.
The stars aren’t supposed to shift so fast, so swiftly, and not for anything less than true love.
And I think I’ll need help from all the heavens when I realize just how badly I want to belong to Ward Brandt’s constellation—permanently—as he cradles me in his perfectly sculpted arms.
20
Messy Invitation (Ward)
Nick strolls into my office and doesn’t shut the door behind him.
“How are you, little brother?” I look up with a lazy smile.
He stops midstep, turns his face up, and slow blinks.
“Who the hell are you?”
My brows pull together. “Who else? The guy who spends his days breaking your balls.”
“I can’t remember the last time you asked me how I was. That’s not you,” he quips.