To hell with getting cerebral right now. Surely she could enjoy the physical nirvana of just lying with J.T. after bow many hours she'd dreamed about touching him, tasting him. "No, really. I'm okay. I wanted to make sure you're all right." She tickled his chin with a lock of her hair. "Let's stay here a while longer."
"How much longer?" He nipped the tip of her finger.
She wriggled until her knees landed on either side of his hips. "As long as you can last, flyboy."
"Now, what man could resist that challenge?" He cupped her br**sts while she rolled her h*ps until he throbbed hotter, harder against her. He lifted, shifted, guided her down.
So what if this was a reliable delay to their talk? It was an incredible way. And she would get around to doing the right thing soon enough.
Damn. She hadn't changed one bit in twenty-two years. She was still totally at the mercy of her body's craving for this man.
Right now she wanted to enjoy the shimmering sensations and connection and a blissful moment when she was absolutely certain they could work things out because they couldn't have something this perfect that wasn't meant to be. They couldn't deny this connection for the rest of their lonely lives.
Yes, she understood it was carnal and elemental, but this wasn't just sex. It was almost as if when reason, defenses, human foibles and stupid, stupid pride fell away, their souls recognized each other at the most simple level, so right. Mates. For life.
She wanted to believe they would make changes this time, but her wary heart couldn't escape a fearful sense brought on by years of experience with this man. That as soon as the sweat chilled on their sated bodies, they would hurt each other again.
Chapter 13
Morning sunlight streaked through the bedroom curtains, throwing lacy patterns on the walls. A familiar enough image for J.T., but one he hadn't experienced in nearly four months. Not in this room, with his wife curled against his side. Naked. Something he intended to enjoy for a few more minutes before life intruded.
J.T. stroked her arm, watching the digital clock blink away minutes. They'd never gotten around to a conversation the night before, and he couldn't say he regretted the delay.
He'd braced himself for the discussion, even to the point of planning where it should take place. At the kitchen table with a bowl of peach ice cream. He hoped the ice cream would remind her of happier times and soften her up before the tough talk.
Only, she'd faded into one of her pregnancy narcoleptic naps. He'd wrapped her in a quilt, scooped her up and carried her to bed. If he'd even considered sleeping elsewhere, she'd put an end to that with a groggy arm around his neck pulling him down to join her.
Fair enough. No need to ask him twice.
His gaze skated from her feet peeking out of the covers, along her curves draped in a sheet patterned with a thousand little flowers, up to the creamy skin of her shoulders and neck.
Damn, but her hair looked good on his pillow.
His hand explored her arm, along her hip. Sighing, she flipped onto her back, landing his hand square onto the tight curve of her belly. Shock stilled him. Longing held him there.
He'd been careful the night before not to touch her stomach. Only a bonehead wouldn't realize she had hang-ups about reconciling because of the baby after their shotgun wedding. Hell, maybe he had a few of those hang-ups himself—wondering if this was the only way to work himself into Rena's life.
But for now, while she slept, he allowed himself a moment to meet his new kid. He palmed the slight swell, turned onto his side until his face rested against the top of his wife's head while he rubbed a slow circle greeting.
Rena snuggled closer, still asleep and warm, mumbling stuff he couldn't make out.
He smiled into her hair. "It's okay, you have a while longer before you need to get up."
"Hmm. Good. So sleepy. Love you."
Sucker punched, J.T. couldn't move. She rolled to her other side, away, and clutched her pillow while her breathing resumed a steady snoozing rhythm.
She was probably stuck in some time-warp dream state from twenty years ago when she'd said those words all the time and he hadn't appreciated how much they meant. But did she mean them now and if so, how would he keep from hurting her this time, too?;Shh." He soothed with his mouth and hands. "Right now it can be."
Creamy skin. All for him. No barriers. He dipped his face to her breast.
She was right. This was so easy, losing himself in the taste, scent, feel of her. No roar in his head other than the blood charging through his veins.
And even as he touched her in every place he knew she enjoyed, even as she reciprocated, somehow it all felt new. As powerful, impulsive—reckless—as their first time.
Without the fumbling.
He stroked down her side, delved past damp lace to trace along her folds, dip two fingers into even damper heat that contracted around his touch. Her nipple grew even harder in his mouth as she moaned.