She laughed. Laughed? She totally hadn’t expected good old-fashioned giggles in the bedroom when she finally jumped back into sex again. How had Rick managed that? Another wonderful thing about this man. He had such an ease about him, no matter what life dealt.
He swept the comforter to the floor until they were left with only each other and a tangle of legs in a floral sheet. His legs stretched the length in running shorts, scars crisscrossing over around his ankles, running thick and corded up his right leg, thinner with more precision on his left knee.
All red and angry.
But that would fade with time, she reminded herself. She knew too well from experience. “You’ve had a rough year.”
His mouth tipped in a wry smile. “You could say that.”
“You’re even stronger than I realized when I saw you in the bar.”
“You have a way with words, lady. I’m not sure I agree, but thanks for saying so.”
“I have a way with the truth.” She rested her hands on his thighs, running her thumbs down steely muscles.
He rested his hands on top of hers. “You’ve done enough for me tonight. Now tell me what you want.”
What did she want? Total dark would be nice, to settle the nerves buzzing around like untrained newbie pilots in her stomach, but that was the coward’s way out. She needed to dive in. “Who’s going to be on top?”
“Is that an Abbot and Costello question?” Sliding his hands from hers, Rick lounged back against the headboard. He grinned that craggy smile that blew cobwebs out of corners with its sheer power.
“I’ve never met anyone besides you who brought humor into the bedroom.”
Not that she had that much experience beyond him, but sex with her husband had been such a serious business. And her mind was rambling away from her again to avoid the present.
Rick unfolded his hands from behind his head and gripped her waist, hefting her up. “How about we’re both on top?”
He settled her on his lap so she knelt.
“Comfy?” he asked.
“Perfect.” She adjusted her legs and leaned against him, chest to chest, the core of her nestling against his erection with tantalizing friction even through their clothing.
Gripping the hem of his brown T-shirt, she inched the worn fabric up and over his honed chest, a very familiar chest. This part of him she remembered well. She whipped the fabric over his head and flung it across the room.
Nola flattened her palms to the broad expanse of muscles. A sigh puffed from her mouth. His pecs twitched in response.
Her fingers fisted. “Okay, so now it’s the show mine time. Right?”
He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to hers. “Shh. Remember? There’s no timetable here.” He nipped her mouth. “No rush.” Kissed her again. “We can keep doing this.” Deepened the contact, tongues touching. “For as long as you want.”
His fingers tangled in her hair, he kissed her with a leisure she remembered from dating days, courting. Hmm.
“You can’t really mean we could just make out all night.”
“If that’s what you want.” His mouth continued to work over her skin while his hands explored.
“But I want more.”
“So do I. I want all of you.” He eased back to look at her again. “But if you’re not ready, then it’s not equal and I’m all about equality here.”
She rested her forehead against his. “What if I said I wanted to leave my tank top on?”
His exhale swirled between them and she wondered what she would do if he gave her an ultimatum. Except she also wondered how she would feel if he seemed grateful for the out. Oh my, there went those silver chains of emotion tangling up in her stomach again.
He slipped his hands just under the hem of her tank top, stroking along her midriff. “I realize we haven’t known each other long enough for you to have any reason to give me that level of trust, but I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed if you backed out on letting us come together, totally bare.”
Her breath hitched, she started to talk, but he pressed his mouth to hers to silence her.