Shifting Gears (Reynold's Restorations 3) - Page 50

Laughing, I drew her into my arms, holding her close. I wrapped my leg around her hip, pressing her into my pelvis, letting her feel me. “I can make you feel good,” I murmured into her ear, kissing her neck and enjoying the shiver that raced through her body. “I brought blankets. You, me, the flat bed of the truck under the stars, Shutterbug? You want that?”

She moaned low in her throat. “Yes.”

“I saw a deserted farmhouse about five miles back. Lots of empty fields for stargazing.”

She gripped my shirt, bringing me to her mouth. “Take me there, Brett. Show me the stars.”

I grinned against the softness of her lips. “My pleasure.”

The sky was an endless sea of inky blackness above us. The stars shone, their glow bright in the ebony. Lying on the blankets, I pointed out some constellations, tracing them with my finger for Kelly to see.

“The Big Dipper.” I moved my finger. “The Little Dipper.” I traced another in the air. “Orion.”

“I didn’t know you liked stars too.”

“My dad and I used to look at them together.”

“Have you ever seen a comet? Or a falling star?”

“Yes. Years before my mom died, we went on a family trip to Northern BC. I saw the northern lights. And the stars. My God, they were so clear, it was as if you could touch them. My mom could barely get us to come into the cabin at night. I saw several shooting stars and a comet. It was incredible.”

“Have you ever been to Iceland? I hear the lights are spectacular. And the stars.”

“No, I have always wanted to, though.”

Kelly lifted her head from my chest. “You have? You want to leave Littleburn?”

I smiled, tucking a strand of hair off her forehead. “Just because I love small-town living doesn’t mean I never want to travel.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You never asked. It’s like taking the bike out for a drive. I enjoy cruising along, but sometimes I like to change things up. I start shifting gears. Going faster and enjoying the rush. Then when I’m ready, I shift back, going slower again. You can’t stay at the same speed all the time.”

“I like that analogy.”

I chuckled. “It’s what I do. Mechanical analogies.”

She hummed. “Where would you like to go?”

I tucked my arm behind my head. “I would like to see parts of the world. Greece, Scotland, Iceland. More of Canada. The ruins in Mexico. The heat of Africa. There are lots of places I would like to go.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Someone to share it with,” I said quietly.

She stiffened, and I remained silent for a moment.

“Don’t you ever want a place to call home, Kelly?”

“I don’t really know what home means,” she admitted. “Growing up the way I did, I wouldn’t call my parents’ house a home. It was like a prison.”

I chose my words carefully. “Home is where you can be yourself. Find rest and sanctuary. Reconnect to a life that sustains you. Recharge so you can go out and have adventures again, knowing you have a place to return to.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I think, with the right person, it can be.”

She was silent. When she lifted her head, our eyes met. Hers contained questions, worries. Mine sent reassurance, silent promises.

I don’t want to be trapped.

I’ll never clip your wings.

I’m afraid to love.

I can’t live without you again.

I don’t want to lose you.

Tell me how to keep you.

I bowed my head, our mouths meeting in a soft kiss. Our lips moved, molding, fusing together. With a low groan, I gathered her closer, pulling her up my body until our chests pressed together, our thundering heartbeats echoing off each other. I tugged the extra blanket over her, wanting her safe and warm. Protected from the night air. We kissed endlessly. Differently from in the past. There was no frenzy, no dominance. There was passion, desire, and need. I explored every inch of her hot, sweet mouth. She did the same, our tongues seeking and stroking. I slid my hands under her shirt, running them over her softness. She straddled me, pulling her shirt over her head, her creamy skin standing out in the dark. I cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples, sat up and yanked my shirt over my head, then pulled her back to my mouth. We rocked slowly, her legs wrapped around my waist. We tugged and pulled until we were bare to each other, refusing to break our connection even for a moment. I knew her curves. My hands knew how her soft skin felt under their touch. My ears attuned to her whimpers and moans. My torso molded to hers, the roughness of my skin melding to her tender suppleness. I knew how she would feel wrapped around me, the heat and grip of her around my cock.

Yet it felt like the first time. I felt nuances I hadn’t noticed until now. How her breathing hitched when I rolled my hips into hers. The soft gasp as I nuzzled her neck, swirling my tongue on her skin. Her low moan as I cupped the back of her head, kissing her harder, needing her more than I needed my next breath. The way she gripped my shoulders, dug her blunt nails into my skin as I lifted her, easing my cock into her slowly, listening as she sighed when we were flush.

Tags: Melanie Moreland Reynold's Restorations Suspense
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