One More Night(41)

As their mouths fused and their bodies collided, she pictured the afternoon slinking away, scooting across the room, and tossing itself out the window. His touch helped erase those moments of fear, and shooed away her doubts, her worries, her guilt over the trouble that tattooed their life. She shed them all, let them fade away for a better moment. A truer moment.

This moment. Right here. Right now. With him. Where she felt safe, and right, and good.

“You,” she whispered, as she ran her hands across his soaking shirt, feeling the outline of his hard muscles through the wet fabric. Then his arms, where she traced his biceps, his steely forearms—those weapons that always seemed to come in handy to protect her. “You and me,” she added as they sealed their bodies tight, her naked, him clothed, and it didn’t matter. She roped her hands around his neck, and refused to stop kissing him. She craved more of him, of his stubbly jaw against her face, his lips devouring hers, his tongue tracing the inside of her lips. She needed his moans and sighs and murmurs as she wiggled closer and closer still, pressing all her nakedness against the sopping wet shirt and pants that couldn’t hide how much he wanted her. She rubbed her thigh against him, eliciting a groan.

The sound was sexy, but it was more than that. It was the sound of him wanting all of her. Not just her body, but her heart, her mind, and all the strings she came attached to. The ones that tethered her to a past that sometimes prowled back into their present and gripped them by their throats. He took her strings with no questions asked, just as he took her. She and her troubles were a package deal, and he’d signed up for all of it, undaunted by an ounce of it. “You,” she repeated when they came up for air, and somehow it was all she could say. Words were too much. She was overcome, and all she could do was feel this love, this future, this unconditional-ness with him.

He roamed her body with his strong hands, mapping her from her shoulders, down to her waist, to her hips. Then, he slid his hands over her butt, cupping her cheeks and somehow bringing her even closer. “You and me,” he murmured softly. “You and me. Always.”

He reached for the shampoo, squirting some in his hands. He lathered up her hair, massaged her scalp with strong fingers, then leaned her hair under the spray, rinsing out all the suds. He continued to make his way down her body, washing her all over, even her toes as he kneeled before her. Then he kissed his way up her bare, wet legs, caressing her calves with his lips, the back of her knees with his tongue, her thighs with a brush of his mouth. He rose higher, making sure her belly received the same love from his mouth, then her breasts, her neck and her lips once more.

“Thank you,” she said, looking into his deep brown eyes. He gazed at her with such love, such tenderness, that she nearly burst from all the feelings that had worked their way inside her, that inhabited her heart, her mind, and her body. All of her belonged to all of him. “Thank you for being with me.”

He nuzzled her neck. “No. Thank you for being mine.”

She helped him take off his soaked clothes, stripping him down to nothing, marveling at his beautiful nudity. “I’m the only one who ever gets to see you like this,” she whispered, feeling lucky once more.

“You are.”

Ten minutes later, she was dried off, lotioned up and naked, nestled in bed. He joined her, sliding under the covers and wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Clay?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind terribly if I just wanted you to hold me right now?”

“I wouldn’t mind that one bit,” he said, his deep, gravelly voice that she loved wafting over her and settling into her heart where he’d already staked his permanent claim.

“By the way, how did you get into that room?” she asked, curious even as she closed her eyes.

He laughed. “It’s kind of a funny story, but I used a Purple Snow Globe.”

It was her turn to laugh. “How on earth did you use a Purple Snow Globe?”

“I bought you a necklace with a purple drink on it, and I was going to give it to you today. Brent had it with him. In fact, that was Brent calling me earlier, not Gino. He was bringing me the necklace so I could give it to you as a surprise and I happened to have it in my pocket when I heard you scream.”

“Wow. You saved me with a Purple Snow Globe,” she said, amazement laced in her voice.

“Well, it was the clasp.”

“Oh no. Whenever we tell that story, we’re saying you picked the lock with a Purple Snow Globe.”

“Hey, Julia. Have I ever told you about the time I picked the lock with a Purple Snow Globe to rescue the love of my life?”