Page 24 of Fighting Gravity

“Rosie.”

She smiled at the reverent way he spoke her name.

“Just touch me. Please. We’ll stop there.”

He only hesitated a second before a finger came to rest at the top of her spine. One by one, three other fingers joined, lined up to the nape of her neck. His other hand moved her hair out of the way. With the lightest possible touch, his fingers traveled down the bumps of her spine, fanning flames in their wake. She arched into him when he touched where her bra should be. When he came to rest at the small of her back, she tipped her face to his and kissed him. She couldn’t help herself.

He snapped backward, colliding with the bench seat. He sat with a groan, face in his hands.

“Tate, it’s okay. I trust you.”

He shook his head, eyes wild and hair mussed from her hands. “We have no idea what you’re going to remember. I can’t have even a shadow of suspicion in your mind when it comes to me. You mean too much.”

His words melted her like hers had frozen him earlier.

“Watch me,” she whispered. She took half-a-dozen steps backward without a hitch. To assure him further, she touched the tip of her nose with both index fingers.

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

She sauntered forward to straddle his lap, a bold move that would have been inconceivable hours earlier. The ups and downs of the evening made her appreciate Tate’s steadiness. And his sexiness? Well.

The night had not been perfect, but now it could be theirs.

Tate exhaled against her neck. “Rosie, please. I want us to have a chance.” He was losing his own battle of will. His arms were cradling her, his hands exploring her legs, her hair.

“This moment is our chance,” she replied. “Let’s rewrite the night.”

With a frustrated groan, his mouth was on her neck. His tongue connected with her pulse as Rosie whimpered. He kissed up her neck and across her jaw until his mouth hovered over hers. “You sure?”

She felt his words on her lips. Was she sure of her total sobriety? No. Was she sure how she felt about where the moment was heading?

“Absolutely.”

His tongue met hers, taking, giving. She leaned in, her hands tangled in his hair, her hips rocking against his of their own accord. The friction was a pleasure she wouldn’t withstand for long. And why should she have to?

Excitement shot up her spine. She broke the kiss, tipping her head to the side and slowly pulling the fabric of the romper away from her breast. Tate’s heated, hooded eyes lingered on hers before dropping lower.

“Tell me again you’re sure.”

“Please,” she begged.

Rosie cried out as her nipple disappeared into his mouth. Her nipples were nearly as sensitive as her clit. There had been times she’d almost come undone from that sensation alone.

Tate’s breath brushed her skin as she clutched his head to her chest and writhed against him. As if reading her desperate movements, his fingers slid past her shorts and came to rest on her panties.

“One more time,” he prompted.

Her “yes” barely made it past her lips.

“Baise moi,” he moaned as his fingers slid into soft, warm flesh. “You are going to kill me.”

She hissed when his thumb slid over her slick, swollen clit.

“Your perfect body is going to kill me. The desire to flip you on your back and fuck you until you scream is going to kill me. Your face as you come is going to kill me. Do I get to make you come, Rosie?”

Rosie’s gaze flicked between his lips and eyes as he talked, as his fingers worked her. She nodded. Who was the desperate one now? When he tucked her nipple into his teeth again, Rosie shattered. She fell through time, through space, tangled with Tate.

Before she even floated back down to earth, she was on her knees and pulling at his clothing. “The answer is yes, before you ask,” she told him.

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