Page 80 of Long Time Coming

I’m not a crier. I had to learn to be tougher than any boy out on the ranch to avoid mistreatment, to hide my softer side to earn respect, and move on after my mom’s death like it didn’t hurt me. It destroyed me inside, but I held my chin high like she taught me and carried on doing what needed to get done.

Here, cuddled in Tagger’s warmth, I can be soft and vulnerable. I can cry because tears are for joy as much as they are for pain.

He presses his lips to my skin again, then takes a breath. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay. Happy.” I turn to look into his eyes, wanting to see the sage the morning brings before the jewel tone comes out in the sunshine. Touching his cheek, I reply, “I’m so happy with you.”

Lifting, he kisses my head, then rolls on top of me, anchoring his knees between my legs and spreading them. With our eyes locked together, I open myself up to him, and he pushes inside me. I lift to wrap my legs around his middle as he slowly moves in and out, deliberately easing in before teasing me by slowly pulling back.

The fullness is there, and so is the feeling that I’ll be left empty without him when we’re done. I hate it, but I love this so much more. His eyes study me like he’s memorizing everything that makes me tick. It’s not only making love, it’s the physical art of learning about each other.

I take a breath, briefly closing my eyes, and feel—experience instead of thinking so much.

He leans down and kisses me, our tongues dancing just as slowly as our bodies. The sensation deep in my belly always blooms too soon, the spark of electricity picking up speed as it travels my veins and pushes me closer to finishing. It’s all I want, yet it’s all I want to delay as well.

This is what I want for the rest of my life—this beautifully torturous purgatory—staring into eyes that reflect love back into mine, the gradual build, my desire taking on a life of its own, his hard length, unbending and driving into me over and over again. It’s too much all at once and never enough.

I will never get enough of him.

When Tagger shifts, he hits deeper, forcing me to breathe through the pain to reach the pleasure. He already knows what I need before I crave it. Wrapping my arms around him tighter, I hold on while he picks up speed, taking every thrust and pummel, tease and withdrawal, and then beg him for more. “Please don’t stop. Please.”

This feels too good.

He feels too much.

But I don’t want this to end, not ever. This physical connection gets under my skin and reaches into my heart, binding us together in pure bliss.Happiness.

“So good,” I purr, still holding on to him as if he can save me. “Oh God. Yes. Tagger.”

And when the spring uncoils, my breath is stolen by a kiss. As he swallows my moans, his body feels everywhere and all at once. A hand on my hip and another between my legs coax me to the edge. But it’s the brush of legs against mine, that divot in the sides of his ass, and his hard shoulders that have me feeling both turned on and protected at the same time.

I love our size difference. I don’t have to be strong with him, emotionally or physically. He’ll take care of all my needs. He’s already proven to be a man I can depend on—in and out of the bedroom.

My mind, body, and soul embrace this feeling, all of them.Wholly.

This is love in its purest form.

My head spins from the emotional strings attached to this man, my body spiraling toward a sensual end . . .and then darkness comes too fast and shrouds my thoughts. I sink into the mattress, lying still other than the rise and lowering of my chest. I just want to feel, to live here in this moment for a bit longer.

When I exhale, my breathing evens with his as he moves to my side and kisses my shoulder, back to how it all began. “I’m so in—” He stops himself, and the heaviness of the exhale has me turning to look at him. With his eyes still closed, he rubs his fingers across his forehead. A deal gone wrong. His puppy was stolen. Got a late notice from the electric company? Those reasons seem more fitting for his reaction than the aftermath of having sex with me.

“You’re soin what?”

His eyes are closed, his troubles clenching them shut. He finally opens them to see me watching him. “Nothing, babe. I’m just tired.”

I keep staring at him until I realize he’s not going to say more. If he wanted to tell me, he would. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce as if I must. Flipping the covers back, I climb out to slink into the en suite. I use the toilet, then wash my hands while catching a glimpse of my appearance in the mirror.

My skin looks washed out and in need of reviving. I’m used to the humidity and heat of Texas. It feels slightly drier here. It’s kind of BS that I’m not all glowy after having the best sex of my life with the man of my dreams multiple times over the past twelve hours, and the day has barely gotten started.

When I turn, my muscles ache between my legs.No surprise.He’s discovering new unchartered territory every time he goes exploring. Cracking the door open, I poke my head out. “Do you mind if I take a bath?”

He peeks his eyes open. “You don’t have to ask.”

I smile, though it feels more fake than genuine, and I don’t know why. “Thanks.” I close the door and run the water. After twisting my hair up, I take the soap from the shower because I like the smell. It’s not feminine or masculine. It’s just clean and fresh. Perks of being in a building—instant hot water. I wait forever for it to heat up at home. I’m going to be so spoiled I won’t be able to stand myself after this trip.

I pour the liquid shower wash under the running water, letting it bubble in the bath before I dip one foot and then the other. As soon as the water touches my inner thighs, I flinch, holding myself by the sides of the tub until I get used to it. I slowly lower my body under the water and lean my head back against the porcelain.

Running my hand over my body, I take careful inventory of each muscle that aches. I shouldn’t be so happy about something like pain, but I do find myself amused with the soreness I’m discovering, and I wouldn’t trade the activities that created the issue for anything.

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