Page 59 of Only for Love

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Grayson

Emma’s tongue runs along her pink, full lips. I remember them all over me. We had years of friendship but not nearly enough time after things heated up. We’re older. Wiser. With experience on our side. I need her and whatever she’ll give me because, eventually, it will be all of her again.

“Before, I should have taken better care of you. I promise I will now.” I guide her mouth to mine. Our lips touch. Good God, she’s so sweet. My tongue slides to her, making me groan when she opens for me.

Her hands wrap around my shoulders, and she repositions to straddle me on the couch. Our breaths are choppy. Her legs press against my sides, and the wound hurts where her knee digs in. I don’t care. The pain, the certainty of her riding my cock, makes my body hum.

“Missed you.” She’s kissing and biting.

Those damn teeth come out when I’m not expecting it. Her hips flex, rubbing the V of her legs against my erection. There’s something more sensual about how she moves now, something practiced. I’m intoxicated with her sway, her confidence, and I’m drunk on her kiss.

Emma pulls at my T-shirt. I break us apart and tear it over my head. Anything to give her free rein, to feel her—

“Oh my God, Grayson.”

My bandage. Reality check. Not sexy, not even in the least. Eight-by-eight inches of gauze and tape. It’s not even needed at this point, but it keeps my shirt from rubbing the fresh scar.

“Was I hurting you?”

“Didn’t notice.”

“Liar,” she whispers.

Her face has always been her tell. She’s changing, reacting. Memories bubble inside me, and I’m reminded of the night Pops walked in. Her face had changed then too. But then, it was… fear, disgust, humiliation? Now it’s… hell, I don’t know what it is. “Emma?”

She looks at my side then trails her eyes over my stomach, up my chest and arms, over the tattoos that weren’t there before, the bulk and definition I’ve put on over the years, and lands on my face. “Tell me the truth, you’re okay?”

“Baby,” I growl, “I can’t think of a single thing that’d keep me from sliding into you.”

Her mouth pops open. Three years have passed, and I guess no one’s said a dirty word to her. I’ll ease her into it, make her wet for it. Her high school crush is gone. I’ve been replaced by a broken soldier.

Emma’s mouth closes into a slight smile, and I know she likes it. Her gaze drops again and retraces the same path—bandage, abs, chest, and tattoos—finally landing on my lips. Carefully, she leans forward, as if she’s scared to hurt me, and brushes her lips against mine. Shivers roll down my back. Her kiss is light at first. Delicate. Caring. Then it’s stronger, trailing down my chin, down my neck. I groan and roll my hips.

Her tongue glides down to my collarbone, her teeth scratching.

“Christ, Emma.”

She slides off my lap, pushing between my knees. I can guess a million ways this could go, but there’s not a chance in hell that during our first time back together, she’ll end up with me in her mouth. This has to be unquestionably, unconditionally about her.

I expect her hands to land on my belt, but they don’t. She moves toward the bandage, kissing my skin, smoothing her fingers over the ripples in my abs.

Chastely, she places kisses on the edges of the bandage then looks up. “I mourned your death.”

My eyes sink shut. I hurt that she hurt. “Emma…”

“I never wanted you in pain.”

No. Not this conversation again. “Off your knees and in my lap. Come here.”

Half a second passes before I take her hand and tug her up. She settles against my hard-on and her arms rise above her head, locking me in a permissive gaze.

I slip her shirt over her head. Full breasts, creamy skin. “My beautiful girl.”

A blush hits her cheeks again. “I’ve always been yours.”

Shit. I’m done for, and I drop us to lie on the couch. Her hair spreads on the cushions, a blond halo for my angel, my savior. How did I let this go? I hold myself against her, stomach to stomach, chest to chest. I’m falling for her all over again.

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