Page 79 of Rematch
“My present,” he said. “I get to unwrap it.”
Her face flushed a bright red, those dimples of hers appearing. Nothing Chelsea did was overtly sexual, and yet she was the most seductive temptress he’d ever met.
Lifting her shirt slowly, he savored every inch of skin he bared. He’d only just reached the bottom of her breasts when Chelsea’s hands flew up to cover herself.
“I forgot—” she started. She covered her waist, and he assumed she was worried about her weight. She’d mentioned that concern last year, and again the first time she visited his condo.
“Forgot what?” he prodded, when she clammed up, suddenly uneasy.
“Since Lennon was born, I have stretch marks.”
It was obvious she thought those marks were ugly, but knowing they were there did something to Preston he couldn’t quite understand.
He gently grasped her wrists. “Let me see.”
She closed her eyes and dropped her hands as he pulled her shirt off completely.
Just as she’d said, there were marks beside her stomach. Preston’s heart raced as his mind drew a picture he hadn’t considered before. “I wish I’d seen you when you were pregnant with him. God, I bet that was beautiful.”
Chelsea’s eyelids lifted, and she treated him to one of those expressions that said she thought he was off his rocker. “Imagine a beached whale and you’ll know what I looked like. My stomach was out to here.” She indicated a spot at least three feet away from her. “And my ankles were this big around.” Again, she gave him fisherman-sized proportions. “And I waddled like a duck the entire last month. I promise you, no part of me was sexy.”
If she was trying to turn him off, she was failing miserably, because at that very moment, Preston sent a wish out into the universe that he’d get to see what she was describing while carrying their second child…and hopefully third.
Gripping her hips, he guided her up, her ass lifting from his thighs so he could lean forward to kiss those marks. “I thought you were perfect before,” he whispered, his tongue tracing the lines of her stretchmarks. “But now, you’re a fucking work of art. Why would you try to hide something so amazing? These marks were drawn by you and Lennon, and I’ve never seen anything more gorgeous.”
She gave him a wobbly smile, her eyes glazed with shiny tears. “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”
“Because I know you, Chelsea. I feel like I’ve always known you.”
“I feel the same way.”
The time for words passed, and Preston finished unwrapping his gift. She wore a soft sports bra, but he wasn’t kidding about tit for tat, so he drew that off as well. By tacit agreement, their pants remained on.
Chelsea didn’t resist or demure, letting him look his fill as she did her own exploring, her fingers drawing patterns over his chest.
The next hour was an experiment in torture and bliss as they kissed, licked, nipped, and touched. He worshipped her breasts, now larger, her nipples even more sensitive.
Chelsea slid closer, pressing down on his covered cock, the two of them dry-humping like teenagers in the backseat of a car.
Then Preston twisted them, pushing her to her back as she wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming him between. The change in position—though nowhere near enough—had both of them groaning. He hadn’t intended to steal more than the kisses, but then the shirts had come off and his tenuous grip on control vanished.
Mostly.
Somehow, he managed to keep their pants on, aware if his hand slipped below the equator, he’d be powerless to stop.
Gyrating against her, Preston tried to find some semblance of relief, to no avail. His cock knew exactly how good it felt to be gloved by her pussy, and it wouldn’t settle for less.
“God,” Chelsea said, breathlessly. “Preston.”
He was just about to suggest they not only break but shatter the damn rule, when Lennon cried.
Chelsea jerked, wiggling out from beneath him, trying to calm herself. It took a minute, but somehow they both managed to tamp down their arousal. Then, she gave him a crooked grin that told him she hadn’t intended to let thing go so far as she pulled her shirt back on, and he responded to it with his own “oops” expression.
They both laughed breathlessly, rising when Lennon cried out again. Preston went to the kitchen for a bottle, while Chelsea walked down the hall to comfort their son.
When he arrived at the guest room, Chelsea was lying on the bed with Lennon tucked next to her. She gestured to the other side.
“You wanted to see the whole routine,” she reminded him. “This is it. I feed him in bed and then we spend the rest of the night sleeping together like this.”
