Page 119 of Protected from Malice
“Or,” I continue, “I could get gas another time. If you’re thinking…”
“Maybe?” Her eyebrows arch up. “If you want to?”
“Shit, Eden.” I draw her to me and kiss her again. “Do you even have to ask? I always want to make love to you. Always. I’d do it fifty times a day if I could.”
Her lips quirk. “Fifty? That seems like a lot.”
I arrange my features into an expression of mock offense. “Are you saying you don’t think I can manage it?”
Eden giggles. “Well. Youareforty. I think I remember learning in my human sexuality course that once men hit forty, they?—”
“Iknowyou’re not implying I’m old,” I interrupt. Then I scoop her into my arms and carry her towards the kitchen. As I walk, I ask, “Could an old man do this?”
“Probably not,” she admits with a laugh. “I don’t think most men could do this, period.”
Once we get into the kitchen, I set her on the island, then spread her legs and step between them. “Do you like it when I carry you around?”
Iknowshe does. She told me after the first time I did it that she’d always fantasized about me sweeping her into my arms and carrying her to the bedroom, like something out of a scene from a romance movie. So, of course, I do it as often as I can.
“You know I do,” Eden replies. “And you know I’m just teasing. I don’t think you’re old. At all.” She pauses. “Although, fifty times might be too much for me. My lady parts might go on strike.”
“On strike? We wouldn’t want that.”
“No. We wouldn’t…” Eden trails off as I lift her skirt and cup the heat hidden beneath it. The satiny fabric of her panties isdamp. As I trail my fingers across it, I can feel her opening for me. Inviting me in.
With my other hand, I palm her breast, flicking my thumb over her distended nipple. She gasps, and I lean in to swallow it. This time I take the lead, teasing her lips open and plunging inside.
Her hips jerk as I pull her panties off and slip one finger inside her. She’s wet. Hot. Silken soft. Her inner muscles quiver around me. She moans into my mouth.
As I add a second finger to the first, I say, “I thought this would keep your dress looking nice. Making love to you here.” I drag her to the edge of the island and adjust her skirt around her hips. “We’ll have to be fast. Is that okay with you?”
She squeezes my fingers; the same move that drives me absolutely crazy when I’m inside her. “Fast is okay.” Her gaze heats. “I like fast sometimes. It’s—oh.Oh.”
Eden’s head falls back as I curve my fingers to hit that magical spot. The spot she insisted was a physiological myth until I proved her wrong.
I unfasten my pants and yank down the zipper, freeing myself. I’m hard as a rock. Slick with arousal. Throbbing with need. While I love making love to Eden slowly, peeling off our clothes one piece at a time in a tantalizing tease, this is incredible, too.
Fuck. Making love to Eden is incredible no matter how and where it happens. Slow. Fast. In the bedroom. In the kitchen. In the shower, with the water sluicing down Eden’s perfect body and slicking her skin.
“Rafe.” She reaches between us and wraps her hand around me. “I really like this. In the kitchen, I mean. On the counter. It’s… I don’t know. I just like it. A lot.”
“Good.” I bend my head to kiss the sensitive skin at the base of her jaw. She arches towards me even as her head falls back even further. Her hips push against my fingers.
After everything that happened last month, I wasn’t sure when Eden would feel ready to make love again. So I tried to give her space. I held her, kissed her, but I didn’t evensuggestmore than that. I even talked to her counselor about it—on my own, of course—asking for suggestions about the best way to make sure Eden felt comfortable in that part of our relationship.
The counselor told me to give Eden time. Which, no shit. Obviously, I would.
But Eden put an end to that not a week after we returned. I was waiting for her to come to bed, just idly scrolling through my phone, when she walked out of the bathroom completely naked. Then she climbed into bed with me and announced, “I know you’re trying to be careful with me. And I love you for it. But I want to make love to you. I need to. So please, don’t worry you’re rushing me. You’re not. I promise.”
When she put it like that, I couldn’t say no.
I didn’t want to.
And to my relief, she was okay with it. Not triggered, not upset, not regretful. Afterwards—that first time after we got back, I mean—she curled up in my arms and told me, “That was perfect, Rafe. I missed making love to you. Let’s not wait that long again.”
Just like everything Eden wants, I’m happy to give it to her. And in this case, I’mmorethan happy to.
Eden wraps her legs around my waist. “I thought we were in a hurry,” she murmurs. “Right?”
