Page 46 of Healing You
He let loose with a sigh. “Don't remind me.” It was said under his breath, but Yvonne heard it all the same. “Never have I ever had sex in a public bathroom.” He eyed her carefully and Yvonne felt her cheeks warm as she lifted the glass to her lips and tipped back half of what was inside.
Steve's crystal blue eyes widened. “You've never been kissed on a boat, but you've fucked in a bathroom?”
She shrugged as he stood, moving to the sink and filling a glass of water. “It was college. I was in my wild stage.”
“Your wild stage began with me in high school and apparently lasted quite a while.” He chuckled, setting the glass of water down in front of her and taking his seat beside her on the couch once more. “But hey... you do you. On second thought, outsource that to me.” He leaned over her, his body deliciously heavy and hard. Taking her mouth in a ferocious kiss, his tongue slipped between her lips, urging them to open for him. She happily obliged, falling back onto the couch, her hands drifting to taut skin pulled over his flexed biceps. “Come to think of it,” he added, ending the kiss, his mouth lingering a breath away from hers, “you first kissed me over a month ago in the bathroom at Greico's. Our first time together in thirteen years was in the shower. Maybe you have a fetish?” He arched an eyebrow at her and Yvonne's giggle quickly morphed into a snort. Tingles raced down her arms as she let herself drift into a fog of tequila.
“Oh, God, I hope not!” she laughed. “A bathroom fetish? Ew.”
His grin widened. “Facts are facts, Eve.”
She flipped him over onto his back, straddling his hips. “Never have I ever been fucked on the back of a motorcycle,” she said, her eyes flicking to the garage door.
His smile sank, but only a fraction before he sat himself up, coming nose to nose with her. “That right there is a bold-faced lie, Sarzacki. We did it on my dad's bike several times in high school.”
She winked, grabbing the rest of her tequila shot and drinking it down. “I know.” She remembered parking that bike—it was so much easier to park inconspicuously than a car. Granted, there was no back seat to duck below the windows, but sitting there, Steve standing over her with her legs wrapped around her waist? She sighed. It was still some of the best sex she'd ever had. Well, up until about four weeks ago.
Steve leaned forward, grabbing his full glass, drinking his shot as well. “How about I make us some coffee?” He lifted her off of him, setting her gently back on the couch before getting up.
“It's almost midnight,” Yvonne said, looking at her phone.
“I'll make decaf.”
“And what good is that? Decaf anything is like a stripper who wears granny panties.”
Steve bent, curving his hand around her jaw and bringing her lips to his. “Well, what do you suggest we do to sober up?”
“I have a few ideas.”
“Any of those involve the back of my motorcycle?”
Yvonne didn't answer, but felt her lips curve into a wicked grin.
He kissed her once more, heading into the kitchen. “That's what I thought. I'll start the coffee.”
The next morning, sunlight dribbled into the dark room, sneaking in through a little sliver where Steve's curtains didn't quite meet. He'd never been a light sleeper until after the accident. Suddenly, every little noise would jolt him awake. And bright and early this Saturday morning, that exact little noise was the sound of Yvonne's quiet snore. She was sleeping on her side, her ass nestled against his growing erection, and Steve's arm was curled around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. Her blond hair fanned out across the pillow, its golden hue a stark contrast to the navy sheets, and as he peeked over the side, he could see her profile. Her eyelashes were a web of black against her cheeks and her plump lips were separated just enough to allow the shallow breaths in and out, her gorgeous breasts lifting gently with each one. It wasn't a loud snore. No, more like heavy breathing with the occasional sinus rattle. And it was cute as hell.
He gently lifted a hand and brushed her hair back, revealing a silky strip of skin at her neck, and pressed his mouth against the curve of her shoulder. She sighed quietly and with just the slightest wiggle, her ass pressed harder into his cock. His body responded appropriately and he let his kisses trail up her neck until he reached her ear. He sucked it into his mouth and nibbled it before tucking his hand under the sheet that concealed her naked body. He paused, taking a moment to admire how stunning she was. Her soft skin, smooth with luscious curves at her hips and breasts. He trailed a path from her shoulder down her back and over the curve of her ass as she let out a whimper.
He moved his gaze up her body, greedily taking her all in. The scar lining her spine stared right back at him, challenging him to run away. Challenging him to face what he'd done and not turn a blind eye to it. Yvonne wasn't the type of girl who hid her scars. She didn't purposefully try to protect the people around her from them. But she also didn't strut them around like a show pony either. She wore them quietly, but with confidence. A part of her personality that Steve so admired. One that he wished he could emulate. Then again, there was no way of hiding his scar. No makeup he could wear—no long sleeves to hide under. He was forced to face his life's biggest mistake in the mirror every day. Whereas Yvonne's was always behind her—at her back.
He dragged his knuckle down the scar and her whimper grew louder, more intentional. Her eyes, though still closed fluttered. She was stirring awake. Steve reached around, drawing a line down her abs until he landed between her legs. She responded immediately to his touch, her knees falling open, one leg draping over his body.
“Steve,” she moaned his name sleepily and as she rolled to face him, Steve took her mouth in a kiss.
“Shhh,” he said, keeping one hand between her legs. He dipped his finger inside of her, finding a pool of wetness. She was so wet for him already. Wet... and hot... and constricting in pulses around his finger. Steve's eyes closed, sighing, remembering, anticipating how perfectly she'd fit around his cock. Slowly, he pulled his finger out of her and slid it back over her swollen clit, circling gently.
She gasped his name just before Steve moved over top of her, gently rolling her onto her back. Palming one breast, he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the pebbled nub. The clean, slightly sunflowered scent of her skin sent his mind spiraling, spurring the desire he'd already woken with. How the hell did she manage to wake smelling like damn flowers when most people smelled like the manure in the soil? But that was just Eve. Naturally gorgeous… in looks, personality, and even in scent.
She writhed beneath him, panting, thrusting her body in his direction. Every now and then her sex would meet his, causing a burst of added arousal.
“You're so beautiful, Eve,” he murmured against her goose-pebbled skin. She slid her greedy hands over him, and her nails stroked the tensed muscles at his back until he was groaning right along with her, like some sort of choir singing in harmony. She linked her legs to his, trying to roll him over, but he caged his arms over her head. He was too strong for her, and he braced himself until she gave up.
But he should have known better than to think she was truly giving up. She was merely changing tactics. “It's my turn to taste you,” she whispered, her voice raspy with morning grogginess. Then, slowly, she ran that expert tongue of hers over her top lip.
“You don't play fair,” Steve whispered back. But in that playfulness, there was a moment of intensity. The heat in her gaze, the way he felt his pulse kick up as her lips lifted into a smile. What he felt for her just then was so powerful that it hurt. This is too fast, he thought. He was falling too hard and too fast for her—again. Just like in high school.
A wary look passed across her face as though she could read the change of thoughts within his expression. “Steve—”
