Page 258 of Mine Again
For my sanity, I let my eyes roam every inch of her, scanning herbody for the smallest bruise, the faintest mark Hale might have left on her. Slowly, methodically, I circle her, examining her skin from every angle.
With each step, her breathing tightens, her chest rising and falling more heavily, her lips parting with the effort of holding back a sound.
Satisfied she’s unharmed except for the cuts and scratches I had already seen, I gather her into my arms. She clings to me instinctively, her cheek pressing against my shoulder, and I carry her into the bathroom.
I turn on the water and set her down beneath the spray. Steam curls between us, droplets racing over the curve of her neck, tracing every hollow and rise of her body.
I claim her mouth, slow at first, then deeper, greedier. My hands wander, mapping her, relearning her as if each touch could erase the endless ache of these last few days we were forced apart.
I linger at her waist, skim up to cup her breast, and trace the slope of her hip. She trembles, and the sound she makes against my lips almost undoes me.
I’d promised myself I would wait, that we’d rest first. We both really do need sleep. But with her pressed against me, skin slick and warm, that vow burns away.
My fingers slide lower, through her soaked center, and she jolts against me. A groan tears from my throat.
“Did me inspecting you make you this wet,farfalla?”
Her head tips back against the tile. “No… yes…”
I chuckle, my lips brushing her jaw. “Which one is it?”
Her eyes blaze when they meet mine.
“You,mio falco. You make me wet. Being with you. The way you look at me. Your touch… I can’t get enough.”
My promise to wait until morning shatters under the weight of her words.
I cannot.
Not when she’s here in my arms, alive, mine again.
The temptation is too great. Isa has always undone me.
I kiss her with more urgency, yet still take my time. Even with the water pouring over us, her scent cuts through, arousal laced with aching need. It deepens with every kiss, every slide of her tongue against mine, wrapping around me like incense.
I breathe her in like a dying man offered salvation.
This is not mere lust, not mere instinct. It is devotion.
I want to worship every breath of her, taste every heartbeat of her need. She is the air, the altar, the answer. And I will never stop wanting more.
Her skin is slick under my palms as I hitch her knee over my arm, her body arching into mine. The heat of her center presses against me, stealing what little control I have left.
“I love you, Isabella Caruso,” I whisper, pushing inside her, the need to be one with her overtaking everything else.
Water slides over us, her nails bite into my shoulders, and the sound that leaves her throat is the sweetest thing I have ever known.
I press her back into the cool tile, the heat between us burning hotter with every thrust. So much for taking her in a bed next time.
My forehead rests against hers, her lips parted on a broken moan. I move slowly at first, savoring the feel of her, the heat that envelops me, the pulse of her body clenching tight around mine.
Every second inside her is both a relief and a revelation, a reminder of what I almost lost and what I will never let go of.
She gasps my name like it’s a prayer, and I swear I will spend the rest of my life making her come just to hear it like that.
Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me deeper, urging me harder. Her breath comes in short, shaky bursts, her eyes fluttering shut as she gives herself over to me.
I kiss her throat, her jaw, her lips, worshiping every part of her as I drive into her. Her body trembles against mine, her cries breaking free as pleasure rips through her.
