Page 40 of Entangled By You
I missed the way my name sounds from her lips when she’s drunk on lust and desperate for me.
“Say it, Lexi,” I demand.
“Please lick my pussy and make me come for you,” she begs.
I groan and my cock pulses, liking that idea, but it’s not what I want from her.
“Not that, baby. Tell me what I want to hear and you’ll geteverything.” The way my tone hangs on that last word gets my meaning across.
She tries to pull her legs away to sit and create some distance between us, but my fingers lock onto her supple thighs, refusing her the comfort.
“Come on, Princess. You and me. That’s how it was always meant to be.”
The shower pounds against my back. Thick steam billows from the ground, coating everything in a layer of humid heat. I’m dying here, overheating by the second, but it’s worth it to see the tear drop from her lash line and the soft nod of her head that follows.
“I want it.” It’s so quiet, muffled by the water splashing close to my ears. “I want you. I want the house and the family. I want us back, Pierce. I still love you.”
I let her legs slide off my shoulders, reaching for her cheeks and pulling her face a hairbreadth from mine. “I’ve always loved you, Lexi. Always.”
Our lips clash, a release from years of pent-up yearning to have her back in my arms washes into it. It didn’t matter how angry I got after she broke things off; my heart could never fully excavate her stamp there. It was branded—on my heart, on my soul.
Her tears flow freely, my thumbs brushing them away as quickly as they fall. I want to reassure her, but that would mean parting from her enough to take a breath.
Her hips scoot forward, rotating and seeking friction. Thisisn’t enough. The shower’s too small, too limiting to the pleasure I want to bring her.
I finally find the strength to pull away. Standing and shucking my clothes from my body at record speed. She sits transfixed, watching every moment until my hard cock bobs free. The piercing gleams in the light, my tip leaking for release.
“Bed, now.” I hold my hand out to help her from the bench and watch her supple ass sway, and she walks from the bathroom to the bed.
She freezes just a foot away from the mattress, not climbing on eagerly as I’d anticipated. My fingers trace up her damp skin, moving her soaked hair off her neck. I leave a path of soft kisses from her shoulder all the way to the shell of her ear.
“What is it?”
“I…” She stops, her hands moving forward to shield her changing body.
“Talk to me, Princess,” I coax, following her fingers’ journey to hold her against me.
“It’s just… I’m not… What if.” She can’t get out whatever’s got her choked up, but I have a feeling I know exactly what issue’s short-circuiting her mind.
Shifting her around to face me, my fingers grip her chin. The happy tears from the shower have brightened her icy blue eyes into a glacial stream.
“Heareveryword I’m about to say to you. You are beautiful. I have never wanted you more in my life than I do right now, Lexi. Anything other than that in your mind right now is a lie. I promise.”
She gives me a sharp nod and lets her body fall back on the mattress.
It might take me months, hell, maybe even years, to tattoomyself over all the scars he left on her psyche, but Iwill,even if it takes the rest of our lives.
She’s an angel on display. Her wet blonde hair spilling across the mattress. The curves and valleys of her body mine to explore. Something about the ample swell of her stomach whereourchild rests only heightens my need for her. I’ve never been the type of guy to look twice at a pregnant woman, but Lexi carrying mine stirs something primal in me.
“Pierce, you’re staring again.”
Her breathless observation pulls a smile to my face. It’s been doing that a lot more lately with her back in my life. I can’t help it. The staring. The smiling. She pushes the darkness that was starting to consume me away, inch by inch.
“Yeah, I was. Shoot me.” I shrug.
Her eyes roll, and she shakes her head, but it lightens the mood, and that’s what she needs to relax. I trace my fingers lightly up the inside of her bent leg, and still them against the small tattoo just above her bikini area.
The tiara is old and faded. The lines are a mess, and the image is squished, no bigger than a quarter. Stick and pokes don’t last the same way a professional tattoo does. But I still know the outline like the scars on the back of my hands, because I put it there.
