Page 22 of Cinnamon Strudel
“You’re ticklish,” she giggled, repeating the motion.
He snatched her right wrist and pinned it into the pillow above her head. “I am and you better stop it right now.”
“But it’s cute.” She attempted to tickle him with her left hand, only to have that one trapped as well a moment later.
“You are a piece of work.”
His lips crashed back down to hers, one of his hands restraining both her wrists. He deepened the kiss, his strong thighs straddling her own. Her body was on fire, Morgan’s weight filling a void she’d tried to ignore for far too long.
“And if you don’t stop grinding against me, you’ll find that you won’t get a second of sleep tonight.”
Morgan was right—she hadn’t realised that she was rocking her hips against him. “I’m sorry.”
Trailing his lips over her cheek, Morgan stopped at her ear and nipped his way down her neck. “How long has it been, darlin’?”
“Almost a year.”
“You must be so needy.”
“Please don’t mock me.”
His head snapped up, serious gaze locking onto hers. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m looking forward to fulfillingallof your needs.”
She lifted her head, seeking another kiss to hide the insecurity that dared to take over. She’d never felt confident in bed, and the fear of disappointing him almost had her running for the hills. But with a single kiss, Morgan swept all of those thoughts away, his unwavering dominance making it easy to follow his lead.
His thumb softly brushed over her wrist before he sat up and released her hands. He sat back on his heels, but kept her trapped beneath him. “The things I could do to you,” he husked, feathering light touches over her arms. “Just imagine being tied up and begging me to touch you.”
Her heart damn near stopped, heat rushing to her cheeks as he ran down her sides and grabbed her hips. “I’m not very good at that.” God, she sounded awful, nothing like the sexiness that oozed out of Morgan’s mouth.
“Begging?” His fingers slipped under her shirt, skin tingling with every exposed inch he explored. “Don’t you worry, I’ll teach you.”
“I’ve been told that I’m boring.” She wanted—no,needed—him to know. She didn’t want him to think she was selling herself as something she was clearly not.
“Oh, darlin’, I did tell you to listen, but that didn’t mean from a fucker who was foolish enough to let you go.” His hands pushed higher, fingertips lingering on the stretch marks that made her the most self-conscious. “There are no expectations, Ruby. Just two people figuring each other out.”
“You seem so confident. I’m just a mess.”
Deep, booming laughter echoed between them, rumbling through her limbs. “I have a few years on you. And let’s be honest, I’ll beall overteaching you.” His fingertips teased her ribs, his weight increasing pressure as he bent down, his next words ghosting against her lips. “You are in good hands, Ruby. I promise to take good care of you.”
She let out a long exhale, her hands finally moving from the pillow to lace behind his neck as she pleaded for another kiss. There was no hesitation and just like his promise, Morgan kissed her, soft and gentle. When their lips broke apart, her nerves were still on fire, a mixture of fear, excitement, and hunger.
“So tense,” he hummed. “Turn around.”
She needed no further instruction. Once she settled on her stomach, he rested across the backs of her thighs. His thumbs kneaded into her shoulders, the tightness in her muscles easing as he worked his way south. Once he landed on her waist, his fingers touched her bare skin and it felt so good that she wiggled her shirt higher.
His lips came down to caress each knot in her spine, voice edgy. “It is as if you read my mind.” Then he stilled. “Oh darlin’. What a pleasant surprise.” Looking over her shoulder, she watched as he inspected the snowflake and crystals inked into her skin between her shoulder blades. “It’s beautiful. Do you have more?”
“Only the one.”
“And of course it had to be winter themed.”
“I told you I’m a little crazy about ‘tis season.”
Morgan kissed the tattoo, then continued the massage. “And here I am, not even owning a Christmas tree.”
“I think we have to change that.”
“It’s a date.”
