Page 52 of Wrapped Up In You
I wanted to say he made me a better man, and that was true, but I thought maybe I did the same for him. And in that way, we were a perfect match.
If only we could find more time to spend together.
I walked in through the garage, treading softly due to the late hour. It was after midnight on a Monday, so it was quite possible he was asleep, though with it being Valentine’s Day, he might have tried to wait up. Still, I moved quietly, just to be safe.
I grabbed two forks from the kitchen and made my way into the living room, where a single lamp was shining next to the leather couch. Jonathan, bless him, was stretched out in his pajama pants, blanket half tossed over his legs, hands resting on his bare chest, fast asleep.
I set the takeout container and forks on the coffee table and knelt on the floor near his head, taking a moment to study him as he slept. After coming home from the cabin, he’d kept the beard, mostly because I’d threatened to leave him if he shaved it off. We both knew that was bullshit, but he’d kept it anyway because he liked to make me happy.
And I liked the way his beard felt against my thighs.
He kept the beard neat and tidy, of course, but that didn’t stop me from running my hands through his whiskers, savoring the feel of him against my skin. On an inhale, he nuzzled into my hand, making a contented sound, then lazily opened his eyes.
“Hey, you,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep. “What time is it?”
I looked at the clock on the mantel. “Twelve-fifteen. Sorry I woke you.” I bent and pressed my lips to his, lingering there a moment before pulling back.
“It’s okay. I wanted to see you.”
“Mmm.” I rubbed his nose with mine. “I wanted to see you too.” Unable to help myself, I laid my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sound and feel of it soothed my soul in a way nothing else could.
“How was your day?” His voice rumbled in his chest underneath my ear.
“Good. Exhausting, but good.” I’d worked the lunch shift at Olive & Vine so I could take a gig in the evening. Word had gotten around after my New Year’s Eve performance, and I’d been steadily playing in clubs and coffee houses ever since. Tonight’s gig had been a fun one, playing at the same club as I’d played on New Year’s Eve. It had been an anti-Valentine gig, and despite being hopelessly in love with my own Valentine, I’d had a blast playing breakup anthems for the single set.
Lucy stifled a yawn, and I sat up. “I brought you some leftover chocolate cake from Olive & Vine. You want some?”
“Now?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“It’s so late.” Oh, sweet Lucy. Always a stickler for the rules.
“Eh. We’re grown-ups. We can eat cake whenever we want.” I shot him a shit-eating grin, and he sat up, making room for me on the couch. I plopped down next to him and swung one of my legs over his, then fed him a bite of the decadent dessert. The sound he made went straight to my groin. “Moan like that again, and I’m going to have to skip this dessert in favor of something even better.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?” His eyes twinkled as he fed me a bite, and I moaned in pleasure. This was damn good cake.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, babe.”
He leaned over and kissed me, the chocolate and raspberry flavor on his tongue tangling with mine. Before long, the kiss turned desperate, the cake forgotten in favor of tasting each other instead.
I pulled away, grabbed his fork, set it alongside mine inside the plastic container, and returned it to the coffee table. Cake out of the way, I climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and grinding my erection into his while I licked a stripe from his ear down the column of his throat, then nibbled the hollow of his shoulder.
Things progressed quickly from there. Shoes were removed, and clothes were discarded—including my red heart briefs—as we hastily undressed each other in the middle of his living room. It had been two weeks since I’d had him inside me, and I was desperate for that unique sense of connection I only felt when he was buried balls deep, with eyes locked on mine, hips thrusting and grinding against me, while he took me apart, piece by piece.
I wanted that more than I wanted my next breath.
Hands and tongues roamed as we reacquainted ourselves with each other’s bodies. Two weeks might as well have been two years with the frantic way we nipped and bit and clawed at each other.
Somehow, we ended up on the floor with me straddling Lucy’s hips, our dicks leaking and making a mess between us as we kissed hungrily.
“Do you have lube down here?” I asked between kisses.
“I may have put some in the media cabinet after the last time we messed around down here.”
I retrieved the bottle and climbed back on top of him in record time. “Never in my life did I think I’d find being prepared so fucking hot. You’re a goddamn Boy Scout, Lucy.”
“I thoughtyouwere the Boy Scout of sex supplies?”
