Page 38 of Blinded By Forever
“Every second.”
“Junior has a girlfriend and is taking on fighting like you. Easton has such a creative mind with his drawing and he’s doingreally good in New York. And River is growing up into someone I wish I could have been when I was her age.”
“I know, and I’m just thinking about how lucky I am that you didn’t give up on me.”
“You gave me reasons not to.”
He looks like he’s about to say something else but instead he just leans down and kisses me, slow at first, familiar, but it doesn’t stay soft for long.
His hands slide down my hips, pulling me tight against him. I gasp in his mouth and he takes that sound as permission to deepen the kiss. He pushes me gently back against the edge of the counter.
“Everyone’s asleep,” he mumbles against my mouth, voice low.
And still after more than twenty years of being together, he still can’t get enough of me.
Now that the kids are older and the boys are out of the house, he takes whatever chance he gets with me.
“Are you sure?” I ask, already breathless.
“Don’t care.”
He kisses me again, eager like we are still in our twenties, sneaking around and touching each other wherever we can.
He slides the dress straps from my shoulders slowly, too slowly, and he lets the dress fall to the floor.
“I should make you wait,” he murmurs. Dragging his fingers over every curve of my waist. “For every time we had to stop, every time I had to hear one of the kids yell at us like we were criminals for touching each other.”
I laugh breathlessly. “Then stop talking and take what you want already.”
His eyes darken.
I don’t even see it coming, just the way his mouth crashes into mine, tongue hot and possessive like he is claiming something that has always been his.
He picks me up and places me on the counter. His hands grip my thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he yanks me to the edge of the counter. This time he doesn’t hesitate.
“Every inch of you belongs to me and tonight I’m going to remind you exactly how much,” he growls.
I’m already soaked for him.
He knows it too. He slides a hand between my legs and presses his fingers against my clit, through the thin lace of my underwear. I gasp and buck into his hand.
“You’re shaking,” he says, his voice mixes with reverence and cocky satisfaction. “God, you’re so ready for me.”
“You’re cocky as ever,” I rasp. “That hasn’t aged a day.”
He smiles, teasingly. “Neither has this mouth.”
And then he drops to his knees.
Right there on the kitchen tile in front of the stove. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my underwear and tugs them down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You remember what I said the first time I fucked you?” he asks, his breath warm against my skin.
I barely choke out, “You said I was made for you.”
His mouth curves into a sinful smirk. “That’s still true.”
Then he buries his face between my legs.
My head slams against the cabinets as I cry out, my fingers digging into his hair like I could hold myself there. His tongue moves with expert precision, slow strokes followed by sharp flicks. His stubble scraping the inside of my thighs, grounding me in the best way.
