Page 116 of Faking It Right
“You don’t have to clean me up,” he said, although he made no move to stop me.
I glanced up from my work to meet his eyes. “But I enjoy taking care of you.”
Something in my tone must have affected him because he fell silent, continuing to watch as I finished cleaning him up. When I was done, I tossed the washcloth toward the hamper in the corner and missed by a mile before stretching out beside him on the bed.
“So,” I prompted after a comfortable silence had stretched out long enough, “how do you feel now?”
He hid his face in the pillow with a pained groan. “Sexually satisfied, a little guilty I couldn’t give you a good blow job, but not as awful after hearing your shit show horror stories.”
I laughed, nuzzling the back of his neck. “For the record, that was the most entertaining sexual experience I’ve had in years.”
“Glad my humiliation could provide amusement,” he grumbled, though I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Not humiliation, snookums. Adorable determination.” I pressed a kiss to his temple, breathing in the scent of his hair. “The way your eyebrows scrunch together when you’re concentrating is cute as hell.”
He elbowed me in the ribs. “I wasn’t trying to be cute. I was trying to be sexy.”
“Mission accomplished on both counts.”
My fingers drew lazy patterns on his stomach as the playfulness of our banter faded into something deeper in our silence.
When I spoke, my voice sounded more serious than before. “Thank you.”
He snorted. “For what? The world’s worst blow job attempt?”
“For trying something new to make me feel good. That means more than technique ever could.”
He melted against me with a contented murmur. “You’re welcome.” After a pause, he added, “I’m going to figure it out eventually.”
“I believe you,” I said, settling back down beside him. “Your ambition is sexy, snookums. Even when it leads to near-asphyxiation.”
That earned me a full-bodied laugh, the kind that shook the bed and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. I loved that sound and being the one to draw it out of him. There was something magical about Ryker’s laughter that made the world feel brighter and more vibrant.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” he asked once his amusement had subsided.
I snickered. “Not a chance.”
When his amusement subsided, he gazed down at me with open affection. “I should thank you, too.”
I echoed his earlier question. “For what?”
“For making this easy,” he replied, gesturing vaguely between us. “For not making me feel weird about any of it.”
I reached up to cup his face, suddenly serious. “There’s nothing weird about exploring what feels good with someone who cares about you.”
He leaned down and gave me a sweet, lingering kiss that held more promise than passion.
“See? You’re already getting better at that part,” I told him.
“Practice makes perfect,” he quipped, settling down beside me with his head on my shoulder.
I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him close as contentment washed over me. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Chapter Twenty-One
RYKER
I emergedfrom the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, droplets of water clinging to my shoulders as I ran my fingers through my damp hair. Steam followed me into the bedroom like a personal cloud, dissipating as I crossed the threshold.
