Page 49 of Tru Blue
“Knowing you have complete power over my limbs?”
“Absolutely.” He captured her mouth again, his hands moving over her ass, pressing her against his hard body. “I love when you get so worked up you need to hang on to me.”
He kissed her neck, and his scent wound around her again, lulling her into a euphoric state. “Tru…” She wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling his face closer. She pressed her cheek to his whiskerless face and her body shivered with the new, exciting feel of his hot, smooth skin.
“And I love when you say my name breathlessly. Every. Damn. Time.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, and she curled her fingers over his shoulders. “And when you touch me like that.”
Every kiss, every raspy word, every touch made her senses reel. Ever since they’d come back together, her heart had become an open door for him, and she couldn’t see it ever closing. She rubbed her cheek over his again. It was sensuously soft and titillatingly strong at once. Gazing into the eyes she’d begun seeing in her dreams, she said, “I loved your scruff. It grew on me and became as much a part of you as everything else about you. You didn’t have to shave for me.”
He shrugged humbly, but his smile told her how much he appreciated her words.
“I thought you might think it was more appropriate in case I come by your shop when you have customers.”
“Oh, Tru.” She pulled him into another kiss, deeply touched by his consideration. “I like you as you are—scruffy, clean-shaven, none of that matters. Seeing you like this totally blows me away, but I honestly don’t care what anyone else thinks.” She had a pang of guilt, because no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she knew her mother would give her hell, but she wasn’t about to let that impact her relationship with Truman.
“I’m glad you survived your pukey night. Was the little girl who got sick okay?”
“We won’t talk about that in detail, but yes. She’s fine. Too much punch and too many twirls on the red carpet did not sit well with the birthday girl, Princess Patty.” She touched his cheek again, marveling at his chiseled jawline, and noticed a fine white scar running parallel to his jaw. She kissed it and he bristled. Despite his reaction, she traced it with her fingertip, wanting him to know that whatever it was from wouldn’t scare her or make her run. “How…?”
“Prison,” he said softly.
Her heart ached at the thought of him being behind bars, and even worse at him being hurt while he was there, but she didn’t want to make him relive whatever caused that scar. He had much deeper scars. The kind that would never be visible. And she had faith that when he was ready, if he was ever ready to discuss those years, he would let her know. She pressed another kiss to the scar and then to his lips.
“I didn’t realize it was possible to miss a person as much as I missed you today,” she admitted as he led her toward the door.
He stopped short of going inside and slid his hands beneath her hair, cradling her face. “Me too. I was afraid to tell you how much I missed you. Afraid of being too much—”
“Tru.” Breathless. Always breathless. “I’ve never had enough. Please be too much. I need too much. I need you.”
They kissed with the greed of two people who have never had enough—and who were ready to give it all to each other.
They walked inside as they kissed. A floral scent hit her at the same time her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Candles danced on the countertops and coffee table. In the middle of the living room long gauzy sheets of colored fabric hung loosely from the rafters to the floor like an Arabian tent. Tiny white holiday lights sparkled along each panel, intertwined with ribbons of leafy green ivy. Her hand flew over her rapidly beating heart as he guided her forward, to the space where the gauzy panels parted. Beneath all that spectacular beauty, a red and white checked picnic blanket covered the floor. A children’s tea set, prepared with service for two, was spread out with candles and a single red rose alongside a carafe of wine and two wineglasses.
“Truman,” she whispered shakily.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted tea or preferred wine, so I went with both. And I hope the sheer fort is okay instead of a sheet fort.”
