Page 29 of Chelsea’s Knight

I had just a feeling, deep seated inside of me, that he was important somehow, but the actual memories were missing for the first month or so of my recovery. Still, he showed up at the hospital daily, coming down from his own room to mine, and then he would drive out to the rehab facility every single day once he was released from the hospital.

Even if I had never regained my memories, he would still be part of my life because he worked to be there. Proving time and time again that he was willing to do whatever it took to make me see him… really see him and what we could be if I’d give in to my wants and not let the fears take hold.

During my musings, he has resettled us on the bed so we’re now lying down on our sides facing one another. His arm is around my waist while he waits for me to process everything.

“Even when I only knew you were important but not the reason behind it, you were still the first person I wanted to share good news with while I was healing,” I admit.

“That means more to me than I can adequately express, Chelsea,” he softly says before taking my lips in a kiss that’s gentle yet incendiary searing at the same time.

I realize, of course, in the history of kissing I’ve got so little experience comparatively speaking that I shouldn’t know the difference. Yet, with Canyon, I’m able to discern it. His lips are soft yet insistent against mine, the heat from his body drawing me to move closer, seeking out his warmth much like a moth does to a flame. The only difference in my case is I don’t think he’ll incinerate me, at least not intentionally, but what a way to go.

He deepens the kiss, and I instinctively writhe against him, desire now flicking at my senses as though he’s the power source and the switch has been flicked.

His low moan has me grinding my core against his pelvis, needing something to soothe the pulsing, insistent ache coursing and zinging through my system.

“Canyon,” I pant out when he pulls back slightly, his forehead leaning against mine as we both fight to catch our breath.

I know my eyes are wide and my face is flushed because I can feel the heat blossoming on my cheeks. I feel needy, achy, wanting, but I don’t really know what to ask for so I’m hoping he can figure it out and act on it.

“I’ve got you, sweetness,” he impulsively promises, his hands lightly stroking along my side along my ribs. “You still good, beautiful?”

“Mmhm,” I murmur, my attention zoned in and focused solely on his lips, already looking forward to the next blistering kiss.

“Chels,” he warns, “I’m trying to take things slow and make this experience special for you. However, those looks you’re giving me are not making it easy to do.”

“What looks?” I flirtatiously ask, trying to look innocent while batting my lashes.

“You know what looks I’m talking about, sweetness,” he smugly replies, kissing the tip of my nose, a complacent smirk on his face.

“Less talking, Canyon,” I plead, anxious yet excited to see where the feelings arcing through me are going to culminate.

He chuckles before slipping his hands beneath my pajama top, sliding the material up and over my head then tossing it arbitrarily to the side. I feel goosebumps raise along the exposed skin as my nipples pebble against his bare chest. He’s not overly hairy but the crisp feel of his chest hair has a moan slipping from me before I can stop myself even as I snuggle closer.

“It feels good to me too, sweetheart,” he says when he catches me sighing in unadulterated pleasure.

“I feel like I’m being lit on fire from the inside out,” I confess, looking up at him through bashful eyes.

“I won’t let you burn, Chels,” he promises. “I will always put out your flames after letting you heat up.”

As his face descends, he quickly kisses my puffy lips before moving down and along my jawline until he finds the spot at my shoulder that meets my clavicle and has me making a wanton sound I would’ve never expected to come from my mouth. He chuckles, the sound sending frissons of excitement through me because I can hear the promise of untold delights despite him not saying a single word.

“So fucking responsive,” he groans against my collar bone, his hands cupping beneath my breasts.

I’m pretty sure my heart is about to beat its way completely free from my chest at this point and can no longer string coherent words together once his lips enclose around one of my nipples.

As my back arches off the bed, shock, and overwhelming desire flares to life inside, causing my core to pulsate in tandem with my heartbeat. Want, need, and desire courses through me.

He continues to stoke the flames, going back and forth between each breast until both are plump and heavy weighted, my nipples standing erect, swollen, and sensitive from his constant, enraptured attention.

I feel like a broken record since all I can utter is his name, but he doesn’t seem to care, if the self-satisfied expression on his face is any indication.

Even though I want to do to him what he’s doing to me, every time I reach out to touch him, he moves slightly away from me and shakes his head. “There’ll be time for that later, sweetness. This is all for you.”

“But I want to,” I whine, sounding pitiful, like a two-year old throwing a tantrum.

He chuckles then replies, “You’ll get your chance soon enough, babe.”

Canyon

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