Page 76 of Taking What's Ours

Now I just need to make him see that.

When we get to the house, I almost expect him to drop me off and go, but he shuts the truck down and heads inside with me.

“Don’t you have to go?” I ask.

“Waiting on another call first.”

He wanders into the living room and sits on the couch.

I sit next to him and study his face. He looks tired and sad, and I’m sure it took a lot out of him to take me to that grave.

I cup his face and turn it toward me. He meets my eyes.

I don’t say anything, because there are no words. I just want him to feel better, so I press my lips to his. It’s a gentle kiss, no pressure, no urgency, but he doesn’t push me away, and I take that as a win. Threading my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, I trail kisses across his jaw and down his neck.

His hand lifts, and I feel his palm stroke down my back. Soon his other hand cups my face.

Shifting, I move between his legs, going to my knees, and pop open the snaps on his flannel shirt. He’s got a thermal under it, and I drag the fabric up and trail another line of kisses across his abs, down to his jeans.

When my fingers fumble over his zipper, I’m half expecting him to stop me and push me away, but he doesn’t. I undo his jeans and his hard cock springs forth into my waiting hands. It’s long and thick, and there’s already a drop of precum on the crown.

I stroke him once, twice, then lower my head and take him into my mouth. He sucks in a gasp at the first contact, and when my eyes flick to his, he’s watching me intently.

His palm strokes my head as my mouth moves up and down until his shaft is slick.

“God, baby. You feel so good.”

His hips lift to meet me, and soon he’s cupping my face and fucking my mouth with a slow rhythm that sends a flash of desire through me, soaking my panties.

I want him. I want him more than I’ve wanted any other man.

Giving him pleasure right now is all I can think about. I want to drain every drop of stress from his body. I want to leave him in a relaxed heap, so drained he can’t move.

His breathing increases until its sawing in and out of his lips.

“I love the feel of your mouth on me.” His motions increase and soon his hips are lifting and thrusting in an unstoppable wave of desire. “So good. So fucking good.”

And then he goes still, and the streams of hot ejaculate jet down my throat.

“Take it all, baby. Take it all.”

I do. Every drop.

His head falls against the couch cushion as his labored breathing slows. He looks at me with sated eyes and a tender smile.

I press soft kisses along the warm skin of his stomach.

He drags me up his body for a kiss. “I push you away, but you want to know the hell of it? You don’t have a clue how much I need you.”

“Maybe I do,” I whisper.

The phone in his pocket rings, and he drops his head.

“Goddamn it.” Digging it out, he looks at the screen. “It’s the club. Sorry, I’ve got to take it.” He lifts me out of the way, zips his jeans, and strides onto the deck.

I get to my feet and head into the kitchen, stare at the bacon and grease congealed in the cold frying pan. I dump it in the trash, pop a slice of bread in the toaster, and check the clock on the wall. It’s 10 a.m.

Baja clomps through the house to his room. I hear what I think is that case under the bed being drug out and unlatched.