Page 330 of All For You Duet

He’s never done this, invited my touch of his scar, encouraging me to keep my hand here. Like we won’t run from it, or deny it, or fear it. It doesn’t control us anymore.

Tipping my hips, rising to meet him, I want him now, but he mutters down my neck, “You’re not ready yet.”

“Yes, I am,” I sigh at his gentle bites.

“I want you wetter,” he says.

And he knows exactly how to grant that wish. His long strands mop down to between my thighs, and twice, his generous tongue makes me come before I grab at his broad shoulders.

“Redix, now.” I can’t stand the urge. I have to have him. It’s more than my body demanding him. It’s my entire life needing to wrap around him.

He holds my hand, lacing his fingers in mine. He won’t let go of it over my head while my other hand returns to his scar. To his ass flexing with his slow thrusts deep into my aching sex, and we’ve never been this close. We’ve never been this open and unafraid and sure. There’s no space where he’s not inside me.

His lips won’t leave mine, his body moving with mine; he’s my dream. He moves deep inside me, and this is all we are. Bodies and hearts and souls matched. This is us. Drawing breath together. I can love others so much, but I belong with only one person.

We could fuck hard, or we could fuck kinky and bad, and I know we will. For the rest of our lives, we can, but not tonight.

This is about our love surviving. This is about our life going on. This is about the dream we share.

And from this night on, we’ll never be apart again.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

“Damn.” Redix wraps around me. “Look at all the debris on the beach.”

A category one hurricane came ashore the day after Mama’s funeral. We knew it would, and I didn’t need an excuse to stay in bed holding Redix for two days while Hurricane Emma barreled through.

“I’ve seen worse.” I sip my coffee, leaning back into his body as we stand on my balcony and survey the damage.

It’s true. It’s not that bad—just a lot of limbs blown down from trees. At least we didn’t lose lives or electricity.

“I should go check our house,” he says. “We gotta lot of big trees to worry about.”

“Our house?”

“Yes.” He kisses my head. “Ours. And please finish ordering the furniture because I hate that shit. I don’t know what to pick.”

“You do know fashion.” I turn around in his arms. “But all your taste is in your mouth when it comes to interior design.”

“Hey, don’t be hating on my La-Z-Boy.”

“It’s not staying in the living room.”

“If you can lift it, you can put it wherever you like.”

“What the hell made you order one in yellow anyway? Of all colors.”

“I like it,” he says. “Yellow makes me happy.”

Yellow.

It lights through me. Not with a logical thought or a strong hunch. It’s like a prayer I swear my mama’s answering for me because she can now.

Pamela.

Yellow was her favorite color and the one she wore the night she went missing.

“Your boat.” I pull from his embrace. “We gotta go out on your boat this morning. I’m putting my drone up. That storm knocked down lots of branches and limbs. Maybe we can finally spot something.”