Melt (Steel Brothers Saga #4)(27)

“Thank God.” He thrust back in.

I let out a soft moan every time he slid back into me, and before I knew it, a climax was primed and ready to go. Just as I was about to start coming, he pulled out.

“You are beautiful right now. Glowing. Just gorgeous.” He stuck his dick back into my heat.

I grasped the comforter, balling my hands into fists around the fabric.

He fucked me hard and fast. The orgasm on the edge teetered over into full force.

I cried out. With passion and power, he fucked me, groaning my name.

“God, sweetheart, I’m going to come.” One last thrust, and he groaned, allowing his weight upon me.

I flattened on the bed, his weight too much for me to bear, but I didn’t care. I wanted him on top of me, close to me. I welcomed it.

Within a few seconds, he had rolled over onto his side. “Sorry about that. I know how heavy I am.”

I turned to face him. “No reason to be sorry. I wasn’t complaining.”

“Let me rest for a minute, and then I’m going to take my time. I’m going to savor every inch of skin and every drop of juice you have to offer.”

I swallowed audibly. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I didn’t have to, because he gently brushed his lips over mine.

“I hope I make you feel half as incredible as you make me feel,” he said. “My God, you’re amazing.” He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Soon his shallow breathing indicated he had fallen asleep. I looked at the clock. It was nearly six. I got up, went to the bathroom, put on a robe, and headed out to the kitchen. He’d be hungry when he woke up, probably for food. I smiled at my own joke. I looked through the cupboards and the refrigerator. Not a lot to work with, so I made a quick call to my favorite Thai place and pulled a bottle of lusty red Zinfandel off my wine rack. When he woke up, dinner would be waiting.





Chapter Thirteen





Jonah




I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. Melanie’s bedroom was decorated in burgundy and ivory, with dark wood accents—just feminine enough without being too froufrou for a man’s taste. Her bathroom was off to the left, so I went in to take care of business. I looked in the mirror and couldn’t help a chuckle. I looked well and thoroughly fucked. And damn, I felt good.

Back in the bedroom, the zesty aroma of chicken and peppers wafted toward me. I pulled on my jeans and walked out, my feet and chest bare.

Melanie was standing in the kitchen wearing a short, silky green robe. God, she had great legs—long, lean, and shapely.

I gave her a whistle.

She turned. “Are you hungry?”

“I am now. Something smells great.”

“Thai basil chicken,” she said. “But don’t get too used to it. It’s takeout.”

Don’t get too used to it. Did that mean I wouldn’t be here for meals? Or did it mean it was takeout, so don’t get used to it, because normally she would be cooking? Hell, it could mean either. Right now, all I cared about was doing a little carbo-loading so I could get her back in the sack.

“Whatever it is, it smells great.” I inhaled.

Her small table was set for two, and takeout containers sat on what appeared to be fine linen. She had class, this one. She’d poured two glasses of wine and set two goblets of water by two plain white china plates. Elegant and feminine without being overstated. I liked this woman.

A lot.

“Go ahead and sit down. Help yourself.”

“I’ll wait for you,” I said.

“I’m right behind you.” She turned off the faucet, drying her hands quickly on a kitchen towel, walked a few strides, and sat down across from me at the table.

“I have no idea what you like. I hope Thai is okay.”

“I like anything. We’re big eaters in my family.”

“I’m sure you probably prefer beef, since you’re a beef rancher.”

“I eat beef all the time, Melanie. Chicken is great. I love Thai.”

“Well”—she cleared her throat—“don’t be shy. Please, help yourself.”

“Ladies first. Give me your plate.”

She looked at me oddly as she handed it to me. Was she not used to chivalry? There was a lot I didn’t know about Melanie Carmichael. I aimed to find it all out.

I gave her a healthy portion of chicken, brown rice, and a spring roll and handed the plate back to her.

“Thank you,” she said, flushing.

Oh, how I loved to make this one blush. Those raspberry cheeks bloomed as fresh as a pink rose.

I quickly served myself and then picked up my glass of wine. “To us.”

She blushed again, more red than pink this time. “Us?”

“Sure, why not? I’m here, you’re here, we just had some amazing sex, and now we’re sitting down to a nice dinner. To us.”

She timidly raised her glass and murmured, “To us,” not quite looking me in the eye.

I took a sip of the wine. “Zinfandel?” I asked.

“Well, yeah.” She smiled. “It’s sitting right there on the table.”

“I haven’t looked at the bottle yet.” I pulled it toward me and turned it to read the label. “So I got it right. Ryan would be proud of me.”