Tacker (Arizona Vengeance #5)(64)

Raul is like her father.

She’s like his daughter.

I fully understand the stakes here and the depth of caring that goes on between these two people.

And yeah… I’m touched Raul said he liked me, too. It means a lot that I have his approval for Nora.





CHAPTER 27




Nora


“I can’t,” I moan as I move up and down on Tacker’s shaft. He fills me almost to the breaking point, where I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle the cataclysmic release cresting just over the horizon.

Tacker’s large hands grip me by the hips. With his biceps bulging, he helps me ride him a little faster.

“You can,” he grunts.

Pressing my palms into his chest, I toss my head back and close my eyes, feeling the fullness of him inside of me. How complete it makes me feel, yet it scares me at the same time because I’ve never felt this level of emotional fulfillment when having sex with a man before.

I’ve had relationships.

Serious relationships.

Or so I’d thought.

This, though… I really can’t even describe it. In all my years of counseling, observing people, and reading books about love and partnership, no one has ever described this type of feeling to me.

This almost undeniable fit as if we’re complex puzzle pieces that have joined solidly together, forming a whole.

Tingling starts in my lower back, spreading between my legs. I start to lose it. “I’m going to come, Tacker.”

He groans and bucks his hips upward, driving into me deep. His hand drifts, his thumb presses on my clit, and I shatter.

Purely shatter into a million little puzzle pieces he’ll help me put back together when I come down from this high.

“Fuck yes,” Tacker praises me, obviously feeling my body ripple around his cock. He drives his pelvis up again, digs his fingers into my hips hard, and groans out his release. Tiny little jerks of his hips as he orgasms make it even sweeter, as if he’s trying to gyrate out every last bit of feeling from what we just experienced.

I fall flat onto his chest, unable to even hold myself up. It’s amazing how I can be filled with so much satisfaction yet feel completely depleted at the same time.

Tacker’s hand settles on my back. He strokes me lightly as we pant and huff through the orgasmic aftershocks.

When we’ve quieted enough, when he’s clearly regained a little of his strength, he gently rolls me to the side. The slide of his cock leaving my body always feels like an important loss, but it’s what we do after.

Tacker exits the bed, disappearing into the bathroom to get rid of the condom. In moments, he’s back and sliding into bed. When I’m pulled into his embrace, my head goes to his shoulder, his arm coming around my back to hold me securely to him.

It’s at moments like this when we end up having our best talks. While not much remains of his walls these days, there’s something about the intimacy of sex that seems to obliterate any hesitations in transparency.

“Think we need to do a late-night check on Raul?” Tacker asks.

I feel a twinge of guilt I’m still stuck in the sweet post-cuddle feelings of amazing sex while Tacker is already thinking about Raul.

“Yeah,” I say. Because I do. While Raul said he felt better at dinner when I’d brought him soup, I was still worried. I saw him rubbing at his chest again. That, coupled with the sweating and nausea, had me gravely concerned about him having a heart attack.

At lunch today, I couldn’t afford to tiptoe around him or pull punches. I was too worried. I’d point blank said, “If this is your heart, we can’t mess around with that.”

Raul blew me off. Pointed out there’s no risk of heart disease in his family. He’s healthy as a horse, strong as an ox, and as mean as a burro. He assured me he had some heartburn and possibly a stomach bug, and that was all.

He’d actually convinced me then. Since he’d looked better at dinner, I let the nagging go.

But still… one last check. Pushing up slightly, I ask Tacker for my phone, which is on the table nearest him.

He hands it to me, so I shoot a quick text to Raul. How are you feeling?

It’s nearing ten, but Raul is normally a late-night person. I’m not surprised when he texts me right back. Good. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.

I send a heart emoji back.

“He okay?” Tacker asks.

“He says so,” I reply as I hand my phone back to him. “Says he’s ready to work tomorrow.”

I expect Tacker to deposit my phone on the table, then pull me into his arms. I know him—he’ll recharge and be ready to go again one more time at least before we go to sleep, and I’ll be ready.

But we always settle in deep and just hold each other for a while as we exchange murmured words.

Instead, Tacker rolls and comes over me, going into a complete straddle at my hips.

Holding my phone up, he taps something, then positions it in a way that makes it obvious he’s taking a photo of me.

“Stop,” I exclaim, covering my breasts with my hands as I laugh. “You pervert.”

Tacker rolls his eyes. “Keep your tits covered for all I care. It’s your face I want.”

Damn… that turns me into a puddle of goo.

My camera clicks as he takes several as I just lay there, half embarrassed at being so exposed.