The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(40)

“Callipygian,” he said slowly.

“I was drunk, hence the hidden tattoo on my butt. It means—”

“It means you have a shapely ass. Alcohol makes you confident and a little vain.” He chuckled before biting it.

“Ouch!” I wriggled out of his grip and rolled onto my back. “How do you know that word?”

He guided my knees apart. “Because I have the same word tattooed on my ass.”

I giggled. “You do not.”

He dipped his head between my legs.

“Stop teasing me,” I pled my case with my hands claiming his hair as he tried to set up camp down there.

“Don’t hurry me.”

I smiled as his mouth made a lazy exploration up to my lips, making several stops along the way. He didn’t understand my rush because in his mind, he’d been waiting weeks for this. I’d been waiting years.

He seemed pretty proud of himself when he made a production of getting a condom from the unopened box.

“Wipe that grin off your face.” I rolled on top of him and pinned his arms next to his head.

Our mirrored smiles faded as I lowered my head and kissed him. He guided my hips over his erection.

I sat up just enough to let him push into me the whole way. Drunk on the feeling, I couldn’t move. I just wanted to stay in that exact position forever. I’d imagined that feeling so many times, and despite the other men I’d been with, there was no comparing them or anything I’d done with them to Fisher being inside of me.

Him sitting up and kissing me.

Him rolling us again and again.

Arms and legs tangling together with the sheets woven every which way.

The look in his eyes when he moved inside of me—so intense. His strong hands all over my body, laced with my fingers, and tangled in my hair as he kissed me.

The whispered promise of never forgetting that moment—so heartbreaking.

The focused expression and taut muscles in his jaw and face when he made sure I came before he did, but only by a few seconds. So many emotions flooded me in that moment.

I had never felt so vulnerable in my life, a permeating fear that I just gave him something so much greater than my virginity.

After long minutes of stillness with him collapsed on top of me and still inside of me, he rolled to the side. “My therapist is going to be really pissed off with me.”

I shifted toward him, finding my new favorite place—my naked body molded to his. My face in the crook of his neck, his in my hair, and his hand on my butt. “Why?” I asked.

“Because she told me to take a step back, to not get distracted by the physical part of my relationships.”

“I’d get a second opinion. Because in my humble opinion, we should do this again … maybe even a lot.”

Fisher chuckled. “I second that opinion.” Kissing my head, he moved to sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. You should join me.”

I sat up, hugging his back and teasing his earlobe with my teeth. “I’m going home. You distracted me with sex, but I wasn’t done telling the world about the birth I witnessed.”

He turned his head to look at me. “Are you saying the birth was more memorable than the sex?”

I hopped out of bed and dressed quickly. “I’m saying it’s my constitutional right to not answer your question.”

“You can’t plead the Fifth on this.” He grabbed his shorts and sauntered into the bathroom.

I slowed my hands as I hooked my bra, taking a few seconds to watch his callipygian figure. “Did you hear me say that birth was one in eighty thousand?”

Seconds later, he appeared around the corner in sweatpants and a tee, leaning against the wall, hands crossed over his chest.

“Tonight, you were one in a billion … times infinity. But if I didn’t live up to one in eighty thousand, then I think we’re done here.” Fisher didn’t even smile. He simply bowed his head.

“Tonight, you were one in a billion … times infinity.”

If Fisher didn’t pick me, fall eternally in love with me, if he got his memory back and it brought with it an unmatchable love for Angie, I knew I would be the one in therapy for the rest of my life.

“You’re right.” I squeezed past him, ignoring his pouty face, and grabbed my shirt from the bathroom floor. I shook the hair off it and pulled it over my head. “Angie has been giving you everything. She wants you to remember how you felt about her. And if I were wearing a diamond ring you gave to me, I’d probably be doing the same thing. Retelling our story to you a thousand times in a thousand different ways. But for me, it doesn’t matter if you loved me then, it only matters if you love me now.”

He turned.

“Just …” I whispered. “Love me today.”

I saw it in his eyes. And I thought he would say it, say something like “I’ll love you every day,” or “I’ll love you always.” And what woman in her right mind wouldn’t have wanted a man to say that to her?

Me.

So either I was the exception or I wasn’t in my right mind.

Fisher got lost. I got lost. And nobody could help me find my way. It was something I had to do myself. In my own way. In my own time.

I couldn’t ask for more from Fisher than I was willing to give myself. If that meant he had to risk losing me to find himself, then I would accept that.