Beyond These Walls (The Walls Duet #2)(10)

“Some things just keep getting better,” she whispered.

“Lailah,” I warned, gripping her hips hard.

Smirking, she placed the tip of her pointer finger on her satin lips, and as her lips closed over it, sucking the remnants of sugar with gusto, the last shred of control I had snapped.

My hands tightened around her waist before lifting and turning to hoist her onto the counter.

“Temptress,” I growled. Not giving her a single second to respond, I slammed my lips on hers, demanding everything she’d just offered.

Food was forgotten as clothes were shed, and bodies were joined. Every thrust reminded me that I was the luckiest man alive. Every kiss told me I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and every moan that escaped her lips echoed my heart that beat solely for her.

Everything I had was hers, and I willingly gave it to her, over and over again.

“It’s a good thing no one is coming over.” She giggled, looking at the mess in our kitchen.

“Well, it would be an interesting story to explain.”

It was well past midnight, and somehow, we’d managed to send bowls, food, and flour flying in every direction. Our lovemaking had been dirty and intense, causing a serious delay to dinner plans.

“So . . . pizza?” I asked.

She moved about the kitchen in nothing but my T-shirt. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “You order, and I’ll attempt to make some sense of all of this.”

I dialed the number to our favorite place down the street, knowing they’d still be open, and I ordered a large with everything. I ran to the bedroom to grab an extra shirt and a pair of boxers that weren’t covered in flour.

Once I was quickly changed, I darted back to the kitchen to offer my help with the disaster we’d created.

Lailah had already made great strides, packaging up everything perishable and putting canisters back in the pantry. She had now moved on to cleaning the counters. I took the job of sweeping and picking up whatever random things had ended up on the floor. Each bowl or dish I grabbed reminded me of how she’d looked pressed against the counter and then slung over the barstool. No matter how many times I had her, it never seemed to be enough to snuff out my burning desire for her.

I could spend a lifetime loving her, and I’d never stop wanting more.

Within thirty minutes, we had the kitchen cleaned up, and we were lounging on the couch with slices of fresh pizza.

“Best Thanksgiving meal ever,” she said before taking a big bite from the crust of her second slice.

“Absolutely.”

Amid flickering candles and cheesy holiday music, we ate pizza and talked about our lives. It was one more memory of Lailah I could add to the growing pile I had stored away in my mind. Each and every one, I cherished like a precious gift, knowing that none of this would have ever been possible if it weren’t for that beautiful new heart beating inside her chest.

We finished eating and headed to bed, going through the nightly rituals couples do to prepare for sleep. Once teeth were brushed and Lailah removed her makeup, we settled into bed, pulling the down comforter up around us.

“Want to play a game?” I asked, cuddling into her.

“If that is a sexual innuendo, you’ve got to give me an hour or so. My heart might be new, but it’s not a machine.”

I chuckled softly. “No, I meant an actual game.”

“Like Monopoly?” she asked, her eyebrows rising with curiosity. “’Cause you know I’m terrible at that one.”

“No. I was thinking something a little less structured,” I offered.

“Good. I’m not sure my brain can handle much more at this hour.”

“Okay, roll over,” I instructed.

I laughed as I watched her suspiciously eye me, but she did as I’d asked and rolled onto her stomach.

“Oh, and take off your nightgown,” I added.

Her head popped up to look at me as I innocently waved my hands in front of me.

“Just trust me.”

She lifted slightly as the hem of her nightgown rose above her head and fell into a heap next to her.

Opening her nightstand beside the bed, I pulled out a bottle of sweet-smelling lotion she loved and dropped a dollop on my palm. Warming it a bit, I began smoothing it up and down her soft skin in deep circles.

“Not that I mind”—she nearly groaned—“but this doesn’t seem to be much of a game.”

“Just wait,” I said.

Using the tip of my finger, I traced a pattern across her skin. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” she answered, her head tilted toward me as she laid on her stomach.

“What did I just draw?”

“A heart,” she replied, a small smile appearing from the corner of her mouth. “Do something else,” she said.

This time, instead of a shape, I made letters turning into a word.

“Wife,” she whispered.

“Yes.” I bent down, kissing the bare skin of her shoulder.

She turned and pulled me close, our lips touching softly like two young lovers meeting for the first time.

She pulled back, enough to slide her hand down toward the hem of my T-shirt before lifting it over my head. Then, the tips of her fingers skimmed my sensitive skin as she traced along the hard ridges of my stomach. Her eyes never left mine as she wrote invisible words along my flesh.