Mile High (Up in the Air #2)(43)

He stiffened up at that. “What took him so f**king long to react? That’s what I want to know.”

I kissed the center of his chest, right in that little indent between his well muscled pectorals. I loved that spot.

I filled my palm with shampoo, reaching up high to lather his honey-colored hair. I smiled at him as the motion dragged my chest against his. He bent down to give me better access, leaning his forehead onto my shoulder. I washed him as he had washed me. It was the first time he’d allowed me to tend to him as tenderly as he so often did to me. “Do you mind me touching you like this? Is that why you avoid letting me do this to you, usually?”

He shook his head, his eyes closed. His voice was a rasp in my ear. “Not you. I love any touch from you. It feels caring, and I want that. I want so much for you to care for me.”

My heart hurt a little at his words. I wanted to reassure him, but the words were a lump in my throat.

He just hugged me tightly, not pressing me for the words. If he had wanted a woman who could express her feelings easily, I supposed he wouldn’t have chosen me.

“Move in with me.” His words were quiet but heartfelt.

I sighed. He was an undeniable force. A few short days, and it was nearly impossible to tell him no.

“How about this? We’ll spend more time together. If we’re in the same city, we’ll have sleepovers, just like we’ve done the last few days.”

He just about squeezed the breath out of me. “Thank you,” he rasped, and began to kiss me. His hands were everywhere, his mouth hot, as he backed me against the shower wall. When he felt my hot center and found it wet, he lifted me against him, impaling me brutally.

“Tell me if you’re sore,” he said roughly.

He leaned my back against the tiled wall and began to thrust.

I was sore, deliciously sore, but I wouldn’t have told him so for anything. Then he might have stopped the heavenly orgasm that built as he pounded into me. I watched his lovely face, as he had taught me, as he moved, my hands grasping his shoulders. His face was wet, his golden skin so perfect. I thought he looked like an angel, with his wet hair trailing into his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” I told him quietly, but he still heard me over the spray.

He clearly enjoyed my admiration, his body shuddering in preparation for his climax. I felt him shuddering down to my toes, and it tipped me over the edge.

I cupped his cheek as we came together. It was so intimate that it should have made me cold, or uncomfortable, or even repulsed, but it didn’t. More and more, I was craving this intimacy, not running from it.

CHAPTER TWENTY

After we’d showered and dressed, I found my phone, intending to text Stephan about the spa day.

James held up a hand. “Let me talk to him.”

I wrinkled my nose. He tapped it.

“Why do you need to tell him?” I asked, suspicious.

“Why not?” he asked.

I dropped it, seeing by his innocent expression that I would have better luck asking Stephan what James was texting him.

“I’m going to cook some eggs for breakfast, unless you object,” I told him, pulling on an old sundress. I figured I’d get dressed for real after we ate. I didn’t even bother with underwear.

He gave me a heated kiss. He tasted unbelievably good. He always did. I sucked at his hot mouth, and he groaned, pulling away. He smiled and slapped my ass.

I beat a hasty retreat. At this rate, we would f**k each other until we starved to death.

I was walking to the kitchen, phone still clutched in my hand, when it began to ring. I glanced at the face. I recognized the number, since I’d missed several calls from the same 702 number over the past month.

Impulsively I answered. I didn’t like mysteries, and I wanted to know who kept calling me so persistently.

“Hello,” I said into the phone.

There was no response on the other end, just silence with the faintest hint of soft music in the background. Three heartbeats later the phone disconnected from the other end.

My brow was furrowed as I set my phone on the counter and began to cook breakfast. The calls were strange, but hardly something to let myself be bothered about. I resolved not to let myself dwell on them.

I made a huge portion of eggs and whatever else I could find that went with them. Peppers, onions, ham, smoked turkey, with some extra sharp cheddar to top it off. It was a better breakfast then I’d thought I could come up with, so I was rather pleased with the effort.

James ate a ridiculous amount of it. His plate had to be filled with at least five eggs worth, but he cleared it in short order. He ate it as though he’d never had such fine food in his life, when the reality was, it was just what I could scrounge up, since I was often out of town. Still, I appreciated his enthusiasm.

I shouldn’t have been surprised to find new additions to my closet, both for me and for James. It was stuffed full, whereas before it had been rather sparse. I sent him an arch look as I noticed the change. He didn’t even seem to notice, looking through my new clothes. He pulled a pair of tiny white cargo shorts off of a hanger, handing them to me. They were shorter than anything I owned. He picked out a little gold tank top with geometric designs printed across it in black and white. He handed it to me without a word.

I raised my brows at his arbitrary choices, but I put them on without a protest. I could at least see how they fit, and how they looked.