Raid (Unfinished Hero #3)(50)

I lay there, sated, feeling so fine I didn’t know anyone could feel that fine and thinking that I just took off my clothes, and na**d as the day I was born f**ked a beautiful fully clothed man and came so hard I might not need another orgasm for a decade.

This made me grin, which was what Raiden caught me doing when he walked out of the bathroom.

When he caught it, his amazing eyes warmed, his entire face softened and Raiden Miller in my bedroom grinned back.

Then he gave me more beautiful.

He stopped at the side of the bed and he did something remarkable, something I’d remember for the rest of my life.

It wasn’t the same, but it still was. While I watched, taking his time, Raiden took off his clothes. Giving me what I gave him, making what already was a happy memory for me, trusting that he would take care of me, do right by me, give me beauty, a happier memory when he gave it right back to me.

Then he put a knee to the bed, lifted the afghan, slid under it with me and pulled me into his arms.

On our sides, front to front, my arms around him, my head tucked under his chin, my forehead to his throat, cheek to his collarbone, I heard and felt his rumbled, “You good?”

“Um… they haven’t measured this level of good, thus it has as yet gone undefined, so the answer is yes, but the word is wrong.”

His arms tightened and his body started shaking.

Idiotically, I kept talking. “I’ll be contacting Webster tomorrow. My suggestion will be absof*ckingmazing.”

Raiden’s body started shaking harder.

That was all the idiocy I had left in me. My orgasm drove the rest of it out, so I had nothing left to give except silently cuddling closer to Raiden.

He got control of his hilarity, his body quit shaking and his neck moved before I felt his lips on top of my hair where he murmured, “My girl came hard.”

I so did.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“I think you’re gonna have fun with the way I like to play,” he noted.

He was not wrong.

I didn’t answer. Just cuddled closer.

“Yeah, she’s gonna have fun,” he muttered into my hair, and I heard the smile in his voice. But there was no smile, his voice was gruff when he finished with, “My reward.”

That was twice he said that, but I let it go, mostly because I had a feeling he would tell me what that meant when it was his time.

He fell silent. I remained that way.

We held each other and Raiden only moved once, to lift a hand and brush the tips of his fingers tenderly along my neck at the place where his teeth sank in before his arm moved back around me to pull me closer.

There was something about that gesture, that touch. Something significant. Something I wasn’t sure I got, but something I liked. I didn’t question it, didn’t say a word; not willing to break the mood, not about to question that gesture of tenderness Raiden gave me, happy just to accept it silently.

After a while, I tilted my head back and his chin dipped down so I could catch his eyes.

Those eyes.

In my bed.

Looking at me.

I let that settle as I asked an important question.

“You want a hot fudge sundae?”

“Yeah,” he answered, lips twitching.

“I make homemade hot fudge,” I shared.

“Then f**k yeah,” he replied, now smiling.

I reached up, touched my mouth to his and said, “Let’s go.”

He lifted up, taking me and the afghan with us so I was still covered, which was again sweet.

He pulled on his jeans commando.

I rooted under my pillowcase and pulled on my pajama shorts (commando) and my tank top (also commando).

We went downstairs and I started a pot of hot fudge sauce that eventually burned beyond being edible.

This was because as I was preparing to assemble the sundaes, I got out a spray can of whipping cream

And Raiden saw it.

So the hot fudge ended up burned.

But I ended up na**d on my back on my kitchen table getting another orgasm that had everything to do with Raiden: his hands, his mouth, his tongue and a can of whipping cream.

It was better than any sundae I’d ever had.

Much better.

Chapter Thirteen

That Kind of Love

The next morning…

I was in the kitchen standing at the counter in my pajamas, arranging the cinnamon apple slices on top of the coffeecake batter, when I sensed movement to my side.

I turned my head.

Raiden was there.

This wasn’t a surprise. I’d heard the water going in the bathroom upstairs.

But it was a delight, seeing as he was wearing nothing but jeans, his hair a sexy mess, his eyes drowsy but warm and on me as he sauntered my way.

I smiled. “Morning, sweetheart.”

His “morning” was better.

He said no words but fitted the front his big body to the back of mine and wrapped his arms around me. Then he bent his head and kissed my shoulder.

Yes, a whole lot better than mine.

His stubbled chin came to rest on my shoulder and I knew he was watching my hands arrange apple slices.

This was proved when he rumbled, “That looks good,” his voice deeper because it was like his eyes, still a hint sleepy.

“Apple cinnamon streusel coffeecake,” I told him.

“Jesus,” he murmured, sounding slightly stunned, as he would considering the countertop was a mess of bowls, ingredients and coffeecake preparation residue.