Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(69)
I feel incredibly loved.
I feel cherished. I feel adored.
There are no other words for it.
He takes my arms and pins them above my head, clasping both of my hands with one of his.
He runs his other hand down my side, my waist, my hips, until he reaches my knee and grasps it to wrap my leg around his waist, bringing him in deeper.
He kisses down the inside of my arms, which are still held above my head.
He rubs his thumb against my nipples.
He kisses my lips.
He sucks on my neck.
“You’re a f*cking dream. You’re a f*cking dream and I can’t believe I’m not dreaming you right now,” he whispers.
He slips his hand behind me and cups my bottom and my eyes burn when he uses his hand to pull me, grind me against his cock as he enters again. I roll my hips and take every inch that I can, kissing his face, then kissing a path to his lips.
“You look so f*cking gorgeous, I could eat you up,” he growls.
When we come, we come even harder than before, clutching and twisting against each other, our mouths biting and tasting and kissing each other.
When he finally pulls away, I don’t know my name.
I look up at him and we are both quiet.
My heart is beating so hard in my chest. My whole body is vibrating.
He’s breathing hard. His muscles are warm against my body. His hand remains on my lower back, holding me still.
He looks down at me and lays his forehead against mine.
These are the kinds of moments that make you realize that you never really need to hear the words I love you. Right now the words are all over me, all over us, in his touch, his gaze, the way he breathes me in, the way I breathe him too.
We stay that way for a couple of long, exquisite minutes, satisfied, happy. At peace.
When he pulls away I swear he takes a piece of me with him, but he comes back with a boyish smile on his face and gives me my cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Regina,” he finally says.
“Good morning, Tahoe,” I say back.
He winks and leans over to kiss me on my forehead.
“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks, turning his back to me and taking out some pans.
“Hmm…are we fully stocked? Of course we are. How about…pancakes?”
“Mm…I like how you’re thinking,” he answers. “Pancakes it is.”
After checking the ingredients in the fridge and debating whether we should add blueberries or dark chocolate chips, we decide on both.
We have coffee next to each other on a small breakfast table, the sun coming up through the big windows of the Saints’ house.
We talk about our schedules, trying to figure out if we need to head back today or Sunday.
We settle on Sunday night so we can be at work on Monday…and we can enjoy each other until then.
And when I start flipping pancakes with Tahoe’s hand on my butt and his lips nibbling my ear, I smile the whole time.
It’s still, even now, especially now, so damn easy with him…
TEXTS
When we arrive back in Chicago, I update the girls and they both nearly bust my eardrums when they yell over the phone.
They want details.
Wynn screams, “I knew it! Finally we can talk about it!” and Rachel laughs and says she and Wynn had been having conversations that alternated between fretting about us and actually praying that we could make it work. Rachel says that soon after I left for the Hamptons, Saint returned home and urgently asked her where Tahoe could find me. In that instant, she says she knew—because Tahoe came with him—that it was clear that T-Rex wanted me no matter what.
“Something about the look in his eyes was so fierce, like he’d tear a building open to find you,” Rachel says.
I get a message early one morning that week from my parents.
Mom: So your father and I have been talking and we thought it would be a good idea to travel into town and finally meet this man you’ve been dating so we’re making it home for Christmas to meet Trent!
Tahoe shifts in his bed and bites my shoulder. “Who is it at this hour?”
“My parents. They’re probably in a very different time zone right now,” I whisper.
His fingers are callused, his eyes warm, as he strokes my hair and peers into my phone screen. He reads the text and raises his brows.
He leans back, fully relaxed and fully hot, as I text back my mother. I show him the text.
Me: Actually, Mother, I’m dating Tahoe now. :)
He laughs approvingly and reaches out to caress my bare arm. He raises his hand and tugs at a loose strand of my hair, his eyes loving. His hand slides up to stroke his thumb along the back of my neck. I exhale and close my eyes until my phone buzzes, and I read the text. I show Tahoe her reply.
Mom: What Tahoe? The Texan Tahoe ROTH?
He gives another rumbling laugh. And then there’s that twinkle in his baby blues. God, he rocks that dimple, that face. I’m probably one of thousands who have fallen for it, one of hundreds for sure.
Over a year ago I’d already been trapped, and he’s only ensnared me more and more, especially with those hot looks he gives me, like he wants me and only me.
Laughing at my mother’s panic, I kiss him. Set my lips right on his, then I smile. My father has always been a sucker for the who’s who in the business world; my mother a sucker for the who’s who in social circles around the globe. Why am I even surprised that they know who he is?