Soft, wet, warm lips moving against mine in the most tender, sweet, lovely kiss I have ever been given.
He kisses me in a way I have never been kissed the morning after.
He kisses me like I am the first drop of rain after years of drought.
He kisses me like I am the first and only bite of chocolate he is ever going to get.
He savors me. Tastes me. Sucks on me. Pries me open with his tongue and gently, slowly moves his lips against mine.
He slips my nightgown up my hips and I realize he’ll soon discover I’m not wearing any underwear. I scoot closer to him and the scent of his shampoo and his cologne hit me.
I almost start crying right there because this feels so perfect and so forbidden and so lovely I could die.
I rock my hips against his erection.
He lifts his head. “Regina?” he mumbles. He looks at me. His lips parted, his blue eyes glowing, surveying, exploring, probing me. Almost asking me to say the words.
He looks expectant. Warm. Waiting for me to do something.
I just nod. “I want you,” I whisper mischievously in his ear. I take his arm and wrap it around my body.
That was all he needed.
“Regina…” This time it doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a prayer.
It sounds like a growl.
He takes me in his arms and drags me to the edge of the counter, between his parted legs.
He frames my head with his hands and looks at me with those blue eyes.
We look at each other for what feels like years until he reaches out his hand and rubs my chin with his thumb.
I feel a knot in my throat, but I force myself to ignore it.
Why the hell do I want to cry right now? God, Regina, breathe.
Breathe…
I keep telling myself that as I feel him shift above me so the hardest part of him fits right between my legs. I moan.
He drops his head and kisses my collarbone. His lips are incredibly warm and wet, as they trace a leisurely path from my collarbone to my jaw.
He teases his fingers into my sex.
He kisses along my neck, soft, lingering kisses. He traces my lips with the tip of his thumb.
He kisses my chin. My forehead. He rubs his knuckles across my cheek. “You’re so soft…”
He gives me a look that could instantly melt metal before he heads to the bedroom.
I’m dazed, watching as Tahoe lazily walks back to me while tearing open a condom packet.
He swiftly unties the drawstring of his pajama pants, releasing himself. Then he slips on the condom, stands before me, drags me back up against him, crushes my mouth beneath his, and he enters me…and it’s perfect. His voice is rough and smooth at the same time. Dark and light. Thunder and lightning.
I cup his face and force him to look at me as he takes me.
His eyes look incredible. His bearded jaw sexy. His lips wet from sucking on my skin.
I run my fingers through his hair and bring him down to my breast, pulling down the material of my nightie.
The kiss is wet. Raw. Warm.
He lifts his head and pushes his tongue inside my mouth and I practically melt in his arms.
He kisses me for a long time. Sucking my moans into his mouth and getting to know every part of mine as he continues pumping.
He sucks my lower lip into his mouth gently, and bites it with his teeth, and then he takes my mouth and gives me a lazy, long kiss.
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 fucking dream. You’re a fucking 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 fucking 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 th
e 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?
I text my answer and feel him grin as he nibbles my shoulder and sees what I write.
Me: The very one. He says he looks forward to meeting you this Christmas.
Mom: Regina men like that don’t settle!!!! Give me 5 minutes I’m calling!!!!
“She’s calling. Wow,” I say, looking at him in amazement. “Your reputation precedes you. Do you know how many times she’s actually called me?”
“Happy I’m good for something,” he smirks as he nibbles and bites my earlobe. I sigh and turn my head, kiss him softly. He drags his beard down my throat, my belly, down there—and he turns his face to my left inner thigh and nibbles his way to the center between both thighs. His lips stroke me, barely grazing my clit. Then his thumb circles me and dips inside my folds.
He lifts his head as he raises his thumb and shoves it into his mouth, licking me off him. His eyes shut, and he growls softly and lowers his head again to taste me at the source, the feel of his beard against my thighs tickling and arousing me.
He bites on my clit, and twirls his tongue in just the perfect way. And then his tongue dips inside me, then out, his whole mouth kissing and tasting me. His hands slide down my thighs to keep me open, to widen my legs apart…
And it takes my mom a little longer than five minutes to call, which is just perfect. By the time my phone rings, we’ve made hot, delicious love, and we’re both sated and relaxed in bed when I lazily answer. I tell her that I’m dating Tahoe and that he is exclusively dating me.
He laughs on his side of the bed, shaking his head over his reputation, then leans over and bites my shoulder again before taking the phone from me.
“Mrs. Wylde, I assure you, my intentions with your daughter are honorable. I’ve fallen in love with her, and nothing will give me more pleasure than meeting you both during the holiday.”
Well. He really knows how to charm just about anybody.
XMAS & NEW YEAR’S
We spend Thanksgiving with his parents, laughing and eating turkey, where I get to hear anecdotes of Tahoe as a mischievous little boy. Never content with anything. Even older ladies used to fawn over him and his dimple and his blue eyes.
For Christmas, we decide to stay in Chicago. My parents come and finally get to meet Tahoe over a delicious steak dinner at Chicago Cut.
I can tell that my parents were spending time at the beach. A warm glow shines on their skin as they head toward our table. “Come here and let me look at you,” my mother says, drawing me to her.
She lifts my arms and takes in my jeans and sequined sweater.
I’m embarrassed by the fact that it’s obvious my parents haven’t seen me in almost a year.
“So nice to see you, darling.” My mother finally hugs me, then sets me aside before excitedly asking, “And who’s the man?”
I glance at my dad, who’s grinning at me proudly. As if only now that I’ve found the approval of a man, I’m worthy.
“Tahoe,” I say, pointing at the Viking next to me as if they hadn’t already spotted him from the moment they walked through the restaurant door, when Tahoe and I stood up to welcome them.
Tahoe shakes their hands and greets them warmly.
I glance at Tahoe, a part of me wanting him to like them. Which is irrelevant, I guess, because sometimes your loved ones don’t love each other. But his smile is genuine, and my parents are obviously so impressed they’re nearly tripping on their words.
Mom is dressed fashionably as usual, her dark hair like mine pulled back into a neat bun, tons of faux pearl necklaces draped around her neck. “I have to say, the news came as a shock to us, a shock,” she admits, as Tahoe pulls her chair out.
I’m so tense, I’m relieved when Tahoe takes his seat and summons the waiter and motions in my direction for someone to get me a drink.
Rachel is the opposite of me. She’s so close to her mother that she’s always wanted that kind of connection for my mother and me, but you can’t force these things. And yet I’m surprised by how much we enjoy the evening together. Tahoe simply has a way of putting everyone at ease, and I think that seeing me so happy actually makes my parents more receptive to me somehow.
I can really tell that my mother is charmed by Tahoe. Not being one to mince words, she tells him that he’s just the man she’s warned me about all my life. That he has the smile of a bad boy and the face of a heartbreaker.
It amuses me that she sounds a little bit like his mother did. I nudge his ankle under the table and chide him. “Such an incorrigible ladies’ man, shame on you.”
His foot toes back my ankle and he smirks. “Yeah, but you’re my lady now.”
My mom can’t seem to resist kissing Tahoe on the cheek before they leave. She pats his beard and thanks him for being so good for me.
“Did you hear what she said?” I frown as we climb into his Ghost. “Good for me? Not to me?”
He leans across the car console and kisses my temple, his dimple forming a little nook against my cheek because I suppose he really liked that stroke to his ego. “Yeah, I heard.”
I roll my eyes but I smile to myself. Because I know, I’m good for him too.
* * *
For Christmas, I give him me…wrapped in nothing.
He gives me a key to his apartment.
I’m not ready to move in, but when I tell him that, he pats my butt and says, “Well hurry, ’cause I am.”
So on December 27th, I take a few things over. And I haven’t slept in my apartment since.
On New Year’s, there’s a party hosted by the high rollers Tahoe, Callan and Saint hang out with.
We dress up, go out, and mingle. But Rachel and Saint stay home with Kyle, Emmett and Wynn are spending New Year’s traveling, and Tahoe and I are far more interested in sexy times than mingling, so we don’t stay at the party for long.
* * *
The party was held close by so we’re able to reach his apartment in fifteen minutes. I kick off my shoes and drop my clutch on the sofa, then gaze out the living room window while Tahoe takes a bottle of champagne from his collection and sets it in an ice bucket to chill. He then drops down on the couch.
“Come here.” He crooks his finger in the shadows, his eyes glowing.
I gulp. “You should get a pet; it’s like your favorite phrase: ‘come here,’” I say.
But I start walking forward, helpless as a sleepwalker.
He rises to full height as I reach him. “I only like you to come here. Come right,” he pulls me into his arms and kisses my lips, adding a little tongue, “here.” He brings his hands to my face and starts removing my lipstick.
I groan and halfheartedly try to squirm free. “Don’t remove my makeup.”
“Don’t put it on then.” He smirks and holds me more firmly.
I frown at him. His gentle fingertips soon ease the frown away.
I find myself standing utterly still, studying his face as he has his way and erases my makeup until my face is b
are. His eyes shine with tenderness, sky blue and so raw that I feel raw too. I feel wanted and accepted and untouched by life, hopeful and in love, and I never thought I’d feel like this again.
I won’t cry.
I won’t cry I won’t cry Iwon’tcry.
Lifting his jacket, I duck underneath and pull it over the back of my head and hide myself as I press my bare face against his shirt buttons. My cheek pushes flat against his pecs. His chuckle rumbles against my cheek as he spreads his hand on my back. My fingers tug his shirt free of his waistband and slide underneath to tease a path up to his pectoral muscles. And his nipples.
I finger his nipple. He makes a sound in his throat that rumbles really deep. I open a few buttons and push his shirt aside to expose his other nipple. And I suck it.
His chuckle over my mischievousness fades to a groan. He shrugs off his jacket, then he finishes unbuttoning and shoulders off his shirt, frowning laughingly down at me. “Are you hiding from me? Don’t hide from me.”
Groaning, I put my hands over my cheeks. Through the spaces between my fingers, I meet his gaze.
His eyes are dancing in amusement.
His laugh fills the room. He’s enjoying seeing me like this and he shamelessly forces my arms to my sides. His voice darkens with lust. “Come on, let me look at you. You look edible right now.”
I leave my arms at my sides.
He holds my gaze as he tugs my sweater dress over my head, then lowers my strapless bra, and one of my nipples appears. He takes it in with hot male appreciation. He frees my other nipple and leaves them there, exposed.
He bends his head. He nibbles first. Bites the tip of one a little bit. The gentle tug of his teeth causing the tip of my nipple to swell and my sex to ache with an absolute craving to be filled. He turns his attention to my other nipple, biting it gently. He tugs, releases, licks it, then full-on kisses it. When he covers it with his mouth and sucks, I buck in pleasure. I arch and clutch at his back, raking my nails over his muscles.