Change of Hart (Wells Ranch, #3)(58)
When our eyes meet between kisses, I regret every single decision I made in the past. I hate that I haven’t had him like this every day. I hate that I broke us—broke him—and I can’t help but feel like my life would’ve been better if I had stayed here.
“Baby,” he says, stilling while fully seated inside me. “Why are you crying, Bear? Do you need me to stop?”
Oh God, am I seriously crying?
I swipe under my eyes, frustrated when my fingers turn up wet. “No, I’m just…I’m fine, honest.”
Seeing right through my weak attempt at hiding my feelings, he gives me a look—refusing to move a muscle, even as my heels press to the backs of his thighs.
“Okay, fine. I’m overwhelmed…. Can you hold me? But don’t stop. Just hold me.”
If he thinks the request is bizarre, he doesn’t say anything. One hand weaves into my hair, while the other wipes my eyes. And he doesn’t let go, even as tears dampen my hair and the pillow. With our foreheads pressed together, he kisses me slowly, his tongue pushing past my lips to fill my mouth the same way his cock is filling my core.
Slipping a hand between us, Denver locates my clit and tenderly massages in time with his thrusts, until my nails are creating small crescent moons in his back, and he’s kissing me out of necessity to dampen my needy cries.
“Shhh. I know, baby,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of my ear. His fingers pick up the pace on my clit, and each deep thrust has me ready to come undone. With every sound I make—and every tear rolling past my temple—he simply whispers, “I know, baby. I know.”
And I run my hands through his hair, desperate for all of him. Sinking the back of my head into the pillow and biting my lip, rolling my hips to feel him as deep as possible.
“That’s it. That’s my girl. As beautiful under me as I remember,” he says softly. “Come for me, baby. Let go.”
I whimper, eyes squeezed shut, doing my best to keep quiet as the tension builds between my legs. My skin’s crawling with the need for release, and I shove a corner of the comforter in my mouth, racked with so much pleasure I need to scream. And in one crashing wave of gratification and emotion, I relax from head to toe.
Even with my legs shaking, tears pooled on my pillow, he doesn’t stop kissing me, holding me, loving me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans with his final shuddering pumps punctuating each word. When contentment washes over his face, I pull him to me for another kiss.
Every daydream I allowed myself to envision in my darkest moments comes flooding back, flashing like an old-school film behind my eyelids—dancing in the living room of our first home, walking down the aisle, racing on horseback across the ranch to make love under a tree in the mountains, holding our baby for the first time. A movie I played in my mind whenever I wanted to cause myself irreparable pain. Only now, I see it through a different lens, because maybe there’s still time for our love story to happen.
Denver
She cried through most of our first time back together and, while that typically would be a sign to run for the hills, I knew it wasn’t because she was regretting having sex with me. Hell, I was holding back watery eyes myself. Blinking back the sting of tears and the burn in my nostrils, I held on to her and fought to keep myself composed enough to be there for her. If I had fallen apart at that moment, Blair would’ve picked herself back up so she could be my support—and all I’ve been wanting is the chance to prove I can be that for her.
Being back in her childhood bedroom, holding her and kissing her, is something I’ve had thousands of dreams about over the years. Finally having her again was ineffable. So I kiss her to make sure she’s not a figment of my imagination, wipe the tears from her reddened cheeks, and reluctantly pull out of her warmth.
“I’m sorry for crying.” She sniffles, propping herself up on her elbows and watching as I peel the condom from my dick.
“Bear, you don’t need to apologize.” Tossing the rubber into a trash can next to her old desk, I turn and crawl up the bed to lie beside her.
“I’m sure the women you normally sleep with don’t cry during it.”
The way she’s so hung up on the women I’ve slept with since her makes my stomach twist.
“Because there’s no emotion in that sex. This is different…it’s us.” My fingers run up and down her bare thighs, and I watch her melt under my touch. “You have nothing to be jealous of, okay? None of them are you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, baby.” I give her hip a gentle squeeze on my fingers’ slow exploration of her body. “I would rather have been right here with you for the last fourteen years.”
“Me too. Maybe not right here, though. I’d hope we wouldn’t still be sneaking around in my parents’ house.”
“Nah, we’d have a big house of our own, with a gorgeous view of the mountains from our king-size bed—not that I’d be looking at anything but you. And we’d be sneaking around so we didn’t wake up the kids.”
Okay, so I’ve put some thought into it.
Sniffling, she wipes at her eyes again. “You think?”
“If that’s what you wanted. I’d give you anything you want.”