He palmed the plump flesh of her breast with his hand, running his thumb over the erect nipple. Her sharp inhale made him do it again. When she reached for the clasp in front, he brushed her hands aside, wanting to do it himself. After he flicked it open and peeled the fabric back, her pert nipples jutted forward, asking for his mouth. Ignoring his instant need, he turned his attention to getting her completely undressed. He undid her pants, tugged them and her panties off, and dropping them to the floor. He stood and peeled her blouse and bra over her shoulders, tossed them aside, and removed his own clothing.
As he joined her on the bed, he stretched out beside her, loving the length of her body pressed against his. He leaned down and took the tip of her breast between his lips, flicking his tongue across it. Her fingers dug into his hair, and she pushed herself farther into his waiting mouth.
“I-I want,” she gasped as he sucked the nipple into his mouth. “Oh, God, Tommy.”
He loved hearing her breathe his name in abject pleasure. Wanted to hear it again and again.
He switched to the other nipple. Her mewls of excitement filled his head. She met him each step, pulling him closer. Begging. He got lost in the feel of her, the smell of her. All he was aware of was her and her response to his touch. Returning to her mouth, he saw to her pleasure first, lowering his hands between her thighs. She immediately parted for him. As he used his fingers to love on her body, he used his lips to love on her mouth, feeding on each one of her glorious gasps as she climbed higher and higher. When she climaxed, her body arcing like a bow against his, her long moan wrapping him in shivers of passion, there was no need to take or to devour.
All he wanted was to be inside her. No kinky positions. No fast and hard fucking. Just feeling her body beneath his, joined as one.
Rolling between her legs, his chest met her naked breasts and the air gushed from his lungs at the feel of her tight nipples scraping his skin. He braced his forearms on either side of her and gazed down, watching her wide hazel eyes as he slowly entered her. Her lips parted on a soft sigh.
Just to hear that sigh once more, he did it again, closing his eyes as the sounds of her pleasure wrapped around him. He loved listening to her.
He loved her.
Not in the way he’d spent the last twenty-three years loving her. Because now she was his. For richer, for poorer, for better, for worse.
And suddenly he knew she always had been.
He wasn’t his mother’s son. He was capable of love. Deep, wanting to have a family with the love of his life, lasting-forever love.
That was why he’d gone from woman to woman. Not because he had some kind of fucked-up broken gene from his crap mom. He’d known, deep down, the women were nothing compared to Julie. She had always had his heart. It had just taken a bit longer for his head to catch up.
He’d been incapable of making love to anyone but Julie. This slow, even pace was just as thrilling and fulfilling as a hard, fast rhythm because Julie was the one beneath him looking up, eyes glazed with passion, lips swollen from his kisses.
His.
Capturing her mouth, he poured every bit of his incredible discovery into that kiss, letting her feel the change, grow accustomed—accept it. Sure, he’d continue to crave this woman with a lust that bordered on insanity, continue to fuck her with a mindlessness he only reached with her, but now he’d learned the true beauty of lovemaking, and he wanted everything that came with it.
He wanted her. And her alone.
When her palm cupped his cheek, he took that as her acceptance.
Their relationship had changed.
They were a couple.
Afterward, he cradled Julie in his arms, kissing the top of her head. A part of him wanted to tell her he loved her, to put words to what he’d just shown her with his body. But they’d said those same words to each other thousands of times in the past. They didn’t have the same meaning as they would have if spoken for the first time after making love.
And just because he’d finally made love to her, that didn’t mean she was willing to accept he was in love with her. It went against everything he’d always done. Everything he’d always said, even to her. Hell, especially to her.
He had to show Julie he loved her.
He wanted to be her boyfriend—and to be a great one.
He’d never held that title—not with her, not with any woman. He’d never wanted it, had never even trained for it, and he was more than worried he’d somehow screw it up. He hugged her tighter. No, he would be the best damn boyfriend ever, because if he wasn’t, he would lose this woman…and that just wasn’t an option.
He drew in a deep, steadying breath.
He was about to enter a big fight. The biggest, most important fight of his life.
And he aimed to win by a knockout.
Chapter 13
Tommy walked into the gym just as Mike was closing the door of his office. Tommy kept walking, but his coach quickened his steps toward him, clapped him on the shoulder, and steered him in the opposite direction. “We don’t have time for a pre-fight chat,” Mike said. “Tate had something come up, so we have to get started now.”
“Shouldn’t we cancel, then?”
“No. It’s got to happen now.”
Tommy frowned, not understanding Mike’s insistence that the fight happen today. This was just sparring at a gym, not a real fight. They could do it later this week.