I pull him tighter to me, finally speaking. “Just because I can’t say it yet, doesn’t mean I don’t feel it,” I muster, giving him honesty. “In fact, I think I felt what you’re feeling first.” I can feel his back tense, and his head drops further forward. “Look at me,” I tell him and turn him around.
His eyes find mine as I hold his beautiful face in my hands. Water drips from his dark hair onto his pain-filled face as I lean in and kiss him.
He swallows hard. “Say it,” he whispers.
My heart is racing, and I try to form the words on my tongue, but I can’t. I press my lips to his, wanting him to feel what I can’t say. “Let me show you,” I whisper against his lips. My hands fall from his face to his shoulders and down his chest. I press a soft kiss to the firm plane of his chest where I can feel his heart beating just underneath.
His eyes never leave me as I explore every inch of his chest, finally falling to my knees in front of him. I can see his jaw muscles working as he fights back whatever he wants to say. Water runs in a small river down his abs into the short stock of dark hair just above his cock.
I reach for his firm erection, running my hand up and down his length, making him even harder. He moans at my touch. Pulling the soft head into my mouth, I run my tongue around it slowly, savoring the taste of him, while my right hand works the base of his cock simultaneously.
My sweet man comes unglued as I work him in my mouth. His legs tremble and his hands tighten into fists as he fights against his pleasure. Pulling himself free from my mouth, he reaches down and pulls me up by my arms. Shoving me against the glass shower wall, he reaches behind me, lifting me by my bottom.
“Let me show you,” he says, pressing himself into me. It’s fast and hard, and I yelp in shock at his sudden movement before he slows, using his mouth to kiss every inch of my face and neck and chest before he loses himself in me. In between every kiss, every lick, every touch, he tells me he loves me—and I believe him. I savor his touch and drink in his love, even if I’m unable to verbally express the same in return.
I come fast and hard with my arms wrapped around his neck. Every part of me is sated, and I rest my head on his shoulders. With two last thrusts, he finishes, filling me. I’ll never have enough of this man.
“I love you, Saige,” he whispers against my lips before setting me down, his eyes shifting from angry to compassionate. “And I’m going to show you again, and again, and again just how much I love you until you’re able to say it in return.”
I wake to find Holt in the living room area of our suite, balancing his laptop on his lap while sipping a cup of coffee. CNN is on the large-screen television in the background.
I clear my throat, drawing Holt’s attention to me. “Good morning.” I shield my eyes from the bright sun streaming through the large windows of the hotel room.
His mouth twists into a small smile. “Mornin’.”
I tighten the belt on my robe and sit next to him on the couch. “What time are we leaving today?”
“Anxious to get back?” he asks, setting his computer on the coffee table in front of him.
“No.” I rub the back of my neck. “But if we have time, I’d like to check in on your mom.”
He smiles at me. “I appreciate your concern,” he starts, setting his hand on my thigh, pushing the end of the robe aside. “But I’ve already spoken with her. She’s feeling better and apologized about last night.” His hand slides further up my inner thigh, pushing my legs apart.
“I’m glad,” I respond, my breath hitching.
There is a hunger in his eyes, and the corner of his lips twist into a grin. “We’re not leaving until this afternoon, and I plan to spend all morning showing you how I feel about you.” He leans in and presses a kiss to my lips as his fingers find my center. I gasp as his finger swirls my clit, and I instantly find myself sinking back into the couch to give him better access.
“Oh no, not here,” he says, standing up. He reaches for my hand and pulls me to a standing position. He walks me backwards slowly, back toward the bedroom. “I plan to spend all morning exploring every inch of this perfect body,” he says, pulling the tie on my robe so that it falls open. “When you think of New York, I want you to remember how tired and sore you were and not from walking around the city.”
He guides me into the bedroom, stopping me just as the back of my legs hit the mattress. Then he slides the robe off my shoulders, letting it fall into a pile at our feet. Reaching between my legs again, he gently rubs back and forth, and I gasp at his touch. “You’re wet,” he observes, sliding a finger inside me. “And so fucking tight. Lie down.” He guides me onto the bed, my back pressed into the soft mattress.
My skin pricks with goose bumps as he runs his hands over the soft flesh of my stomach and up to my breasts. He pinches my nipples, and my back arches at his touch. I lose myself in Holt as he takes his time touching me. His fingers and lips mark every spot on my body, and he claims me through his words and his touch.