He crawled back onto the bed and skimmed his hands down her ribs. The ripples and ridges of bone were still too prominent against her skin, but time and Row’s cooking would take care of that. He bent down, kissed her belly button, and tugged her panties down. She shifted her weight, allowing him to sweep them off and toss them over his shoulder.
Bare to him, the light blond curls between her thighs were caught by a ray of sunshine slanting across the bed, glinting shades of gold. She was perfect. Not in the way of supermodels or porn stars, but in a way that she was everything—that word again—he’d never known he needed. She filled in his hollow places, rounded his sharp edges, and made him feel something other than anger for the first time in twenty-five years. “Baby.” He almost forgot how to speak beyond the endearment. “You’re so lovely. Let me see all of you. Open for me.”
Without hesitation, she spread her legs for him. She had no fear in bed. She’d said she’d dreamed of them together. Maybe that was why. The reason didn’t matter. He loved her lack of inhibitions.
He moved between her legs, slid his hands underneath her ass, and lifted her to his face. She was pink and glistening with her desire for him. His already-hard dick went to steel, wanting her so badly he ached. But it was an agony he’d gratefully endure. He bent, inhaling the primitive scent of her desire just before he licked her. She tasted warm like sunshine on a salty sea. She tasted of promise. She tasted of good things to come. Together, they were going to make something spectacular.
“Xander…” She breathed his name, the sound as powerful as a physical caress to his dick. He moaned against her opening and then suckled her clit, laving the bud until she writhed against his face with uninhibited exuberance, wanting and needing what only he could give her. He couldn’t wait a moment more.
In one fluid movement he rose over her, positioned himself at her core, and slid home. Home. She was his home. So hot. So tight. So…right. Being with her wasn’t about fulfilling his body’s craving for release. Being with her was about fulfilling himself, becoming the man he was meant to be. The man she made him.
“Xan—oh God.”
Her orgasm pulsed against his dick, urging him to fuck her. Really fuck her. But this was sweet. Too sweet for hard fucking.
“Over. Roll over.” She gasped the words, but he didn’t understand language anymore. Only sensation existed. Her heat wrapped around him. Her body sliding against his.
Somehow his body submitted to her will and he found himself on his back, her riding his dick with gusto and strength.
She fucked him. Fucked him with her head flung back, body pumping against his, taking all of him—body, heart, and soul. It was a goddamn beautiful thing.
Tension built in his balls. He gritted his teeth, trying to contain the mounting explosion. He wanted to give her more. Give her everything. She slid herself down his shaft, and he touched heaven. All his fancy-assed ideas about control vanished. He grabbed her hips, thrusting up while she slammed down. Their rhythm messy and frantic and perfect.
“Xander. Xander. Xander.”
His fucking name on her lips while she came triggered his own orgasm. Cum burst from his balls, and he ground against her while pleasure ripped through him.
He collapsed boneless, as the aftershocks of what they’d done gently hummed through him. She slumped forward on his chest with him still inside her. Not that he minded. He could live an entire lifetime right here and die a happy man.
A sweet giggle of dazed satisfaction came from her. He chuckled too. Being with her, he felt something he’d never had before.
Happiness.
Chapter 17
A thump.
A moan.
Xander bolted upright in bed, his hearing on hyper-alert for Isleen. Had he been sleeping? Must’ve been. He heard the rapid rhythm of her breathing coming from downstairs. That thump, that moan had come from her. He knew it.
“Isleen?” He called loud enough to be heard throughout the cabin and got out of bed.
Evening sunshine shimmered through the bedroom window, splashing russet rays around the room and giving the atmosphere a lazy, timeless quality.
Bzzz. His cell phone vibrated against the nightstand.
Kent calling lit up the display.
Fuck the phone.
From the top of the stairs, the entire living room was visible. Isleen huddled on the floor, clutching her head and rocking. Xander flew down the stairs, feet barely touching the steps. Another dream. Only this time he hadn’t been there to wake her up.
“Baby, you’ll feel better in a minute. Just hold on.” He slid in next to her, laying his hands on top of hers.
A great sigh of relief slipped from her lips. Coolness swelled over him. A tingle and zing started in his palms and moved up his arms to his shoulders and then spread out from there. Holy wow. It felt so good and right and oddly satisfying to do this for her, like it was his soul’s destiny to ease her suffering. To heal her.