All for This
Page 42
I turn on the water and wash my face and brush my teeth while the tub fills. I strip off my clothes and wrap my hair into a loose knot on the top of my head. I have to grin at the sight of my stomach in the mirror. It’s hard to miss. I’m only halfway through my pregnancy, but I already get comments from strangers about how I must be getting close.
As I step into the tub, I actually moan in pleasure at the feel of the warm water on my skin. I turn on the jets and sink into the soft eddies of water.
Without my permission, my mind immediately fixes on Nate shirtless and beautiful sitting on my couch, Nate winking at me as he helps at the bakery, Nate sleeping in the bedroom over mine. Suddenly I’m not so tired and my skin tingles in the whirling water, so ready for human touch.
I HAVE developed this nightly habit of tucking Hanna into bed. She goes to bed early, and half the time, I find her under the blankets with a book before eight. Being with her like this—close enough to touch at all times but off-limits—is making me lose my mind, but if my mind’s gonna go, I couldn’t think of a better way.
I head straight to the master. It’s later than usual, so I expect to find her asleep, her book on the pillow beside her. Her bed is empty, but I can hear the jets running in the tub on the other side of the bathroom door.
I knock softly. “Hanna?”
No answer.
I knock again, a little louder this time. “Hanna, are you in there?”
When there’s still no answer, my heart kicks into panic mode and I’m picturing her asleep in the tub, sinking into the water and drowning. “Hanna?”
I open the door, expecting to see the worst.
Instead, I find Hanna soaking in the tub, the jets stirring the water around her. But it’s her hands that steal my breath—one between her legs and one at her breast, pinching her nipple.
God, she’s so f**king beautiful it hurts. Every day that I’m in this town and not touching her causes me literal pain, but seeing her like this—the pleasure on her face as her hips lift and she moves her finger inside herself—is the most delicious kind of torture I could imagine.
Her eyes are closed, and I can’t make myself move any direction but forward. I want it to be my hand between her legs, my fingers bringing her that pleasure, and my mouth at her swollen br**sts.
Hanna’s always been beautiful to me, but round with pregnancy—ripe with my babies—she’s over-the-top gorgeous.
She shifts her hand between her legs, changing her angle. Her moan is so soft I can barely make it out over the jets.
I’m so f**king hard. My c**k strains painfully against my fly. I need to leave. She doesn’t want me here. God knows I’ve made it clear where she can find me if she’s interested. But my feet don’t obey, and I can’t take my eyes from her. What is she thinking about? Who is she imagining touching her?
Max? Me?
She murmurs something. Was that my name on her lips?
I don’t dare to hope, yet I hear myself say her name. I speak it softer than I did outside the door, but she hears me this time, and her eyes fly open.
Her lips part and she says my name on an exhale. If I thought she was beautiful before…damn. Her eyes are dark with desire, and little tendrils have escaped from her hair tie, curling against the smooth skin of her neck. Her br**sts rise and fall with her breath, her ni**les teasing the water’s surface as she takes me in.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She surprises me by crooking her finger at me. I step toward the tub as she rolls onto her knees. When I’m near enough that she can reach, she tugs on my belt and pulls me another step forward until she’s looking up at me through her lashes and her face is level with the belt she’s pulling from my jeans. She unbuttons my pants and tugs them down my hips.
“Jesus,” I hiss. But her hand is already sliding between my legs and cupping my balls in her palm as she wraps her other hand around the length of my shaft. “Hanna…”
Her eyes flash to my face briefly before she’s positioning her mouth over me—taking me in and stroking me with her lips and tongue—and my hand knots in her hair and tightens because Christ, that feels good.
I spread my legs to keep my balance and watch her lips move over me, feel her tongue wrap around the underside of my cock. God, I’ve wanted this—needed it. Not the blowjob, but Hanna. Touching me, letting me touch her. When she adds suction, a growl tears from my throat and my hand tightens in her hair. Then she moans too, and the vibration sends a current of pleasure right through me, knotting tight and low in my balls.
The hand that was stroking the base of me falls away. She dips it into the tub and slides it between her legs and—holy f**k—she’s stroking herself while she’s sucking my dick.
My eyes want to close because it’s good. So damn good. And knowing that doing this turns her on that much makes it all the hotter. But I force them open and keep my eyes glued to her—so f**king beautiful. And, for the moment at least, mine.
She pulls me deeper, moaning as she strokes herself, and my control snaps and I thrust my hips—once, twice—as she swallows around my swollen c**k and I come.
WHEN I pull back and lick my lips, Nate’s looking at me like I’m a goddess. Like I’m the most amazing woman he’s ever been with or near.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.
“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m not okay at all.”
He cups my face in his hand. “How can I help?”
As I step into the tub, I actually moan in pleasure at the feel of the warm water on my skin. I turn on the jets and sink into the soft eddies of water.
Without my permission, my mind immediately fixes on Nate shirtless and beautiful sitting on my couch, Nate winking at me as he helps at the bakery, Nate sleeping in the bedroom over mine. Suddenly I’m not so tired and my skin tingles in the whirling water, so ready for human touch.
I HAVE developed this nightly habit of tucking Hanna into bed. She goes to bed early, and half the time, I find her under the blankets with a book before eight. Being with her like this—close enough to touch at all times but off-limits—is making me lose my mind, but if my mind’s gonna go, I couldn’t think of a better way.
I head straight to the master. It’s later than usual, so I expect to find her asleep, her book on the pillow beside her. Her bed is empty, but I can hear the jets running in the tub on the other side of the bathroom door.
I knock softly. “Hanna?”
No answer.
I knock again, a little louder this time. “Hanna, are you in there?”
When there’s still no answer, my heart kicks into panic mode and I’m picturing her asleep in the tub, sinking into the water and drowning. “Hanna?”
I open the door, expecting to see the worst.
Instead, I find Hanna soaking in the tub, the jets stirring the water around her. But it’s her hands that steal my breath—one between her legs and one at her breast, pinching her nipple.
God, she’s so f**king beautiful it hurts. Every day that I’m in this town and not touching her causes me literal pain, but seeing her like this—the pleasure on her face as her hips lift and she moves her finger inside herself—is the most delicious kind of torture I could imagine.
Her eyes are closed, and I can’t make myself move any direction but forward. I want it to be my hand between her legs, my fingers bringing her that pleasure, and my mouth at her swollen br**sts.
Hanna’s always been beautiful to me, but round with pregnancy—ripe with my babies—she’s over-the-top gorgeous.
She shifts her hand between her legs, changing her angle. Her moan is so soft I can barely make it out over the jets.
I’m so f**king hard. My c**k strains painfully against my fly. I need to leave. She doesn’t want me here. God knows I’ve made it clear where she can find me if she’s interested. But my feet don’t obey, and I can’t take my eyes from her. What is she thinking about? Who is she imagining touching her?
Max? Me?
She murmurs something. Was that my name on her lips?
I don’t dare to hope, yet I hear myself say her name. I speak it softer than I did outside the door, but she hears me this time, and her eyes fly open.
Her lips part and she says my name on an exhale. If I thought she was beautiful before…damn. Her eyes are dark with desire, and little tendrils have escaped from her hair tie, curling against the smooth skin of her neck. Her br**sts rise and fall with her breath, her ni**les teasing the water’s surface as she takes me in.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She surprises me by crooking her finger at me. I step toward the tub as she rolls onto her knees. When I’m near enough that she can reach, she tugs on my belt and pulls me another step forward until she’s looking up at me through her lashes and her face is level with the belt she’s pulling from my jeans. She unbuttons my pants and tugs them down my hips.
“Jesus,” I hiss. But her hand is already sliding between my legs and cupping my balls in her palm as she wraps her other hand around the length of my shaft. “Hanna…”
Her eyes flash to my face briefly before she’s positioning her mouth over me—taking me in and stroking me with her lips and tongue—and my hand knots in her hair and tightens because Christ, that feels good.
I spread my legs to keep my balance and watch her lips move over me, feel her tongue wrap around the underside of my cock. God, I’ve wanted this—needed it. Not the blowjob, but Hanna. Touching me, letting me touch her. When she adds suction, a growl tears from my throat and my hand tightens in her hair. Then she moans too, and the vibration sends a current of pleasure right through me, knotting tight and low in my balls.
The hand that was stroking the base of me falls away. She dips it into the tub and slides it between her legs and—holy f**k—she’s stroking herself while she’s sucking my dick.
My eyes want to close because it’s good. So damn good. And knowing that doing this turns her on that much makes it all the hotter. But I force them open and keep my eyes glued to her—so f**king beautiful. And, for the moment at least, mine.
She pulls me deeper, moaning as she strokes herself, and my control snaps and I thrust my hips—once, twice—as she swallows around my swollen c**k and I come.
WHEN I pull back and lick my lips, Nate’s looking at me like I’m a goddess. Like I’m the most amazing woman he’s ever been with or near.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he says.
“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m not okay at all.”
He cups my face in his hand. “How can I help?”
