Craving Resurrection
Page 108
“No, you look like you’re trying too hard.”
“Because I’m wearin’ boxer briefs?” He was looking at me like I’d lost my mind, and I was pretty sure I had.
“You’re too old for boxer briefs.”
“Yer too old for dose fuckin’ booty shorts I know ye have under dat skirt, cause I saw de outline of dem at de hospital earlier.”
“Did you just say booty shorts?”
“Ye’d call dem somet’in’ different?”
“Um, underwear that comes in a pack of ten. That’s what I’d call them.”
“Don’t care where dey came from, I’d still like to see yer arse cheeks hangin’ out de bottom of ‘em.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I had no idea what to say to that. We were venturing into dead man’s land, and I’d fucking led us there.
“Ye plannin’ on standin’ next to de door all night?”
“What?” I looked around me, then shook my head. “Uh, no.”
I’d carried my bag with me from my car, and I dropped it near the dresser so I could rummage through it for some pajamas. I wasn’t going to wake up again with my freaking skirt hiked up to my waist and lines from the chest band of my bra permanently imbedded in my skin.
Without another word, I scooped up my things and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind me. I needed a shower—a cold one—and a couple of minutes to get myself together.
“Ye couldn’t have grabbed an old t-shirt or somet’in’?” Patrick grumbled as I stepped out of the steamy bathroom a half hour later.
“I’m wearing shorts underneath, ya dirty old man.”
“I can be much dirtier, love,” he said hoarsely, sitting up from the bed. “Just say de word.”
I’d dated a few men in the last couple of years, nice guys, but not one of them had caused such a primitive reaction in my body. It was as if the closer he got to me as he crossed the room, the more my body heated and softened. My fight or flight response never kicked in, and I blame the stress I was under for the way I immediately began to justify my need to run my palms over all of the smooth skin that was just feet away from me.
Maybe if he’d gotten dressed in a nice pair of pajamas instead of prowling around the room in nothing but those boxer briefs…
“I’ve never wanted anyt’in’ as much as I want ye,” he said reverently, reaching out to run his finger over the strap of my nightgown laying against my shoulder.
“Word,” I choked out. I only said it once, but in my head it was ringing out over and over again.
“Yeah?” His hand slid up to cup the side of my throat and I shuddered.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
His other hand came up until they were both on my neck, tilting my head back as he stepped into me. The first kiss was tentative, our lips barely brushing, but when my hands lifted to rest on his chest, all bets were off.
His mouth pressed against mine as he groaned, and I immediately opened up, letting his tongue slide between my lips. Kissing had always been flawless with us, a choreographed dance that had us tilting our heads just so for maximum impact, and even after years apart and different lovers between us, that hadn’t seemed to change.
Chapter 52
Patrick
My hands were shaking so badly and I couldn’t seem to stop them.
I had her. She was right there in my arms and she wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t pulling away.
It was a fucking miracle.
This wasn’t a desire to comfort me like it had been the last time. Dear God, it had been twenty years since she’d had her hands on me that way. How could so much time pass by in the blink of an eye? It was both incredible and incredibly humbling that the minute we touched, all the years seemed to disappear.
“On de bed,” I ordered, running my hands down the front of her body until my fingers were gripping her hips. I wanted to spin her around and slap her ass to get her moving so I could watch it as she climbed onto the bed, but I didn’t dare let go of her. I was terrified that if our connection broke for even a moment, she’d realize that she didn’t really want me.
“You’re bossy,” she said, stepping backward.
“I’ve always been bossy.”
“You never needed a bed before. Too old to nail me against the wall?”
She was baiting me, pushing to get what she wanted, and my cock was so hard from her tone that it was about to rip through my briefs.
“We’re gonna be at it a while, yeah?” I replied, drawing a deep breath in through my nose to calm my breathing. “I want ye spread out and comfortable.”
I dropped my hand to her thigh as she reached the bed, and listened to her breathing speed up as I pushed the nightgown to her waist.
Shorts my arse. They were underwear, and just as I’d imagined, they only covered half of her cheeks.
“Dis comes off,” I rasped, gripping her nightgown and pulling it over her head.
I stopped then. Everything stopped—my hands, my breathing, my heart.
She was everything I’d missed for years, and more than anything I could have imagined.
Her chest was heaving, and her breasts swayed, the hard nipples pointed toward my chest like little beacons. They weren’t as perky as when we were young, but they were heavy and thick and I couldn’t help the sound I made as I stared. I drew my gaze downward, over her oddly shaped bellybutton that I knew came from when she’d carried Nix, and the small white lines that zigzagged their way from the top of her underwear to halfway up her stomach.
“Because I’m wearin’ boxer briefs?” He was looking at me like I’d lost my mind, and I was pretty sure I had.
“You’re too old for boxer briefs.”
“Yer too old for dose fuckin’ booty shorts I know ye have under dat skirt, cause I saw de outline of dem at de hospital earlier.”
“Did you just say booty shorts?”
“Ye’d call dem somet’in’ different?”
“Um, underwear that comes in a pack of ten. That’s what I’d call them.”
“Don’t care where dey came from, I’d still like to see yer arse cheeks hangin’ out de bottom of ‘em.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I had no idea what to say to that. We were venturing into dead man’s land, and I’d fucking led us there.
“Ye plannin’ on standin’ next to de door all night?”
“What?” I looked around me, then shook my head. “Uh, no.”
I’d carried my bag with me from my car, and I dropped it near the dresser so I could rummage through it for some pajamas. I wasn’t going to wake up again with my freaking skirt hiked up to my waist and lines from the chest band of my bra permanently imbedded in my skin.
Without another word, I scooped up my things and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind me. I needed a shower—a cold one—and a couple of minutes to get myself together.
“Ye couldn’t have grabbed an old t-shirt or somet’in’?” Patrick grumbled as I stepped out of the steamy bathroom a half hour later.
“I’m wearing shorts underneath, ya dirty old man.”
“I can be much dirtier, love,” he said hoarsely, sitting up from the bed. “Just say de word.”
I’d dated a few men in the last couple of years, nice guys, but not one of them had caused such a primitive reaction in my body. It was as if the closer he got to me as he crossed the room, the more my body heated and softened. My fight or flight response never kicked in, and I blame the stress I was under for the way I immediately began to justify my need to run my palms over all of the smooth skin that was just feet away from me.
Maybe if he’d gotten dressed in a nice pair of pajamas instead of prowling around the room in nothing but those boxer briefs…
“I’ve never wanted anyt’in’ as much as I want ye,” he said reverently, reaching out to run his finger over the strap of my nightgown laying against my shoulder.
“Word,” I choked out. I only said it once, but in my head it was ringing out over and over again.
“Yeah?” His hand slid up to cup the side of my throat and I shuddered.
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
His other hand came up until they were both on my neck, tilting my head back as he stepped into me. The first kiss was tentative, our lips barely brushing, but when my hands lifted to rest on his chest, all bets were off.
His mouth pressed against mine as he groaned, and I immediately opened up, letting his tongue slide between my lips. Kissing had always been flawless with us, a choreographed dance that had us tilting our heads just so for maximum impact, and even after years apart and different lovers between us, that hadn’t seemed to change.
Chapter 52
Patrick
My hands were shaking so badly and I couldn’t seem to stop them.
I had her. She was right there in my arms and she wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t pulling away.
It was a fucking miracle.
This wasn’t a desire to comfort me like it had been the last time. Dear God, it had been twenty years since she’d had her hands on me that way. How could so much time pass by in the blink of an eye? It was both incredible and incredibly humbling that the minute we touched, all the years seemed to disappear.
“On de bed,” I ordered, running my hands down the front of her body until my fingers were gripping her hips. I wanted to spin her around and slap her ass to get her moving so I could watch it as she climbed onto the bed, but I didn’t dare let go of her. I was terrified that if our connection broke for even a moment, she’d realize that she didn’t really want me.
“You’re bossy,” she said, stepping backward.
“I’ve always been bossy.”
“You never needed a bed before. Too old to nail me against the wall?”
She was baiting me, pushing to get what she wanted, and my cock was so hard from her tone that it was about to rip through my briefs.
“We’re gonna be at it a while, yeah?” I replied, drawing a deep breath in through my nose to calm my breathing. “I want ye spread out and comfortable.”
I dropped my hand to her thigh as she reached the bed, and listened to her breathing speed up as I pushed the nightgown to her waist.
Shorts my arse. They were underwear, and just as I’d imagined, they only covered half of her cheeks.
“Dis comes off,” I rasped, gripping her nightgown and pulling it over her head.
I stopped then. Everything stopped—my hands, my breathing, my heart.
She was everything I’d missed for years, and more than anything I could have imagined.
Her chest was heaving, and her breasts swayed, the hard nipples pointed toward my chest like little beacons. They weren’t as perky as when we were young, but they were heavy and thick and I couldn’t help the sound I made as I stared. I drew my gaze downward, over her oddly shaped bellybutton that I knew came from when she’d carried Nix, and the small white lines that zigzagged their way from the top of her underwear to halfway up her stomach.
