Her head twisted against the shower wall as cries spilled past her lips.
Then, with a tight, hard surge of his hips, half the heavy length of his cock buried inside her. Then the other half, until she was filled so deep, possessed so fully, she couldn’t imagine ever being without him now.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled as she felt the full, throbbing length of his dick thickening inside her.
“I dreamed of fucking you,” he admitted as he began to move then. “Dreamed of watching my dick stretch your sweet pussy open as it milks my flesh inside it.”
And her flesh was milking his cock. The inner muscles were flexing, rippling, tugging at his flesh as the nerve endings buried there became so sensitive she could barely breathe for the pleasure.
Each thrust filled her, stroked her, heated her.
She was dying for more, dying for him to fuck her harder, faster, to take her with all the pent-up hunger, need, and desperation that burned inside her.
Gripping both her hips now, his lips at her ear, his breath heated and warm, he began moving harder, faster, each stroke burning to the center of her core as she began to sway, to move. Pushing back, she took him harder, her back arching, her fingers curling into fists at the ceramic wall as she felt tightening of pleasure begin in her womb.
The sensations radiated through her. Burning, intense, they flowed through her system, drawing her to her tiptoes and causing her to cry for him again, to beg him to send her over that edge of oblivions.
When it came, she could only collapse again, shaking and shuddering in his grip as she felt the hard, heated spurts of his semen filling her, adding to a pleasure that had already stolen reason and common sense from her mind.
He was her weakness. He was the one person she couldn’t say no to, the one man she couldn’t resist.
Breathing heavily, her knees weak and shaky, she leaned against the wall, fighting to catch her breath. What he did to her should be illegal. She was certain it was illegal somewhere.
“I would have wanted our baby,” he whispered at her ear, his own breathing heavy and rough. “But even more, Cami-love, I would have cherished his mother just as much as I cherish her now.”
And the inner walls came crumbling down around her.
CHAPTER 23
Rafe was aware of the confusion in Cami’s gaze as he pulled the detachable shower from the mount and carefully washed Cami from head to toe.
As he ran the soft, soapy cloth between her thighs to wash away his semen, his gaze flicked to her face. Her expression was somber, her soft gray eyes filled with conflict, with hunger, and with the saddened memories of all she had lost.
“I should have never let you run as I did,” he whispered as he knelt in front of her, running the suds-filled cloth along her soft thighs, then across the gentle curves of her pussy.
He knew if he touched her flesh it would be softer than the rich lather covering it, silkier, warmer.
“You didn’t let me do anything, Rafe,” she assured him. “I do as I wish.”
He let a grin tug at his lips. The fire inside her was often hidden, that temper that he knew she had often controlled and tempered with her compassion. But it was there, just waiting to flare free.
She was independent, but she’d had no choice in adapting to independence. What she didn’t know was that all that lovely independence was perfect; it was fine. But he possessed her. She was his, from her very lithe, sexy body to the depths of her fragile feminine soul. She belonged to him.
She sensed it, though he doubted she had considered the consequences of it.
He wouldn’t stand back and allow her to slip away in those hours before dawn any longer. He wouldn’t allow her bed to be separate from his, and he sure as hell had no intentions of allowing her life to be separate from his.
Leaning forward, he laid a gentle kiss against her hip, his lips lingering against the almond-fragrant flesh as her fingers threaded hesitantly into his hair.
When he pulled back to stare up at her, it was to see the storm raging in her gaze and in her emotions as she watched him.
“What makes you think you could have changed any of the decisions I’ve made?” she asked him then. “It wasn’t your choice, Rafe. It was mine.”
If that was what she wanted to believe, then that was fine. He’d let her run scared, thinking she needed to realize things on her own, to live, to be certain of the future she wanted. He had never imagined that she would have seen it as his disinterest.
The fact that she hadn’t told him about their child proved that was exactly how she had seen it.
“I let you run,” he told her firmly. “I knew you were avoiding me. Just as I knew you were no longer letting your friends know your schedule when you came home from school.”
Awareness flickered in her gaze then. “It wasn’t a coincidence that you were always there.”
“You’ve always said you don’t believe in coincidence,” he reminded her. “I thought you would have figured it out.”
“You always knew when I was coming home and when and where to meet me,” she whispered.
“I’m smart like that,” he agreed. “Then you stopped informing your friends of your schedule or posting it to the Web journal you kept. You started avoiding me. I should have put a stop to it then. I would have, if I’d even considered the possibility that we would fall in that one percentile where the pill you were taking would fail.”
“I had the dosage increased when I heard you were back in town,” she admitted as he looked at her again. “I think I knew I couldn’t stay away from you.”
“I wouldn’t have allowed you to stay away from me.”
He’d been growing tired of waiting for her. If she hadn’t shown up during that blizzard, then he would have shown up on her doorstep afterward, and he knew it.
Directing the spray at her thighs, he gently rinsed the soap from her flesh as he parted the delicate folds and watched as streams of water ribboned over her belly where he directed the spray, between her thighs, over the silken folds of her pussy.
Lather washed over her thighs, along her legs, and to the shower floor below. The thick suds caressed her flesh and were washed away as the scent of sweet almonds filled the air. He’d never thought almonds could be so damned sexy.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’m not finished yet,” he told her, and he wasn’t. “Do you think a quickie in the shower is enough for me? Was it enough for you?”
It wasn’t enough for her. He could see the embers of need still glowing in her eyes and in the response of her body.
Tonight was theirs.
Tonight he would make up for everything he’d never been able to have with her. It was for all the nights they had been apart. It was for all the regret that had filled them both for so long.
It was for all the nights she had slipped out before dawn, all the nights he hadn’t been certain if she was adventurous enough, experienced enough, for the hungers that swirled inside him. It was for all the years they had been apart whenever he had longed to touch her. Whenever she wasn’t in the room with him. Whenever he thought about her. Ached for her. Dreamed of her.
Hell, for all the nights he simply hungered for her, and those hungers were often darker, more sexual and erotic, than he’d shown her thus far.
“Could it ever be enough then?” Confusion darkened her eyes as he watched her face flush in response to the stream of spray he directed over the soft pink bud of her clit.
“I doubt it, but we’ll find out, love,” he agreed, running his fingers over the soft pad of flesh. “We have a few things to clear up here, and tomorrow we’ll talk, and we’ll clear up the rest.”