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  I turned my head and gave it to him.

  He took it. His hand on mine stroked down, then up and down again. My thumb slid in a circle around the silky tip.

  So silky, vaguely I wondered how something so hard could feel like satin.

  It didn’t matter because it was beautiful and it was hot. God, so hot. Amazing. Touching him was almost better than him touching me (almost).

  At my touch, Chace groaned into my mouth.

  Hotter!

  “Chace,” I whispered against his lips, my body pressing upwards, my legs moving restlessly. His hand pulled mine gently away from his cock, up over his belly and around his back while his lips went to my ear.

  “Faye, baby, right now, I’m gonna taste you. This means my mouth is gonna work between your legs. You’re gonna come in my mouth, honey, then I’m gonna take you. You ready for more?”

  Oh heck yes.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “Cute, hot, fuck,” he whispered back. Then he did as he said, moving down, not fast, not slow, his mouth on me, his hands on me, pulling my nightie up under my breasts, tugging down my panties, he slid off to the side.

  His lips made it to my belly where he kissed me then he pulled my panties down my legs. I lifted my knees to assist, he yanked them free of my ankles then they were gone.

  He positioned, his hands on the insides of my knees, putting mild pressure there as he urged gently, “Open for me.”

  Hesitantly, hot, bothered, excited, restless but also a little scared, I did as he asked.

  “That’s it,” he whispered.

  I felt his lips on the inside of my knee where his hand was then they moved down the inside of my thigh, down, down. I tensed. I braced, my legs started trembling as his lips made their journey.

  Then he was there.

  God.

  Oh God.

  God, God, God.

  That was… it was…

  Indescribable.

  My fingers curled into the sheets, my feet went into the bed and my hips moved with his mouth.

  One of his hands moved under me, cupping my behind, helping me, pulling me up as the fingertips of his other hand slid feather light on the inside of my thigh.

  Okay, this was better than his finger (maybe). This was fan-fraking-tastic.

  Tremors chased themselves down my legs, my belly dropped, my breasts swelled, my fingers clenched the sheets and then it happened.

  “Honey,” I whimpered, my back arched, my neck arched, it rushed over me, tore through me and I came.

  Really, fraking hard.

  Still coming, vaguely, I felt his lips brush my belly. I felt his hands close my legs. Then he was gone.

  I was swimming out of it when he was back, his hands back at my knees, pressing and he didn’t have to urge me this time. They opened for him as my eyes fluttered open and I saw his shadow on his knees between my legs.

  One of his hands was at my knee, drifting down the top of my thigh, his other hand was doing something and before I got myself together, he fell forward between my legs into his hand at my side. Then he dropped down to a forearm and I had his weight.

  I liked this too.

  No, loved it.

  He felt fantastic.

  His head came down, his lips to my neck and he whispered, “You good?”

  “Oh yeah,” I whispered back and felt another smile.

  Then he said softly, “I’ll go slow, baby. No matter what, no matter that we’re here, you need me to stop, I’ll stop.”

  I had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. As far as I was concerned, he could do whatever he wanted.

  Regardless, since he seemed to be waiting for answer, I said, “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he said against my neck then I knew what he was talking about because I felt him guide the tip of his cock against me.

  He hesitated for just a moment.

  And I got it. I understood.

  And he was going to get it.

  And he was going to get it because it was his.

  I turned my head so my lips were at his ear and I urged, “Take it.”

  Under my hands it occurred to me that his body felt weirdly like it was straining.

  “Take it,” I repeated softly.

  I felt the tip nudge inside.

  “I’ll go slow,” he replied, his voice so low it was like a groan and he eased out then he eased just the tip back in.

  “Come inside, Chace,” I whispered.

  “You’re so tight, baby, don’t wanna hurt you.”

  My arms grew tight, my thighs pressed into his hips and I told him the truth.

  “Honey, come inside, take it, it’s yours.”

  “Faye –”

  “Now.”

  “Baby –”

  “Please.”

  His hand moved from between us up my belly and around, to become an arm around my waist and he slid in a little deeper.

  Okay, oh God, that felt good.

  His lips moved up my neck and his cock slid even deeper.

  Okay, right, wow, that felt better.

  His tongue moved down my neck and he slid in deeper.

  Oh God, all right, even better.

  He slid in deeper and then he, again, stopped and eased back out.

  Wow, wow, fabulous.

  “Chace,” I whispered, my hands drifting over the skin of his back. “Do you need me to do anything?”

  “No, baby.” His voice was low, hoarse, beyond thick, sounding pained.

  “Come inside,” I breathed in his ear. “Take me, honey, I’m yours.”

  That did it.

  He surged up, his mouth came to mine as my body settled and I felt him inside, all the way, full of him, connected to Chace. Finally.

  Beautifully.

  Me full of Chace, the best feeling in the whole fraking world.

  “Fuck, baby, I gotta move,” he groaned.

  “Move,” I encouraged and he moved, his thrusts controlled, fluid, rhythmic and very, very nice.

  Oh God, why hadn’t I been doing this for longer?

  As he moved, his thrusts going faster, still controlled, his arm moved from around my waist, in over my belly and down and I felt his thumb right where I didn’t know it needed to be until it was there.

  Oh God, seriously, I’d been missing out.

  My mouth opened under his as my hips surged up.

  “Wrap your legs around me, Faye, hold on tight,” Chace ordered, I wrapped my legs around his hips and his thumb pressed deeper and circled.

  Holy frak.

  “Yes,” I breathed into his mouth.

  His tongue slid into mine.

  He moved. He pressed. He circled. His tongue matched his thrusts. My skin tingled. Tremors shot through my system. My blood, already fired, went molten. I kissed Chace back and my hand slid down to cup his behind and urge him to give me more.

  He gave me more, faster, harder, oh yes, amazing.

  Chace tore his mouth from mine, buried his face in my neck and I heard both of our heavy breaths as he groaned into my skin, “Jesus, fuck, so sleek, so tight, fuckin’, fuckin’ beautiful.”

  “Honey,” I breathed, the word hitched in the middle because his thrusts had increased in power and were jolting my body. My hand not at his behind slid up his spine, into his hair and fisted in an effort to hold on.

  I gave another hitched breath, this one for a different reason and I continued to receive Chace’s thrusts but his forearm went out of the bed so I also took his weight. His hand went to mine at his behind, his fingers curling around my wrist, he pulled it away, up, slid his hand into mine, laced our fingers then, still thrusting, he planted his forearm back into the bed but holding my hand.

  Holding my hand.

  Holding my hand.

  Hard. Tight. Fingers laced.

  Like he’d never let go.

  Suddenly, like a shot, it hit me, my legs and arms tensed and I cried out as I came again. Not harder, not longer but for some rea
son way, way sweeter.

  When I came down, his thumb was gone, his arm shoved under me, his hand curled around the back of my neck and his mouth came to mine as he kept thrusting, deeper, deeper, God, I loved having him inside me.

  Then his hips bucked into mine, stayed planted, he groaned into my mouth and I loved that even more.

  Nearly instantly, his lips left mine, slid across my cheek and I heard his labored breathing in my ear as I felt mine even out.

  We were lying in the dark in the middle of night but everything about that moment I felt with a clarity I’d never had before.

  Everything.

  His weight on me, our bodies connected, his hand warm at my neck, fingers wrapped firm around the back, our fingers laced in the bed, his breath sounding in my ear, drifting across my skin, his weight on me, his thick, soft hair in my hand, my legs wrapped around him.

  I hoped I never forgot that, any of it, not any of it, for the rest of my life.

  I’d given Chace Keaton my virginity like I decided I wanted to do at the age of sixteen.

  He took it and, before, gave me two orgasms and during, gave me another one.

  And when I had mine and he had his, he held my hand.

  Overwhelmed by all of it, the beauty of it, having what I’d dreamed of for years, having it be better than my dreams in a big way, the tears hit the backs of my eyes. I didn’t even try to stop my mouth when my head turned so I could find his ear.

  “When I was sixteen, I saw you and when I did, I was young, romantic, and it might sound stupid but the minute I saw you, I knew I wanted to give that to you. I knew it was only you. I waited thirteen years, honey. It was worth the wait.”

  His body stilled over mine and my heart clenched.

  Oh frak, that was too much.

  Oh frak! Maybe the first time couples did it, they didn’t share deep, romantic secrets.

  Frak!

  His hand slid from my neck as I tensed, uncertain what do, unable to escape him seeing as he was on me and in me. I had nowhere to go and no hope of getting there even if I had somewhere to go.

  His body shifted slightly then the light came on.

  I blinked at the sudden brightness.

  Then I focused.

  When I did, I stared.

  The tears pooled in my eyes instantly at what I saw and mere moments later, slid out the sides.

  Because his eyes were gazing in mine. His beautiful blue eyes, in his handsome face, on top of his amazing body. The eyes of a man who was all man.

  And they were wet.

  Oh my fraking God.

  His hand came to my jaw, cupping it, his thumb sweeping across my cheekbone but he didn’t watch his thumb. His eyes never left mine and he didn’t hide it, he didn’t fight it.

  I gave him my virginity.

  He gave that to me.

  It was the most beautiful gift I’d ever received.

  Then he whispered, “I wanna see to you. Will you let me do that, Faye?”

  I’d let him do anything.

  Anything.

  Even though I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  His head dropped and, his lips on mine, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  Then he touched his mouth to mine, gently, slowly slid out and he saw to me.

  This being, he rolled out of bed, carefully gathering me in his arms and taking me with him. He then carried me to the bathroom and set my booty on the vanity counter. It was dark, only the light from the bedroom lighting the space. I saw his semi-shadow moving around as he turned on the taps of the tub. Then he moved to the little room that held the toilet, I heard it flush and he came back into the room.

  The subdued light shown on his naked body and I had my first glimpse of all that was Chace.

  It was no less beautiful than my thirteen years of imagining made it out to be, broad shoulders, wide wall of chest, defined collarbone, muscled thighs, ridged abs, slim hips, cut hipbones.

  But the sexy sprinkling of chest hair that spread out under his collarbone, over his pectorals, ribs, belly and led to the thicker hair above and around his beautiful cock was a bonus I didn’t expect.

  He stopped in front of me at the basin, gently pulled my nightie from under my booty and I held my breath as I lifted my arms and he tugged it off.

  Before I could be embarrassed about being naked in front of him, he lifted me in his arms again and set me on my feet beside the tub. Then he guided me and we climbed and settled in together, Chace behind me, his legs surrounding me, knees bent, me reclining between them back against his chest as the tub filled with hot, soothing water.

  “Just relax, Faye,” he urged gently, his arms circling me, one at my ribs, one at my chest.

  “Okay,” I whispered and it wasn’t a lie. It was impossible not to relax in that shadowed room, in that hot water with Chace all around me after having two orgasms.

  “You’re beautiful, baby,” he said softly in my ear, one of his hands gliding over my belly. I suspected, through the shadows and over my shoulder, he was looking at me.

  God, I hoped he thought so.

  “Okay,” I repeated quietly, not as sure about that one.

  “All mine,” he muttered. “Christ, finally, all mine.”

  I closed my eyes, pulled in breath and relaxed deeper against his chest.

  I felt him shift, his lips at my neck he kept muttering, “Thirteen years, all mine.”

  That meant something, what I said to him. I knew it. Since after I said it, he showed me by making himself vulnerable to me, I knew it had to mean a lot.

  But his words made me realize it meant a lot.

  And that meant a lot to me.

  I swallowed and turned my head toward his lips. They touched my forehead then his arms gave me a squeeze.

  The tub filled.

  When it was time, Chace moved us both forward and turned off the taps then settled us back. When we were settled, his hands glided over my wet skin, light, sweet, soothing, lovely.

  The water, the orgasms, Chace and his hands, any vestiges of tension left me. I melted into him in the semi-dark.

  His hands stopped roaming, both his arms wrapped around me and we sat in the tub, silent, together.

  That was, we did until I drifted off to sleep, my arms over Chace’s, my head turned, my forehead tucked in his throat.

  I didn’t know if I was asleep for an hour or two minutes before we were up then I was up as in, again cradled in his arms.

  He was gentle and quick with toweling me off and pulling the nightgown over my head.

  He did the same with himself but quicker then I was back up and he was carrying me to the bed where he laid me. I watched in sleepy fascination as he pulled on a pair of burgundy, flannel, drawstring pajama bottoms.

  Drowsily, I decided he was hot naked. He was hot in clothes. He was also hot in pajama bottoms.

  Not a surprise.

  He came to my side and switched off the light then I heard it as he rounded the bed and I rolled as he did. The bed moved as I watched his shadow enter it. He flicked the covers over us and he stretched out on his back.

  But he didn’t settle on his back because I felt his hand shove under me and I was hauled to his side. His arm curled me close, pressed tight down his side and I had no choice (not that I would take another one) but to rest my cheek on his shoulder and snake my arm across his flat abs.

  “So you’re a cuddler?” I whispered.

  “No,” he replied.

  I blinked at the shadowed planes and angles of his chest.

  “Uh…”

  “Or I wasn’t until about two seconds ago.”

  My belly melted and my heart flipped.

  “You move away from me, Faye, you’ll be right back where you are right now,” he warned, his voice quiet, soft but low and serious.

  Weird.

  Hot and sweet.

  But weird.

  “Okay,” I whispered.

  “Yo
u stay close,” he ordered.

  “Okay, honey.”

  “Okay,” he muttered and his arm around me got tighter.

  My arm around his gut gave him a squeeze.

  He fell silent.

  I stared at his chest.

  Then I called, “Chace?”

  “Yeah?”

  I licked my lips.

  Then I said quietly, “Thank you for making that beautiful.”

  He said nothing.

  Then he rolled into me, pressing a knee between my legs so I was forced to hook one around his hip and both his arms gathered me close and held me tight.

  “Sleep, baby,” he whispered and now his voice was quiet but hoarse.

  “Okay. ‘Night, honey.”

  One of his hands slid up my spine and into my damp hair then it slid through.

  And back.

  Then he whispered, “’Night, baby.”

  His hand slid through my hair.

  And again.

  Moments later I fell asleep pressed deep and held tight to Chace Keaton.

  Chapter Ten

  Halfway Gone

  Chace’s eyes opened and he blinked away sleep.

  The strong Colorado sun was fighting his curtains and, as usual, winning.

  Chace felt his body get tight.

  Something was wrong.

  He stared across the pillows at the empty bed.

  He was on his side, one hand shoved under the pillow at his head, his other arm thrown wide.

  No Faye.

  Instantly, it felt like a hand reached in and gripped his gut in an iron tight fist.

  Not a man prone to fanciful thoughts, not one he could recall in his life, it still hit him that the way his life had swirled down the toilet, it wouldn’t be a surprise that the last three weeks had been a dream. A cruel, twisted, dream.

  A taste of sweet.

  The touch of an angel.

  A trace of a miracle.

  Then gone.

  He smelled bacon frying.

  The moment he did, he rolled, threw back the covers, angled out of bed and prowled out of the room, down the hall, through the arch and toward the kitchen where he took five steps then stopped dead.

  Because Faye Goodknight was standing at his stove at the island.

  Faye Goodknight.

  In his house.

  In his kitchen.

  At his stove.

  All this the morning after she gave him her virginity and spent the night in his arms in his bed.