Page 59 of A Hard Habit to Break

“My turn,” he groused, tangling his fingers in her thick curls. He gave a gentle tug.

The second she released him, he melted his mouth to hers, stroking deep. He trailed kisses down her neck. When her back arched, he accepted her offering, sucking her tender peaks between his teeth.

He licked and nibbled until she writhed beneath him. Her soft moans were music to his ears. The more he stoked the flames of her desire, the hotter the fire in his loins burned. As he witnessed her arousal build, delicate breath by breath, his hunger to take her as his grew.

“Noah, please.”

The words were broken and demanding. He understood her craving. It matched his own.

“Can’t refuse you anything,” he mouthed. Reaching under the couch cushion, he produced a condom.

Rachel’s voice quivered, when she said, “I don’t want to know.”

Good, ’cause whatever happened before her was irrelevant. Through lowered lashes, she watched as he sheathed his member. In this moment, Noah’s entire mind, body, and soul existed for one reason. Give Rachel Johnson an orgasm worth remembering. When he nudged her center with his erection, she shuddered with anticipation.

He entered her on a smooth, long thrust. The abrupt gasp, the tightening of her inner walls on his length—heaven sent.

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

She obeyed. Her long limbs relaxing, giving, surrendering. Every fiber in Noah’s body opened, and a flood of pleasure ignited. Rachel must have felt the change in him.

“Move with me,” he managed to push out. Whatever he’d shared with the opposite sex before paled in comparison to being with the one. And he had no doubt that Rachel had been fashioned, carved, built for him. Every touch, every sensation, only heightened his pleasure. Being inside Rachel was like giving a thirsty man, lost in a desert, his first taste of cool water. Her love filled him. The satisfaction of connecting with a woman who wanted, no, demanded everything of him. Noah had the other part of his soul, and he wouldn’t lose the good woman he’d found.

What followed was a claiming, pure and simple. Years of wanting and denying, circling each other, finally culminated in desperate touches and whispered promises.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Noah’s elbow knocked over a lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. They froze for a moment, then Rachel started laughing. It was a breathless, joyful sound that made his heart race even faster.

“Smooth,” she gasped.

“I’m out of practice with audience participation,” he admitted, kissing her neck.

“Good,” she said, pulling him back down to her. “I’d hate to think you’d been rehearsing this with your furniture.”

Their bodies came together in a fiery embrace that ignited something primal within him. The air crackled with electricity as they moved together, each touch sending shivers down his spine. Her hands roamed over his body.

Later—much later—they lay tangled together on the rug, both breathing hard, sweat cooling on their skin. Rachel’s head rested on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his stomach.

“We should get out of this cabin,” she murmured against his skin.

“That’s not in the plan,” he said, his arm tightening around her. “Sunday is a day of worship. And I’m going to praise your beautiful body all day while you bless my name with more of your screaming orgasms.”

“Hey, those screams go both ways.”

“Then we should probably invest in some actual food. And maybe a less destructible coffee maker.”

She lifted her head to regard him, hair mussed, lips swollen from his kisses, looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. “All day is a long time, Noah. You sure you can handle me for that long?”

He reached up and carefully removed the lampshade, setting it aside. “I’m keeping you, Six. Forever this time. Expired condiments and all.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, though she was already kissing his neck, making thinking difficult.

“To bed,” he said. “Don’t try to escape. We have years to make up for.”

“What about breakfast?”

“We’ll eat later,” he promised, taking the stairs two at a time. “Much later.”

With care, he laid the woman designed for him on their bed, watching the morning light dance across her skin as the rest of the world faded away. The birds’ serenade outside, the trickling of the wind through tall grass, even ClamClam’s occasional protests from wherever she’d sulked off to. There was only this—Rachel in his arms, the weight of her body against his, and the promise of forever stretching out before them like an unfinished sketch waiting to be revealed.