Page 64 of Fall Love

He turns off the now browned beef and circles the kitchen island, coming up behind me.

“We need more orgasm practice.”

“This isn’t like learning to ride a bike,” I tease, as his hands come to my elbows and he rubs up my arms.

He sets his mouth at my ear. “But I want you to ride my face.”

“I’d smother you.” I’m suddenly even larger than I was days before, even more uncomfortable with the weight.

He buries his nose in my neck and inhales. “You smell like apples and cinnamon.”

“I smell like onions and green peppers.”

“Both things I love to eat.”

I chuckle until he sucks at the side of my neck, licking down it to the collar of my shirt. He tugs it aside and nips the juncture of my neck and shoulder. My knees give out, and I slap at the island surface.

He spins me to face him, then leans over me, cups my jaw with one hand, and kisses me. His tongue is a promise of what he intends to do lower on my body. The sweep and the lick and a little flick.

I melt beneath his mouth, clutching at his shoulders to hold me steady.

When he pulls back, I’m dazed, flustered by the rush up my middle.

He spins me around again, my hands landing on the island once more. He slips his hand underneath my belly and straight between my legs, where I’m hot and damp already.

He presses kisses against my neck again, using his teeth for a little sting. Then he clamps his teeth gently on the edge of my ear.

“Anyone who doesn’t fall in love with you in one night is a fool, Neve.”

He releases my ear, and I try to look at him, but he’s already tugging off the flannel shirt I’m wearing over an overstretched male tank top. He returns to my neck, cups one heavy breast with his hand, and gives it a sharp tug at the same time he nips me. A strange sensation spreads across my chest. An electric current that shoots lower.

When he slips his hand into my loose pants, he slides right between my legs, shoving aside the wet scrap of fabric covering where I’m most needy.

“Soaked again,” he whispers proudly, like he knows the effect he has on me.

He taps my ankles with his bare foot, and I spread my legs wider. He settles in behind me, bending his knees and wedging himself against the crack of my ass. I arch into him.

His fingers are swift to fill me, and I surge backward one more time, until we suddenly have a rhythm. Him working against me from behind, just like he would if he were entering me. I rub against the hard length pressed against my cheeks while he drags his fingers in and out of me, filling me with those two digits.

“Holy goddess,” I whimper. “This feels so good.”

He smiles against my neck. “Just imagine if it were something else. Another part of me filling you up.”

“Yes,” I whisper, although I’m not ready to trade the position I’m in. His fingers are a wonder, and when he adds the heel of his hand, pressing right where I need him most, I rock harder against him.

“That’s it, baby. Ride my hand, like you might ride my face.”

I want that. I want to straddle his head and rock over his tongue. And . . .

“Tate?” My voice hitches. My hips roll back. He presses forward. We grind harder against one another.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “I’m right here.”

He is here, and he’s so good at this.

I clutch the island harder. I can’t press any lower, my belly in the way, but it doesn’t matter. Tate has found a way to get at me and rock into me from behind. Back and forth, we dance, until I rise up on my toes.

“Tate.” I cry out his name like it encompasses all my feelings, all the sensations. I ride those fingers and smack the island again before I scream his name one more time.