Coming Home to Seashell Harbor (Seashell Harbor #1) - Miranda Liasson Page 0,90

want to kiss every part of you,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to her neck, making her head drop back on the pillow. She was becoming boneless, heat rising everywhere, and she was adrift somewhere, aware of nothing but his kisses, completely transfixed under his spell.

“You can…You don’t have to do a lot of…warm-up. I’m…I’m ready.”

He drew his head up and, frowning a little, assessed her.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

“You never tell a tight end how to catch the ball,” he said softly, stroking her hair. “So let me do what I know how to do, okay?”

“I just didn’t want to take too much time.”

He scowled. “First I’m going to explore every inch of you. And then I’m going to do that over again. All. Night. Long. So there is no such thing as taking too much time.”

“You’re a little cocky,” she said, a fierce blush overtaking her at his words.

“I never brag,” he said solemnly. “I let my actions speak for themselves.”

“I know how to do a few things, too, Mr. Tight End,” she said, running her hands over the contoured muscles of his butt.

He tossed his head back and laughed. From his position over her, he looked at her, quietly assessing. “You’re quivering,” he whispered.

“Just a little,” she said.

He placed her hand on his arm so she could feel the soft covering of hair, the tense length of flexed muscle. “I am too.”

Their gazes locked, and that familiar feeling—connection, acceptance, honesty, despite everything between them—was nothing short of terrifying, and it shook her to the core. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, bending his head to kiss her. She was trembling under his touch, restless, struggling to give him pleasure, too, but he gently brushed her arms away.

“Your turn right now. Let me…let me do this, okay? Tell me if you don’t like it.”

Her hands grazed restlessly over his pecs, his stomach, his back. He was so gentle, so loving, and the worst, most devastating thing…so kind and familiar. Long ago, he’d treated her with the same…reverence—the exact same care he demonstrated with her now—and he was slowly driving her mad.

“I’m ready,” she said, trying to fight the waves of pleasure that were mounting inside of her. “You don’t have to keep—”

“Oh, I’m just getting started.” He flashed a boyish grin. “I have to show you that I learned a thing or two in all this time, don’t I?”

Then the world’s most famous tight end showed her how good he really was at catching the ball and running it over the goal line.

* * *

A long time later, they lay together in the dark, the dogs fast asleep at their feet. Bowie’s soft snores filled the room, and Jagger, who took up almost the entire bottom half of the bed, twitched his limbs, probably dreaming of chasing seabirds in his sleep. But Cam didn’t mind. Hadley lay her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist, their fingers laced together. For the first time in months—since his injury, really—all the noise in his brain had stopped. The noise that told him to hurry up, make a plan, divide and conquer. And the silence had brought a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt in ages.

He glanced down to find her looking up at him. “You’ve gone quiet.”

He always knew when her moods changed, something she’d always had a hard time hiding from him. She gave him a squeeze. “Just thinking how that was pretty good.”

He laughed. “Pretty good? Hmmm. If you’re only going to give me a B, I’m going to have to try harder. Like, right now.”

In one quick move, he rolled them over so he was on top and kissed her neck until she started laughing. “Okay, okay,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to get a big head. It was amazing, all right?” She bit her lip. “How was it for you?”

Couldn’t she tell by the dumb, contented expression that must be all over his face? He’d known good sex but this was great sex coupled with an insatiable, desperate desire to please her in every way he knew and to stay here with her body curled into his. He was dazed. He was drained. He was stupidly happy. “Let’s just say I’m lying here plotting what I can do to get you to call out my name like that again.”

That earned him a punch in the arm.

He saw she was waiting for a real answer. One he was