Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,67

that tattoo.

I'll always need to make sure she's pasted back together.

"Do you ever think about talking to your birth mom?" she asks.

What the fuck? "To do what?"

"It weighs on you. The way she let you go so easily. Maybe she had her reasons. Maybe she still loves you."

I shake my head. The gondola is turning. Feels like the whole fucking world is turning.

Why would I want to talk to my birth mom? Why'd you let your boyfriend beat me when he came down off his meth high? isn't exactly productive conversation.

There's nothing to say. I meant nothing to her. Nobody thought anything of me until Ophelia.

There aren't many people who care about me, about the real guy and not the celebrity, but there are enough.

Willow is enough.

But what the hell is she getting at? "Why are you bringing this up?"

Her brow knits. "Thinking about family and Christmas. Things are changing. Drew and Kara are having a baby. And I... I've never liked Christmas. Lots of bad memories. My parents always fought like cats and dogs."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "This is our first Christmas together."

"We're gonna celebrate with our friends."

"Is that enough?"

"You're all I need, Willow." Even if I've got no fucking idea what she's after.

She nods, but I'm not sure I buy it.

Still, I pull her closer. It makes my whole body warm. It's not just heat, not just how much I want her athletic body under mine, her hazel eyes filled with pleasure.

Don't just want to fuck her.

I want to make love to her.

Want to savor every single second of it.

I don't even care that make love is the cheesiest phrase in the history of the universe.

"We're really grown-ups, huh?" she asks.

"Speak for yourself, kid. I'm a rock star."

"You do your new manager's job."

"Only till he learns."

"What a load!" She laughs. "You're going to do it forever."

"You run your own photography studio."

"True."

"You're grown up."

She turns to me. "You are too."

"We should celebrate with some grown up fun." Need whatever it is she's getting at gone. Need everything between us gone. Need every inch of her pressed against me.

She smiles sheepishly. Her gaze passes over me, stopping at my chest, then making its way back to my eyes. "Are you sure Ophelia won't mind?"

"She already texted, telling me to go fuck my wife."

"She did not."

I show Willow the evidence.

She laughs. "Well, ignoring her advice would be rude."

"Don't have to convince me."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tom

It's a ten-minute walk back to our hotel room. I'm in no mood for celebrity shit. I keep my hood and my sunglasses on. Fuck looking like a tool. Nothing is getting in the way of me connecting with Willow.

Nothing is getting in the way of me reminding her how good sex feels.

Or reminding myself.

Never felt shit beyond pleasure during sex before. But with her... with her, I feel everything.

With her, I'm whole.

It's fucking cheesy shit, but I don't care. I need our bodies locked together.

I need her eyes glued to mine as she screams my name.

God dammit, I need her screaming my name.

She clings to my waist. She's brighter now. She's smiling. But there's something there. And I need that something gone.

Finally, we get to our hotel room. I unlock the door and push it open. No wasting time. I slide my hands around her hips and pin her to the door.

She looks up at me with hungry eyes. Her hand slides around my neck. Her touch is soft, affectionate.

No more words. No more questions about what it is that's on her mind. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's using my body to get the message across.

She rises to her tiptoes to press her lips into mine. God damn, her lips are soft, and she kisses me like she'll never get enough of it.

I won't ever get enough of it either.

I slide my tongue into her mouth. I want to take my time with her, to get her panting and desperate before I give her what she's craving, but I need this now.

She arches her back, moaning into my mouth and digging her fingertips into my skin. Her hands go to the back of my head. She holds me close, kissing me harder and deeper.

When the kiss breaks, she stares at me. Her hazel eyes are filled with need. "Fuck me, Tom. Now."

"Fuck yes." I don't waste any time. I do away with my hoodie. Then my t-shirt.

She presses her palms against my chest. Her eyes fill with need as she rakes her hands over my torso. Her