Just Once More (15 page)

He knew how. He knew exactly how, and he was about to do it some more. He pulled her into his lap, kissed her, then kept doing it, heard the little noises she made into his mouth, the muffled sounds of desire, and his own need twisted up that little bit higher.

Her smart mouth, and her obedient little body. What a delicious combination.

It was the first time he’d kissed her all night, he realized. He hadn’t been too focused on the romance, that was for sure. He had the feeling, as much apologizing as he was making her do tonight, that he was going to have to do some making up of his own later. But that was all right. That would be good too.

“That my prize?” she murmured when he pulled back, her mouth so soft, a little swollen, and that was so good. “I get a kiss for doing so well?”

“Yeh,” he told her, smoothing her hair again. “You were a very good girl. But I was thinking something else. Because you’re still naked.”

“Mm. Because you took all my clothes off.”

“I did. And I’m afraid you’re going to have to keep them off a while longer. And that I’m going to need this again.” He picked up the bra, grabbed her wrists in one hand, in front of her body this time, wrapped the stretchy band around them.

“Koti,” she protested, wriggling in his lap, trying to pull her hands out of his grasp, and if anything had ever been hotter than this, he didn’t know what it would be.

“Shh,” he said, tying the thing more securely. “Last part of your apology. Because I loved this. And you loved it too. Now let’s see just how sorry I can make you.”

He grabbed her hips, held her down. “Quit squirming, baby. You’re going to get all the squirming you can take in a minute here. I promise.”

She was breathing hard again, and damn, but he was turned on. He lifted her easily, turned her to face him.

“Straddle me,” he told her, and she did it.

He had her hips in his hands again, was guiding her onto him, pushing her down, impaling her on him, and bloody hell, but it felt good. So warm, so tight around him.

She let out a long moan as he did it that went straight through him, and that made it even better. Her bound hands forced her to lean forward, lift her arms high, behind his head, rest her elbows against the back of the seat, which put her beautiful little breasts at exactly the right level. He was holding her in place with his hands, his mouth, moving her over him as if all that mattered was what he needed from her. And feeling what that did to her.

Harder now, faster, and she was keening again, letting herself be used for his pleasure, and wanting it that way.

He needed her to come. He needed it now. He was climbing, and it was so much better when she was there too. He got a hand in there, shoved her away from him with the other hand, held her tight, and rubbed.

“Tell me you’re sorry,” he ordered her.

“I’m…sorry,” she gasped.

“Tell me, ‘yes, Koti.’ Tell me to do it. Tell me.”

“Oh…Yes, Koti. I’m sorry. I’m…” She could barely say it. “S-s-sorry. I’m…Please. Do it. Please do it harder.”

The need was hauling at him, grabbing him in an iron fist, squeezing him, pulling him up, and up higher. “Show me. Now.”

“Sorrryyyyyy.”

It was a wail, and she was all the way there, bucking, and he grabbed her hips again, shoved her over him, again and again. Took every last centimeter of her. Took it all the way.

He helped her get dressed again, afterwards. Kissed her, joked, was his usual sweet self. But she was shaken to the core.

He saw it, after a minute. She had a hand on the door handle, wanting to get out, to get into the front, but he scooted over next to her and put a restraining hand on her arm.

“Kate. Wait.”

She turned, and he opened his arms, pulled her into him, and held her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently. “Too rough? Too much after all? You can always say no, baby. You can always say no.”

“That’s not it.” She pulled away from him again, even though being in his arms felt so good. She needed to see his face for this, and for him to see hers. “It’s that I didn’t want to say no.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” he demanded. “‘Yes’ sounded pretty bloody good to me.”

“I don’t know if that’s…” She swallowed. “What that means. I’m not that kind of person.”

“What kind of person?”

She looked straight at him. “A submissive person.”

He didn’t sigh, didn’t look exasperated, to her relief. She couldn’t have handled his dismissing this.

“No,” he said. “You’re not. Except maybe in bed. There, I’d say, yeh, you are. And like I said—works for me. And that’s all that matters. Works for you, works for me. Anything we do together, anything we both want to do, is all right. Sometimes it’ll be sweet. Sometimes it’ll be wild. And sometimes, like tonight, it’ll be right up to our edge. Because we want to. Nobody gets to say but us. Nobody gets to judge but us.”

“You like it the other way, too, right?” she asked. “Sweet?”

“I like it every way we do it,” he promised. “Every single way. There’s never once been a time we’ve made love and I’ve thought, nah, didn’t like that one.”

She laughed, the tension loosening its grip. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“You’re worried about something else too, though,” he said slowly. “You’re worried that I really am saying you’re powerless here. That because I tied you, and you liked it, and I did too, that something’s changed. But it hasn’t.”

“You mean I still get to boss you around sometimes, make you complain?”

“You still get to boss me around. I promise. Long as I get you to boss you around too. Later. Even the score a bit.”

“Oh, new perspective,” she said. “I like that.”

“Mm. Thought you would. And besides,” he went on, so casually that her antennae went straight up, “I thought we wanted another baby. And I was reading up on it. They say the female orgasm may help pull the sperm into the uterus. Just doing my bit to send my boys along their way so they can get the job done.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You did not read that.”

“Yeh,” he said, and there was no doubt about it whatsoever, he was grinning, looking smug. Looking pleased as punch. “I did. Figured, best effort, and all that. Because somebody taught me that. That if I really want something, I need to go after it. Not stop until I get it.”

She sighed, tried to pretend to be annoyed. “So I’m just a baby-makin’ machine, huh? That the deal? That what that was?”

He laughed, gave her a soft kiss, cuddled her close.

“No,” he said when her cheek was pressed to his heart. “You’re the woman who keeps me up to the mark, the one who keeps me on my toes. You’re my gut check and my conscience and my heart. You’re the lover I wanted more than I’ve ever wanted a woman, the one who still sets me on fire.”

He pulled back, tugged her shirt a little straighter, smoothed her hair where their exertions had rumpled it. “And one more thing,” he told her with that smile that still worked so well on her, every single time. “You make a pretty fair baby. And I want you to make mine.”

Reka was lying on the still-made bed with Hemi. On top of the duvet, because they hadn’t even managed to pull it back.

“That was nice,” she sighed. She propped herself on an elbow, traced the whorls of his tattoo on his heavy chest with a finger, following the intricate blue-black pattern laid over his bronzed skin all the way around to the bulk of his shoulder, down his arm. She’d traced it a million times. She could have drawn it by now. And she still loved touching it. His moko. Her man.

She drew a chuckle out of him. His own hand was still moving lazily down her own shoulder blade, all the way to her waist, holding her there. “Nice? I give it that much grunt, and I get ‘nice?’”

“All right,” she said, smiling down at him. “It was awesome. How’s that?”

“Better. I’ll keep thinking those five-weeks-without-you thoughts, that the idea? Or maybe the opposite.” He had that look in his eyes now. “Better yet, we could change it up, challenge ourselves. Always a good way to up your game. Seeing Hugh and Josie, Nate and Ally just starting out—maybe we need to remember how that was. Maybe we should see if we can do it every night for a month. Course, we’d have to get creative, keep from boring ourselves to tears. No more quick-and-easy, get off and go to sleep, just because we know what buttons to push.”

“I like that,” she said, the thought stirring her, because that’s what Hemi still did to her. “A challenge. One night could be your night, next mine. Our choice.”

“Ah.” That was definitely a light in his brown eyes now. “So it’s ask-you-anything time, is it?”

“Choose your own adventure,” she suggested. “You’re on holiday. Why not?”

“And if a kid gets sick, something like that,” he said, “that gets tacked onto the end.”

She sighed. “Coaching again. Rules.”

“Setting expectations.” His hand was on her thigh now, letting her know he still liked touching it, even after four babies. “And we don’t even have to worry about birth
control,” he pointed out. “Total spontaneity, soon as we lock that bedroom door.” Another sigh, this one a heartfelt one. “I love being married.”

“Not what you said after the vasectomy.”

That got a groan out of him. “Because I thought I’d never want to do it again. You just took all the magic out of the moment. Cheers for that.”

She laughed. “Got until tomorrow to get the magic back. Tomorrow your night, or mine?”

“Oh, ladies first,” he said, and she was right, the magic was going to be back. Right back.

“To clarify,” she said, “because I know how you coaches like to have everything clear. ‘My turn’ just means I get to ask for what I want, eh. Even if it’s something you do.”

“Let’s hope so,” he said. “Because my turn is
definitely
going to include some things you do. Even if that’s just ‘bend over.’”

She shivered, and he saw it and smiled. “Because I love that,” he said, giving her bum a healthy slap. “Definitely going to be choosing that a time or two. I do enjoy a holiday project.”

She hummed a bit more, and they got ready for sleep together, crawled under that duvet at last, the nighttime house silent around them.

“That was sweet tonight,” she said when they were lying in the dark, his heavy arm across her chest, holding her safe. Her favorite way to fall asleep. “Hearing about Hannah and Drew. Wasn’t it?”

“Mmm,” he agreed.

“He doesn’t talk much,” she said. “Never has. But he does all the right things.”

“That’s what counts.” He sounded pretty sleepy now.

“Still glad you talk more,” she told him. “But, yeh. You’re right. Talking’s good, but what you do counts more. Knowing that you’re there for me.” She tugged his arm more tightly around herself. “Seeing Drew tonight, how sweet he was, with her so close to the baby…it made me think about when Ariana was born.”

“What did I say then? Can’t remember. Remember crying a bit, that’s all. Don’t think I did much else, other than be terrified and try not to show it.”

“Yeh.” She smiled, there in the dark, snuggled a little closer. “You did cry. And I remember when they put her on my belly, and your hand was on her too. I looked at her and I thought
…
”

“What?”

“I thought,” she said quietly, “look what we have. Not you and me,” she tried to explain. “Her and me. I thought, look at this, baby girl. Look at this man we’ve got. Look at the dad I gave you. Aren’t we the lucky women.”