“What’s wrong?” she murmurs, turning around to look at me, hair messy around her shoulders.
The urge to run my hands through it grabs me with insistent hands.
“The door is busted,” I growl. “And that piece of shit might come back. You’ve got no idea how badly I need to taste you, Tess. But I’m not having some other motherfucker getting a look or a listen.”
“Ooh, so you’re jealous.”
“Possessive,” I snarl. “There’s a difference.”
“You hear that Giz?” she giggles, the most beautiful sound in the world. She rubs the dog’s belly as his little furry legs stick up in the air. “Tanner Telford wants to possess me. Shall we let him?”
I laugh, shaking my head ruefully. “Let me? I think we both know we’re too far gone for that.”
She makes a moaning, whimpering noise, similar to the one she made in the car. For a blissful moment she bites her lip, and then she lets it go, seeming annoyed with herself for the gesture.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” she says. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve never seemed to experience what everyone else seems to be living through, you know? I was always on the sidelines, reading, later writing—or trying to write. And then the years went by and suddenly I’m a twenty-one year old virgin.”
“You don’t have to explain or apologize,” I tell her, moving back to the couch, but careful to keep some distance between us unless the claim-her-now beast within takes control again.
“It is old though, right?” she murmurs. “To be a virgin, I mean.”
I shrug. “I don’t give a damn, that’s all I know,” I tell her. “I just can’t wait to feel how tight and wet you are for me. I can’t wait to dive into you deeply, to feel your womb, making your pussy hungry for me. I can’t wait to dive in and—Fuck, I need to stop. I’m driving myself crazy here.”
“And me,” she whispers. “Oh, God. But what if I’m not good enough?”
“Good enough for what?”
She shoots me a look. “The sex, Tanner. The sex and everything before the sex, if you catch my drift.”
“You’re not auditioning,” I tell her. “I won’t be judging you. And, anyway, you don’t need to worry about that. Our bodies know what to do. We didn’t have to write a script for that kiss, did we? But it felt fucking amazing. Everything else will be the same, I promise. And I’m here to guide you. Trust me, Tess, with that smoking body and just how gorgeous and cute you are, we’re going to be more than fine. We’re going to be perfect.”
“Smoking body,” she murmurs. “Now you’re joking.”
“Am I?” I say.
“Yes,” she snaps with passion, glancing at me sharply. “I’m one step above curvy, let’s just be real about it.”
“What?” I say, confusion moving through me.
Is she joking?
“What do you mean—what?” she says. “I’m not what you’d call thin, am I?”
“Who the fuck told you that you needed to be thin to be gorgeous?” I growl. “Who told you that your body was anything less than perfect? I love your curves, Tess. I love how full you look. I love the feel of your juicy ass, the flesh there to be grabbed, played with. I love your hips, perfect for grabbing as I ram into you and for bearing children. You’re the full package.”
I stand up again.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To get you packed,” I tell her. “I hope you’ve got a suitcase lying around here somewhere. I need something to distract me from how beautiful you look right now.”
“You’re kidding,” she says.
“Nope.”
Her cheeks glow as she stands. “Can I get that address first … you know, for Kait?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “I’ll call the security, too.”
I give her the address and she texts her friend, and then I make a quick phone call to the building security.
Then I walk into her bedroom to find a tattered suitcase laid on the bed, Tess transferring paperbacks from a big pile next to it.
“I think you’ll need more than books, Tess,” I laugh.
“And this is coming from a bestselling writer,” she giggles. “You hear that, Giz? We read too much.”
Gizmo’s tongue lolls out and he glances at me, grinning.
“I said no such thing, little man,” I say, leaning down to stroke his furry chin. “It’s just that unless Tess wants to walk around naked the entire time – which is fine with me, but which her friend might resent – she might want to make some room …”
She tosses up her hands, aiming another mock withering look at me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes radiant, every aspect of her proclaiming, I am the mother of your children, I am the woman you’ve been waiting for.
“What the heck am I supposed to do?” she asks. “These books were my only friends, once.”