left in the fridge. He was sure she was hungry. But he loved the sound of her guffaws. She held her belly and howled and before long, he couldn’t help but crack a smile. Then laugh with her, hysterically until tears streamed down his cheeks.
He hadn’t laughed in…years.
It felt good.
So good.
When they finally came up for air, they made breakfast together with the last of the eggs. Then they built a fire to cut the chill, curled up together on the couch, and shared a plate, Biby skulking over Lyssa’s shoulder hoping for a tidbit, and Bo drooling on Wade’s thigh.
It was nice. Warm. Comfortable.
And if not for his aching cock, he could have remained curled up with her all day, doing nothing. The vision, the thought, the prospect of making love with her, truly and completely, had nested in his brain. He could think of little else.
So when their plate was empty, he set it on the floor. Both Biby and Bo went for it. But Wade ignored them. He wrapped his arms around Lyssa and pulled her more fully onto his lap, and kissed her.
The kiss started soft and gentle, but it wasn’t long before hunger rose in both of them. He loved her responses, soft sighs, gentle nips, and tentative caresses. As she became bolder, so did he.
He eased a palm up her thigh, over her belly, and then cupped her breast. Ah. How magnificent. That tantalizing curve, the pert, pouting nipple. When he raked her with a thumb, she whimpered.
So he did it again.
He left her mouth, made his way over her cheek to nibble on her earlobe, and then dipped in to nuzzle her neck. She smelled fantastic there. He wasn’t sure what it was, the scent. It was probably just her . But it lit a fire in his gut.
His fingers tightened on her nipple. It was probably a purely reflex action, a response to the sheer delight curling through him, but the result was delicious. She arched and moaned and rubbed against him.
“God, I want you, Lyssa,” he murmured.
“Mmm.”
Was that consent? He was certain it was.
He shifted and eased her back onto the sofa, not breaking contact with an inch of her. Then he covered her.
The sofa was too short. He’d have to talk to Val about that—later. For now, he didn’t care. He arranged himself on it, over her, as best he could. Even then, he had to brace himself with one knee on the floor.
But his hands were free. As he kissed her, he caressed and explored.
Because he couldn’t resist, he nibbled his way over her collarbone to her chest. Then, catching her gaze, he lifted her cami and—
Holy God.
Her breasts were perfect. Small, but full. Round and firm. The engorged nipples, pink and pert, snared his attention. He swallowed the drool collecting in his mouth and cupped her, one mound in each hand.
She watched, eyes glittering and lips parted.
He squeezed, gently, and then massaged the tips in tandem. Her breath caught. Damn, she was a tantalizing sight. Unable to resist any longer, he tasted her. His tongue rasped over one beaded nipple. Then the other. He held her still as he lapped and sucked and nibbled.
When he caught her between his teeth, she cried out and writhed beneath him, her thigh massaged his aching cock. Was she aware her thigh was massaging his cock?
Shit, he didn’t care. It felt fantastic. He nudged against her and rubbed harder. There was nothing between them but a pair of sweats and Yoga pants. Yet it was too much. Far too much between them.
With a growl, he yanked down the elastic band of her pants. Tore them off and tossed them away. She helped, in a fashion, wriggling madly to be free of the restriction. He could have done without her help, but he managed and—
His heart stalled at the vision before him.
Lyssa, her hair wild and rumpled, lounging on the sofa with her shirt bunched above her breasts and her lower body bare. His attention fixed on her nest, and even as he watched, she parted her legs.
His pulse jack-hammered. His cock thrummed. Lust howled through him like a hot and
He hadn’t laughed in…years.
It felt good.
So good.
When they finally came up for air, they made breakfast together with the last of the eggs. Then they built a fire to cut the chill, curled up together on the couch, and shared a plate, Biby skulking over Lyssa’s shoulder hoping for a tidbit, and Bo drooling on Wade’s thigh.
It was nice. Warm. Comfortable.
And if not for his aching cock, he could have remained curled up with her all day, doing nothing. The vision, the thought, the prospect of making love with her, truly and completely, had nested in his brain. He could think of little else.
So when their plate was empty, he set it on the floor. Both Biby and Bo went for it. But Wade ignored them. He wrapped his arms around Lyssa and pulled her more fully onto his lap, and kissed her.
The kiss started soft and gentle, but it wasn’t long before hunger rose in both of them. He loved her responses, soft sighs, gentle nips, and tentative caresses. As she became bolder, so did he.
He eased a palm up her thigh, over her belly, and then cupped her breast. Ah. How magnificent. That tantalizing curve, the pert, pouting nipple. When he raked her with a thumb, she whimpered.
So he did it again.
He left her mouth, made his way over her cheek to nibble on her earlobe, and then dipped in to nuzzle her neck. She smelled fantastic there. He wasn’t sure what it was, the scent. It was probably just her . But it lit a fire in his gut.
His fingers tightened on her nipple. It was probably a purely reflex action, a response to the sheer delight curling through him, but the result was delicious. She arched and moaned and rubbed against him.
“God, I want you, Lyssa,” he murmured.
“Mmm.”
Was that consent? He was certain it was.
He shifted and eased her back onto the sofa, not breaking contact with an inch of her. Then he covered her.
The sofa was too short. He’d have to talk to Val about that—later. For now, he didn’t care. He arranged himself on it, over her, as best he could. Even then, he had to brace himself with one knee on the floor.
But his hands were free. As he kissed her, he caressed and explored.
Because he couldn’t resist, he nibbled his way over her collarbone to her chest. Then, catching her gaze, he lifted her cami and—
Holy God.
Her breasts were perfect. Small, but full. Round and firm. The engorged nipples, pink and pert, snared his attention. He swallowed the drool collecting in his mouth and cupped her, one mound in each hand.
She watched, eyes glittering and lips parted.
He squeezed, gently, and then massaged the tips in tandem. Her breath caught. Damn, she was a tantalizing sight. Unable to resist any longer, he tasted her. His tongue rasped over one beaded nipple. Then the other. He held her still as he lapped and sucked and nibbled.
When he caught her between his teeth, she cried out and writhed beneath him, her thigh massaged his aching cock. Was she aware her thigh was massaging his cock?
Shit, he didn’t care. It felt fantastic. He nudged against her and rubbed harder. There was nothing between them but a pair of sweats and Yoga pants. Yet it was too much. Far too much between them.
With a growl, he yanked down the elastic band of her pants. Tore them off and tossed them away. She helped, in a fashion, wriggling madly to be free of the restriction. He could have done without her help, but he managed and—
His heart stalled at the vision before him.
Lyssa, her hair wild and rumpled, lounging on the sofa with her shirt bunched above her breasts and her lower body bare. His attention fixed on her nest, and even as he watched, she parted her legs.
His pulse jack-hammered. His cock thrummed. Lust howled through him like a hot and
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