Made For Loving You (Rescue My Heart Book 3)

by Kait Nolan

  Determined to get them back to the naked, fun portion of the weekend, Paisley settled her hand on his leg as he put the truck into gear.

  Ty glanced over. “We’re playing that game, huh?”

  “If you remember the rules of this particular variation of chicken.”

  He slid his hand over her knee, his fingers curling around the inside of her thigh. “As if I’d forget.”

  “It’s not quite as easy as it was in that old truck of yours with the bench seat.”

  His hand skated up an inch. “I think we’ll manage.”

  It was a game of torture, a slow seduction of proximity. With every mile closer to his cabin, they crept their touches higher, with little swirls and strokes of fingers meant to arouse and tempt. Her breath grew ragged as he massaged the tender skin of her inner thigh. His hissed out as she skimmed the edge of his erection. By the time he turned into his driveway, she was wet and desperate and wishing she’d worn a skirt. He threw the truck into park and, with more speed and efficiency than she’d imagined possible, unhooked her seatbelt to haul her over the center console so she straddled him.

  “How the hell did we used to hold out doing that all the time?”

  Paisley nipped at his throat. “We didn’t always. I distinctly remember us being stupid enough to get each other off while driving when we were teenagers.”

  Gripping her hips, he ground into her. “Lucky we didn’t wreck.”

  “So lucky.” Fusing her mouth with his, she began to rock.

  They weren’t nearly naked enough, but she didn’t think that was going to stop a first orgasm from curling her toes right here in the cab of his truck.

  Ty did, though, as his hands stilled her hips. “Shit, slow down. I have no intention of reliving that particular memory from high school. Inside. In an actual bed.” The thrum of order in his tone had her lady bits swooning.

  They scrambled out of the truck, grabbing the pizza—miraculously still in its box on the floor—and stumbled up the porch steps and through the door, where they were both confronted with the reality of her cheerful pup determined to welcome them back from an eternity away. Whole body wriggling, Duke leapt up with a bark of sheer joy.

  “Down!” Ty snapped.

  The tone worked on Duke too as he plopped his butt to the floor, tail swish swish swishing.

  Resigned that naked fun time would have to wait a bit, Paisley scrubbed a hand down her face. “Protect the pizza. I’ll take him out.”

  It took longer than she wanted. Duke had to circle the perimeter of the entire cabin, sniffing every tree and bush before picking the right spot to do his business. Back inside, they had to have a spirited game of tug to work off some of his boundless energy. By then, her stomach was making a bid to remind her that whatever else the evening held, it wanted food, so she and Ty stood at the kitchen counter, scarfing cold pizza and staring at each other with bedroom eyes.

  As he finished inhaling his second slice, his gaze slid up to the loft. “Is Duke going to interfere with things?”

  “As in, will he try to climb the stairs or howl through the main event? I have no idea. I didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a regular door. But he’s like a toddler. Distraction is key. I think so long as he’s hooked up with one of his puzzle toys, we’ll be okay. For a while, anyway.”

  “By all means, distract away.”

  Paisley filled up three of the puzzles. It was way more treats than he’d usually get, but desperate times. As she put them on the floor, Duke bounced from one to the next, overwhelmed by his choices.

  “Hurry.” She made a run for the stairs herself, pleased when Ty bracketed her in with his big, strong arms.

  “Up we go.”

  He nipped at her ass as it came level with his mouth. She laughed and moved faster, all but throwing herself over the lip at the top. Her blood was sizzling, and she was desperate to strip him down and lose herself in the frantic, sweaty heat between them. With that in mind, she faced the ladder. But as Ty reached the top, he slowed, prowling toward her with a fierce expression of wanting in his eyes. The muscles between her thighs clenched. Oh yeah, that look was really working for her.

  But there was something else as he slid his hands into her hair, searching her face. Looking for…what? An answering wanting? She had that and more, always, for this man.

  She was prepared for explosive heat and the borderline rough desperation he’d shown her after the wedding. But she wasn’t ready for the soft brush of his mouth or the tender stroke of his hands as he drew her in. Instinctively, she began to melt at the touch before she caught herself and pulled back. “Ty.” Could he hear questions in that single syllable? What is this? What are you doing?

  He only stared into her eyes, brushing the tumble of her hair back from her face. “Just let me.” He laid his lips over hers again, drugging. Seducing. And it didn’t matter that she didn’t entirely understand what he wanted, what he was asking. She couldn’t help but give in. She’d never been able to deny him anything.

  Circling them toward the bed, he began to strip off her clothes with far more dexterity than he’d had at eighteen. Her heart beat slow and thick as he laid her back on the bed, following her down to cover her with that incredible, battle-honed body. When she would’ve reached for him, he kept her fingers laced with his and began a lazy journey down her torso, sipping here, suckling there, mapping every inch with his mouth and hands. Or maybe he followed a very old map, as he lingered at the crease where her thigh met her hip, a spot that had always driven her wild.

  “Ty, what are you doing?”

  “Enjoying you. I didn’t take enough time for this last time.”

  After the wedding, he’d been busy driving her out of mind with orgasms, a fact she hadn’t complained about in the slightest. It seemed he was determined to drive her crazy with patience this time, and Paisley wasn’t at all sure she’d survive it.

  Ty rubbed his bearded cheek against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she whimpered, needing so much more.

  “I had to learn incredible patience in the Rangers. Sometimes we’d have to wait hours, days even, for the right moment to execute an op.” His tone was conversational, as if his mouth wasn’t millimeters from the promised land.

  “Your point?” Paisley gasped.

  “There was a lot of downtime to think. I used to think about this.” He nuzzled her center through her panties.

  “Sex?” God, please.

  “Sex with you. What it felt like. What you sounded like. How you tasted.”

  The idea of it had her going impossibly wetter, likely soaking the panel between her thighs. She couldn’t think through the implications of his words, only focused on the fact that he’d thought of her, thought of this, at least as often as she had after they’d parted.

  Ty began to work the underwear down. “My memory is pretty damned good.’’ Tossing the scrap of fabric away, he finally, finally settled between her thighs, spreading her open for his hungry gaze. “But absolutely nothing is better than the real thing.” And then he dove in and proved it, licking and sucking as if she were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

  Desperately turned on, Paisley gripped his hair, soaking in the sight of his head buried between her legs and the sounds of pleasure he made as she rode his tongue until she was breathless and flying. Before she’d even ceased shuddering from the aftershocks, he moved up her body and took her mouth. The taste of her own release had tension coiling fresh.

  She nipped his lip. “You aren’t nearly naked enough.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  By the time he’d stripped and come back to join her, she’d found enough muscle control to rise to her knees. “Your turn.” She pressed a hand to his chest, intending to shove him back and taste those V grooves at his waist that she’d been fantasizing about since the wedding. He’d had an athlete’s body at eighteen, but these were new.

  “Later.” He pinned her hand to his heart and toppled back, pulling her
with him. “Right now I want to watch you ride me.”

  As if she could resist an invitation like that?

  Taking the condom he offered, she rolled it on, loving the thick feel of him in her hand. Hers. For the weekend, at least, this—he—was hers.

  Swinging a leg over his hips, she straddled him, torturing them both by rubbing her slick folds over his crown.

  “Paisley.” His eyes were a dark, thrilling warning.

  “You said you wanted to enjoy me. Turnabout is fair play. And you did claim that magnificent patience.”

  “Maybe I was wrong.” Gripping her hips, he bowed up to take one nipple into his mouth. The motion slid the first couple of inches of him inside her.

  Swearing, she speared her hands into his hair, rolling her hips to the suckling of his mouth, taking a little more of him each time. When he reached up to knead her other breast, she groaned and gave in, taking the rest of him in one long, slow slide.

  They both moaned. Nothing had ever felt more perfect than the way he stretched her, filled her. She’d spent years trying to find this again and failing. No one had ever fit her like him.

  His fingers curled into her hips, encouraging her to move. She bowed back to take him even deeper and gave herself over to the long, slow climb.

  “You look like a fucking goddess.”

  She felt like one as she watched his face—the pleasure, the fierceness. When he gritted his teeth, obviously trying to hold on, she dipped forward, capturing his mouth and squeezing her inner muscles to push him past the edge of control. She loved him just the other side of civilized. Loved him desperate. On a growl, his control snapped, and he thrust into her hard and fast, until the kick and jerk of his release pulled her right over behind him.

  Ty had conducted all kinds of covert, stealthy operations in his career. He’d been taught to move in silence, in and out without detection. If push came to shove, he could probably plan a successful heist. But he wasn’t at all sure he could crack an egg without waking the woman he’d left sleeping in his bed.

  Gently tapping it on the edge of the counter, he glanced up. No sound. No movement. They’d worn each other out since Friday. Maybe he could pull off this breakfast in bed thing after all.

  Pulling his attention back to the egg, he looked for the crack. Nothing. How did they make it look so damned easy on those cooking shows? They’d probably say something obnoxious like, “It’s all in the wrist.” Which it probably was.

  With plenty of furtive glances up, he managed to break the eggs and fish the shells out. As he added some milk and a splash of vanilla, he knew he was crossing some kind of a line. Breakfast in bed wasn’t part of the Casual, No Strings Sex Handbook. But then, he’d been operating off-book all weekend. He couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to Paisley.

  All those years ago, he’d cut her out of his life, knowing he couldn’t keep her light and still function in the dark and shadows as the job demanded. Knowing, too, that to try would have wiped out the internal sunshine he’d so loved basking in. No matter how much he’d loved her, how much he’d wanted her, he couldn’t make himself hurt her like that.

  She’d changed in the last two decades. They both had. But that light was still the same, and being around her was an intoxicating reminder that there was more to the world than darkness. She couldn’t know how much he needed and appreciated that. So, he was paying her back in orgasms and—God willing—French toast. He didn’t want to think about what it meant or where it might lead. He just wanted to enjoy her, as he’d said.

  Duke watched with great interest from the dog bed Ty had dragged to the edge of the kitchen. He wanted to be included so badly, and this had seemed the best way to keep him chilled out and quiet. Ty tipped a hefty dose of cinnamon into the egg mixture and carefully whisked it. Still no movement from the loft. Pouring the mixture into a baking dish, he reached for the bread. At the crinkle of the wrapper, Duke sat up, tags jingling, ears perked.

  Ty held a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

  The dog rose to his feet, tail swishing like a metronome.

  Keeping his voice low, he pointed. “No.”

  Instead of coming after the bread, Duke pranced to the door, bouncing on his front paws, his claws clicking on the hardwood floors.

  Ty glanced at the loft again.

  Duke bounced and chuffed.

  “We already took a walk.” Why was he arguing with a dog? This was ridiculous.

  “You did?”

  Damn it.

  Paisley peered down over the railing, her hair a riot of tumbled curls around her shoulders. She didn’t look altogether conscious yet, judging from the vaguely confused, half-mast state of her eyes.

  “I was trying to let you sleep. We haven’t done a helluva lot of that this weekend.”

  Her lips curved in a feline smile that, as always, heated his blood. “I don’t believe you’ve heard me complain.”

  No. Screaming. Begging. Laughing. Never complaining.

  “I had planned on a lazy morning with breakfast in bed.” He hadn’t had a lazy morning of any variety in longer than he could remember, but she made him want to indulge.

  Her gaze strayed to the kitchen. “Is that French toast?”

  Shifting from foot to foot, Ty resisted the urge to rub at the heat in the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

  “Is there bacon?’’

  That had a smile tugging at his own lips. “There can be.”

  “Coffee?”

  “I didn’t dare start it while you were sleeping. But yeah.”

  She shimmied down the stairs faster than he expected—but maybe he was distracted by the tantalizing flash of bare legs.

  “You, Sir Tyson The Thoughtful, are a god among men.” She braced her hands at his shoulders and planted a smacking kiss on his lips. “I’m starving.”

  When she would have dropped to her feet and stepped away, he looped his arms around her, holding her in place.

  “You’re wearing my shirt.” It hit her high on the thigh and afforded him a magnificent view of her cleavage where she’d left it unbuttoned.

  Without an ounce of shame, she nodded. “I am. And I’ll let you in on a secret: I’m probably not giving it back.”

  That idea was way too appealing. “Like my football jersey in high school?”

  Her expression went comically blank. “I’ll plead the fifth” Spinning away, she sashayed into the kitchen to the coffee pot.

  He liked seeing the ease with which she moved around his kitchen, making herself at home, pulling out filters, grabbing the bag of beans from the freezer. She was always so at ease wherever she was. It was an enviable skill. He still felt out of place almost everywhere in the civilian world.

  But not with her.

  The coffeemaker began to burble, and Paisley opened the fridge, bending over to peer inside, presumably looking for bacon. Prowling over on silent feet, Ty wrapped his arms around her from behind. Her shriek of surprise turned to laughter as he nibbled at her neck.

  “Grab the bacon. I’ll start the French toast.”

  The easy domesticity of it struck him as he slid the first piece of bread into the hot skillet. He hadn’t imagined he could do this. But they moved in sync, hip-to-hip, Paisley manning the bacon, pouring coffee for them both.

  He found himself staring at her as she offered him a mug.

  She arched a brow. “What?”

  Before Ty could open his mouth and probably make a huge mistake, his phone began to ring. “Watch the toast?”

  “I’m on it.”

  He snagged the phone off the charger, frowning when he saw the sheriff’s name on the display. “Brooks.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your weekend off, but I’m calling everybody in. There’s been an explosion in the south end of the county.”

  The switch into work mode was instant. Ty moved toward the stairs. “What do we know?”

  By the time Xander finished briefing him, Ty was dressed and shrugging into his duty
belt. “I’m on my way.”

  In the kitchen, Paisley was flipping the last of the French toast onto a plate. She offered up a rueful smile. “You have to go to work.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll get packed up and out of your way.”

  Plucking up a slice of French toast, he tossed it from hand to hand, as if that would help it cool faster. “You don’t have to rush off. Take your time.”

  She shrugged. “I would’ve needed to get on the road in two or three hours anyway. It’s fine.”

  Their time together had been counting down all weekend. Ending a few hours early shouldn’t have been a big deal, but he found he didn’t want the weekend to end.

  “What if you stayed?” So much for not being stupid.

  “What?”

  He should have just stuffed his face with the toast and waved goodbye, but he was in it now. “I mean, you can theoretically work anywhere, right? Is there something you need to be getting back for?”

  “No.” She dragged the word out several syllables.

  “Then you could stay a few more days. Get in over at the spa for some pampering.” Maybe if it wasn’t just for him, she wouldn’t think it weird.

  Paisley studied him for a long time, dark eyes serious. “What is this, Ty?”

  He didn’t have a good answer. “I don’t know. I just... don’t want you to go yet.” The admission left him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He kind of hated it and wished he could rewind the last few minutes and take it back.

  But at last, she gave a slow nod. “Okay, I’ll stay. If you’re sure you’re okay with it.”

  Cupping his free hand behind her nape, her brushed her lips with his, resisting the urge to linger. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

  Snatching another slice of toast and some bacon, he headed for the door.

  “Ty?”

  At the threshold he paused, looking back. “Yeah?”