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She shoved away all thoughts of babies for now. Tonight wasn’t about that.
“Come here,” she whispered, crooking her finger at him.
Colm moved back over her body and placed his cock at her opening. They groaned in unison as he slid deep in one slow thrust.
“You feel so good,” he said, holding his weight on his elbows so he could kiss her again.
He tilted his hips in an easy, gentle rhythm as he made love to her mouth.
God. It finally dawned on her why sex with Colm felt so different, so special.
With other men, it had always been fucking.
But Colm didn’t do that. Instead, he made her feel cherished, precious. Important to him.
If this was his standard operating procedure, she couldn’t understand how he’d remained single so long.
“Colm,” she murmured, her hands stroking his back, her lips sliding over his bearded face.
“That’s right, Kell. Say my name. Remember it’s me.” He lifted up, his weight on his hands as he increased his pace, taking her harder. Deeper. She lifted her hips each time he slid back in, needing more, demanding more, and he answered the call with more force, more pleasure.
It was as if she’d triggered something inside him when she spoke his name. And now, holy shit, he was staking a claim, imprinting his name on her body, in her memory.
“Colm. God! I’m…”
“I’m there too. Say my name, Kelli.”
“Colm!” she cried, white light flashing behind her closed eyes.
“Dammit. Open your eyes and say my name!”
Kelli fought to give him what he wanted as he continued to slam inside her even harder. Her orgasm continued. She couldn’t come down. She didn’t fucking want to. Not ever.
“Colm. Colm. Colm…” His name became a chant as he held her gaze captive, his eyes never leaving hers, so that she saw it the second he was there too.
“Fuck. Kelli. God… Kelli,” he breathed, her name almost a sigh as he came as well, his face etched with intense pleasure that almost looked like pain.
For several moments, neither of them moved or looked away. They simply lay there, connected, gasping for breath, staring.
Colm had been in her life since she was five years old. And tonight, it felt like she was seeing him for the very first time.
Chapter Eleven
Colm leaned back in his chair at Pat’s Pub and rubbed his way-too-full stomach. Padraig sat across from him, doing the same thing. They were both suffering the aftereffects of Aunt Riley’s Thanksgiving dinner.
“Every year, I say I’m not going to overeat,” Colm murmured, closing his eyes as he fought off the desire to take a brief turkey-induced nap.
“Me too,” Padraig said. “Then I see that homemade stuffing with the real bacon bits and I start shoving it in my face like it’s my job.”
“We haven’t even had dessert yet.”
Padraig groaned. “I’m going to explode if I eat Mom’s pumpkin pie.”
Colm cracked one eye open. “You skipping it?”
“Don’t be insane. Of course not.”
“Damn. Thought that meant there would be more for me.”
