Chapter 32

32

Three months later…

"You know size matters," I mumbled.

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" Liberty asked from beside me.

"Please, for my sake do not answer that," Shiloh begged.

I watched as Phoenix easily blocked another ball from going near the rim.

The three of us were sitting on the bleachers watching the guys play basketball at the Hope Center. Phoenix's wife, Wren, had watched her husband and son play the first quarter but she had something to do in one of the computer rooms so now it was just me, Shiloh, and Liberty.

"I was speaking about Phoenix's height," I clarified. "But indeed, I have?—"

"Stop right there," Shiloh grouched.

I kept my eyes on the court, or more specifically on Valentine and the sweat-drenched t-shirt molded to his chest and torso, leaving very little to the imagination. Not that I needed to imagine what my man looked like without his clothes on. Thankfully, those memories were all stitched together into one, long, continuous highlight reel of goodness.

Though it felt like an eternity since I'd had the pleasure to experience all that goodness.

Valentine's concern for my ongoing recovery would've been sweet if it wasn't to the point of torture. To say the sweet had worn off weeks ago would be an understatement.

"Is there a reason you're scowling at the court?" Liberty asked.

"I'm not scowling. I'm attempting to send subliminal sexy messages to Valentine."

"By scowling?"

"I'm concentrating," I corrected.

"You look constipated," Shiloh put in. "You should try smiling. It might work better."

She was probably right.

"I never thought I'd say this because my man is a master when it comes to his mouth but?—"

"You've already said too much," Shiloh stopped me.

"Sorry. I'm used to blurting stuff out."

Where was Hayden when I needed him?

On that thought my gaze drifted to my best friend. After two months of actively avoiding me I threw a hissy fit to end all hissy fits and he started coming over to the house for dinner. It took another drama for him to stop pussy-footing around me. I suspected it was a show but things were back to normal, or a new normal, since we were no longer roommates. But he was at the house at least twice a week, and he and Valentine regularly played basketball together and on a few occasions had gone out to shoot pool without me. I knew those were the times when Valentine was pulling Hayden's head out of his ass.

"Not getting any?" Shiloh rightly guessed.

"I get plenty. I don't get to give and I don't get the main event but I get everything else."

I had no reason to be grumpy. Valentine was generous with orgasms. He stayed up late and talked me through the bad dreams. He held me every night. He loved me and told me often. He thought I was hot, sexy, beautiful, smart, and he gave that to me daily. But he would not let me return the favor. Not physically.

I needed more. I needed to get back what we had. I needed to give him what he needed.

"You didn't see what he saw," Liberty gently said. "You didn't see him . His whole world ended, Sophie. He couldn't find your pulse and I swear I saw him die right there. Your body needed time to heal. And maybe he needed distance from seeing you…" She stopped and shook her head.

She didn't need to finish.

He saw me covered in blood.

We'd talked about it. I made him tell me what happened. It wasn't pleasant, he'd retreated and tried to stonewall. But he'd given in and given us what I knew we both needed.

But it had been three months. I wasn't healing, I was healed.

"Thank you for…everything," I whispered.

I knew she caught my meaning when she softly returned, "You're welcome, Soph."

Yeah, she knew I knew she was the one who shot my crazy-ass sister before she could stab me again. Or stab Valentine when he jumped on me, prepared to take the blade.

"Gotta shower real quick, baby, then I'll hit the store if you start the potatoes."

We were having grilled steaks and twice-baked potatoes later. The potatoes needed to be baked early so they could cool before I doctored them up into fluffy, cheesy, calorie-ridden yumminess. And our house was on the way to the butcher Valentine used so he'd stopped to shower.

I tossed my purse on the chair and watched him hit the stairs. Actually, I was doing more than watching, I was salivating. He was hot and sweaty and I was over him putting me off. I understood what Liberty had told me. He did need distance from seeing me covered in blood, but those images were never going to be completely wiped from his memory. The same as I'd never forget his dull, haunted eyes when I came to in the hospital. I'd never forget his pain as he sat next to me while I gave my statement to the police. Those things were forever embedded—they were a part of us. We'd never get rid of them, but I was not going to allow them to define us.

I needed my man mindless. I needed him to take me with him to a place only he could take me.

Before I followed him, I pulled my phone out of my purse and called Hayden.

Since we were back to normal he answered my call instead of sending me to voice mail, which had been annoying and frustrating.

"Yo."

"Change of plans. I need another hour. Come over at five instead of four."

"Everything good?"

"It'll be great when I hang up on you and join my man in the shower in the hopes I can seduce him and get myself a happy ending."

"You know when I used to tell you to go out and have wild monkey sex that didn't mean I wanted the actual details."

"Deal with it, Winslow. And for the record I'm not giving you details. But I'll confirm it's wild?—"

"See you at five."

I smiled and tossed my phone on the couch.

Then I joined my man in the shower.

Christ, she was killing me.

How in the fuck had I let her talk me into this?

"Soph," I groaned.

Her wet tits pressed tighter to my back, the hand she had wrapped around my dick slowed, and her other hand cupping my balls rolled.

I was in hell.

She'd edged me to the brink twice.

"This is your warning, baby. Either you finish me off or I'm taking over."

We were nearing on four months. Four months of nothing but my hand alone in the shower after I got her off. I should've stuck to that and seen to her. Now my control was slipping. She needed more time before I took her with more than my mouth and fingers.

"It's my turn," she said sweetly and stroked faster.

That was how I'd gotten myself in this position. Sophie joining me in the shower, looking up at me with her pretty fucking eyes, telling me she wanted to give me a hand job.

"It's about to not be your turn," I grunted.

Her hand left my balls, grazed over my ass, went between us, and her hips jerked.

Good Christ .

"You playing with your pussy, Sophie?"

She was. I could totally feel what she was doing behind my back. I was seconds away from losing what little control I had left.

"No, I'm playing with your pussy, honey."

That did it.

I pulled her hand off my dick, turned, grabbed her by the hips, and lifted her. I barely had the presence of mind to slap the faucet off before I carried her to the bed and unceremoniously tossed her on it. She scrambled back when I followed her onto the mattress and closed her legs.

"Open your legs. Spread wide for me."

"No. I want you on your back."

That worked for me.

"You wanna ride my face, baby?"

"No. I'm gonna ride you ."

Before I could deny her request she attacked. My heart nearly stopped at her jerky movements, causing her to get the best of me and push me to my back.

"No thinking, Valentine." She straddled my hips. "Mindless, honey. Make me lose control."

Christ. My dick wept with excitement. But my gaze dropped to the scars on her abdomen, reminding me I had to let her heal.

"There are six of them," she drawled. "She tried six times to take me from you."

My gut churned at the reminder.

Sophie reached between us, fisted my cock, and stroked.

"But she failed."

My hands went to her hips to stop her, but my Soph was determined and she sank down taking the first few inches.

"Fuck," I grunted, holding my body absolutely still.

"I'm healed," she moaned and slid up. "And I need you," she panted on a downward glide.

Slowly she worked herself up and down until finally she had all of me.

Four months without feeling her. Three of those months tasting her, using my fingers to get her off, listening to her moan for me, but not feeling it the way I wanted. Only jacking off to take the edge off and stay the course. To let her body do what it needed to do.

She lifted herself up, slammed back down, and groaned, "So good."

This was not going to last. I wasn't going to last, not with her excitement coating my bare cock, her tight cunt already clenching.

"Lean forward, Soph, I want your tits in my face and your fingers toying with your clit."

I held her hips tightly until she gave me what I wanted. When I got her nipple in my mouth I loosened my hold. But I didn't give her much room to bounce. I needed her closer. I moved to the other nipple, toyed with it until she was squirming, trying go faster.

"Honey," she breathed, and dropped her forehead to the top of my head and started rocking.

Thank fuck .

"You wanna come, sweet Sophie? "

"Yes," she hissed.

"How bad, baby?"

"So, so bad, Valentine."

I rolled up, taking her with me, flipped her over, and drove back in.

"Wrap tight, baby."

She barely got her legs around my waist before I took her hard and deep with her back arching off the bed, her face shoved in my neck, and her nails scraping down my back.

Jesus fuck, she felt beautiful.

Her teeth sinking into my skin stifled her moan. Two more drives, I stayed planted, and poured myself into what had to be the longest orgasm of my life.

"I can feel you," she whispered.

I had no doubt.

"I love you, Valentine."

My dick jerked but my body froze and I closed my eyes.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you, so, so , so much, Valentine."

Christ .

She'd given me the words a lot over the last few months. But never while I was inside of her. Never when she had me wrapped up. Now I had it all. Her body and her heart. Together, at the same time .

I lifted my head so I could catch her eyes when I gave her back everything she'd given me, "I love you, Soph."

Her lips tipped up into a smug smile.

"I know you do."

I gave her that. It was no secret how much I loved her. The brand-new bed her mother had insisted on buying us when I had a perfectly good mattress was proof. The new furniture was also proof. So was the addition of a shit-ton of toss pillows on the couch, and new towels throughout the house, and the pictures on the walls.

Whatever Sophie wanted, she got.

"Is me coming inside you without a condom your way of communicating you're ready to start trying for a baby?"

"Well, if it wasn't, we'd be in trouble since your dick's so big you hit my cervix, and I'm pretty sure your swimmers don't actually have to swim anywhere since you'll just inject them where they need to go."

I couldn't stop my chuckle.

"And don't take that as a complaint. A cervical orgasm can't be beat."

"Good to know."

"I'm ready when you are," she said softly. "But I just ended my period so I think we're safe. Maybe."

"Then I best find a time to give you your ring."

I leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulled out, and rolled to my side.

Sophie yanked the throw blanket off the end of the bed—this was a new addition as well—and covered herself as she pulled up to sitting.

"My ring?"

I smiled at her wide eyes.

"Yeah, baby, your ring."

"You bought me a ring?" she sang and bounced.

Fuck, she was cute.

"Yes."

"Can I have it?" she asked with another bounce.

"You can, when I find the right time to give it to you."

Sophie launched herself at me, came up on her knees, and slapped her hands on my chest.

"Now's perfect."

I started chuckling.

"I'm not joking, Valentine." She jostled over me. "Right now is splendid. Totally the right time."

Good God, her excitement was gorgeous.

"Soph—"

"Please. Pretty please."

Her still-damp hair was a stringy mess that fell over her shoulders, face clean from the minimal makeup she wore, cheeks still flushed from her orgasm, and she'd never been more beautiful than she was right then asking me for her ring. She didn't care about the jewelry or the perfect timing. She cared about what that ring said.

She wanted the promise.

The future that promise held.

"Open my nightstand."

The woman damn near kicked me in the dick when she flung herself to the side to reach for the drawer. She came back with a black box in her hand, dropped back down, and held it in front of her.

"Open it," I grunted, still recovering from taking her weight.

"Yes."

"I haven't asked you anything yet, baby." I chuckled.

"Yes," she repeated. "A thousand yeses. Every day yes. Every day I choose you. Every day you're worth it. Every minute for the rest of my life, yes."

Everything she said hit me all at once. Then suddenly it morphed into ‘six times she tried to take me from you' then ‘I will fight for you.' And she had. She fought for me, for us, by lying on that floor bleeding out but fighting to stay alive.

"Marry me, Sophie."

"Hmmm. Let me think about?—"

I didn't let her finish. I did an ab curl and kissed the correct answer off her lips. It tasted beautiful.

Like home.

Like the future.

Like forever.

Next up is TIM in Playing with Love…