Valentine's Day (Second Skin Book 3)

by Ophelia Bell

  “I love you so much,” I say, slowing down to touch her cheek, to kiss her.

  “I know,” she says. “I love you too.”

  From that moment on, we move as one, the rhythm of our need taking over. We’re in sync like we always are, only this time it’s beyond transcendent.

  She cries my name and I cry hers, my gaze still locked on her face, but my body wholly aware of every other place we’re in contact. She urges me faster, digging her heels into my ass, and I speed up, the rush of desire rising the quicker we move.

  When it becomes too much, I falter and try to slow, but she shakes her head. “I’m ready,” she pants.

  “Me too.”

  Then we’re both gone, giving into the crush of pleasure and letting it carry us under, deeper than we’ve ever been before.

  34

  Toni

  None of our shared moments of bliss can compare to the moment he’s inside me and we both climax while gazing into one another’s eyes. The experience strips us down to our essences, and if I wasn’t sure how he felt before, I am now.

  The crazy thing is that when he smiles at me as we start to relax, the thing that goes through my head is how didn’t I see it sooner? I could’ve saved myself so much heartache if I’d realized he was under my nose this whole time, feeling these feelings.

  “What is it?” he asks, breathless as he eases off me and disposes of the condom before settling beside me on the bed again, head propped on one hand.

  “What’s what?”

  “You got this look like you’re pissed about something. I really hope I didn’t screw up. For the record, it was better than any of my wildest dreams, and I’ve had a few.”

  I laugh. “Same here. That was . . .” I close my eyes and settle for making an explosion noise and gesture with my hands on either side of my head. Then I look at him again. “But I am pissed. At myself. Maybe a little at you too.”

  He frowns. “Okay, I’m confused now. Mind-blowing sex, yet you’re not happy?”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t happy. I just feel like an idiot that we didn’t figure this out sooner. I’m not sure whether to blame you for not coming clean about how you feel, or myself for not seeing you for who you are.”

  He half-shrugs. “I don’t think I was ready until recently. I don’t know that you were either. Trust me, I had a plan.” He taps his temple and smirks.

  “Oh? And how’s that plan working out for you so far?” I stare at our new surroundings.

  Sam sighs. “I’ve had to adjust, but so far results are still promising.”

  “You are nothing if not adaptable. But tell me, what is your goal for this plan of yours?”

  He stares at me as if I’m daft. “To make the beautiful, talented Toni Valentine fall head over heels in love with me, of course.”

  I turn to face him and sling my leg over his thigh. “I think you’re on the right track.”

  Sam narrows his eyes. “On the right track? Two orgasms in the span of an hour is only ‘on the right track’? I knew you were a complicated woman, but I thought multiple orgasms would be a good benchmark for success.”

  “There’s still time to try for three,” I offer. “And between you and me, that bowl full of condoms is pretty much a challenge.”

  He twists around and grabs a second condom. “Oh yeah? Well, challenge accepted.”

  “How are you hard again?” I ask, wide-eyed as he rolls the condom down his shaft.

  “You didn’t think once was going to be enough, did you?”

  “Once definitely wasn’t enough.” I press my palm against his shoulder, forcing him back down onto the bed, then rise and straddle him.

  “Jesus, woman,” he mutters when I lower myself onto his cock and start to move again. The sensation is even better the second time around, as if the first screw was just enough to wake up all my nerve endings and this time they’re ready to go.

  The desire takes hold after only a few strokes and I let myself go, reclaiming an old impulse I thought I’d lost—the impulse to release all my inhibitions and let pure sexual need drive me onward. This need carries me into a bucking frenzy, chasing a pleasure stronger than I’ve ever known. Sam is wholly preoccupied with me, but when the wildness starts to take over, he looks a little shocked and bewildered. But he recovers quickly, and within moments he’s right there with me, digging his fingers into my hips and jacking his hips up harder and faster to meet my every stroke.

  I’m so close, but it’s the third go, so it takes me longer. I lean back farther, bracing my hands on his thighs to get a different angle. His cock drives deep and upward, right into my G-spot, and I moan as I rock my hips in rhythm with his thrusts.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” Sam says, shifting one hand between my thighs to rub my clit.

  That’s what sends me over at last, and he follows within seconds of my muscles starting to spasm around him. The cascade of pleasure has barely diminished when he sits up and wraps his arms around me, planting his mouth on mine and kissing me like I’m more vital than air.

  I don’t want to stop, and I can tell he doesn’t either. But I extract myself long enough to wash up and find my lotion, then urge him onto his belly so I can tend to his tattoo.

  The design dazzles me even more now that it’s been etched into his skin. Fresh designs are always more impressive adorning someone’s body than they are on paper.

  As I’m rubbing the lotion over the eyes and mouth of the woman, I pause and do a double-take. I remember his explanation about the face, but after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve learned, it hits me. I feel like I’m looking in a mirror.

  “You sneaky bugger,” I say.

  He turns his head with an inquisitive sound, one eyebrow lifted.

  “It was never your sister, was it? You just let me think that.” I trace a circle around the face of the goddess on his back. My face.

  His cheeks flush and he clears his throat. “I was pretty amazed you didn’t figure it out sooner. It was clear as day to me.”

  “Well, yeah, because you drew the face to begin with. You let me think it was someone else.”

  “It’s always been you, Toni,” he says in a low voice. “It was never anyone else.”

  “This might be the craziest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” I say, my voice catching. My eyesight blurs, but I pull myself together and lie down beside him, our noses nearly touching.

  “Crazier than getting myself kidnapped to make sure you were okay?”

  I laugh and brush my palm down his cheek. “Okay, you’re racking up the crazy points.”

  “Figure I’ve got about a decade’s worth.”

  “Sounds like I have some catching up to do. You packed your machine in your suitcase, right? It’s not in a box being shipped to San Diego, is it?”

  “Nope,” he says, then smirks. “You thinking of doing something crazy that involves ink?”

  “Getting another tattoo hardly qualifies for me, but in this case, yes. If we have time tomorrow, I want you to give me a tattoo.”

  “What are we talking here? My name on your ass?” He grins.

  I swallow as the certainty of my request takes over, and take his hand. I press his palm to my chest over my beating heart, over one of the few patches of unadorned skin still left on my body.

  “I saved this spot for something special. For someone special. I want you to have it. It’s your call what you put there, but it’s yours.”

  His brows twitch and the playful humor dissipates. “Toni . . .”

  “I mean it. This is how much you mean to me.”

  “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

  “It isn’t as if we just met. I don’t have to learn to trust you, Sam—I already do. With my entire fucking being, I trust you. You know that says a lot coming from me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” His voice breaks and he leans in, brushing his lips over mine as his hand rests over my heart. He kisses me slowly, each sweep of his lips a
nd tongue affirming how much he understands me. My body responds within seconds, heat rising anew even before he lets his hand drift to my breast, cupping the weight in his palm, then teasing the pad of his thumb across my nipple.

  I gasp and he pulls back, staring into my eyes. I stare back and ask, “Ready for another condom?”

  “Hell yes.”

  Sam dozes off after round three or four, but I’m too wired to sleep. It’s the sweetest feeling in the world to be wrapped around each other in this big bed, the sound of the surf flowing over us from the open window and the warm glow of the fireplace the only illumination. After our ordeal it feels like we’ve been taken out of time and locked in a bubble-world that only has a population of two, and it’s the perfect setting for us to discover each other.

  Sam is sweeter and more attentive than I have any right to expect. When he joked about anticipating my needs as a business partner a few days ago, I had no reason to suspect that promise might extend to this arena too. But it does. It’s as if he reads my mind at every turn, and when he doesn’t automatically guess, he asks. Am I warm enough? Do I need a glass of water? Do I want to make love again?

  Always yes to the last question.

  It’s as if he was made for me. And in a way, he was. He made himself for me. The idea still feels surreal, but it’s the absolute truth. More than a decade ago, an eleven-year-old kid saw my image in what had to be one of my first online videos and decided he wanted me when he grew up. I don’t deserve a man who would go to such lengths, but I’m not about to turn him away. What he doesn’t realize is what a mess I was at the time. I was younger than he is now, just coming into my own as a celebrity, and not dealing with it as well as those videos probably suggest. “Hot mess” is an understatement.

  Something tells me I could tell Sam all of this and he would understand. Manny accepted it, but I don’t think he ever really got it—mental illness isn’t something families like ours ever talk about. It’s a weakness, and we don’t have the luxury of showing weakness when the rest of society already undervalues us. Mom still avoids the topic of my self-harm even though I know she loves me, so I just don’t bring it up when I’m with family.

  Sam reacted in a way I never could’ve predicted, distracting me so completely the compulsion to escape into self-inflicted pain hasn’t reared its ugly head in days. Not since he bit me that first night.

  I drop my hand between my legs, searching for that spot on my thigh. The tenderness lingered for a while, but it’s gone now, the bruise faded. But I’m sore in other places from several rounds of lovemaking. Tomorrow I’m allowing him to go even further by giving me a tattoo. I don’t want to know what he comes up with, but whatever it is, I know it will be perfect.

  “You okay?” he murmurs in a sleep-roughened voice muffled by the skin of my neck.

  “I’m perfect,” I answer, threading my fingers through his where they rest against my belly.

  He tightens his hold on me and exhales a warm, contented sigh that’s infectious, and I eventually fall asleep to the even sound of his breathing over the rhythm of the surf.

  It’s fully light by the time I wake up. The past several days feel like a dream, especially the last twenty-four hours, and it takes me a moment to get my bearings. Sunlight cascades down through a sheer curtain draped over the head of the bed that I didn’t notice the night before. It’s quiet except for the faint sound of the Gulf in the distance.

  And I’m alone. I roll over to find Sam’s side of the bed empty, then blink in confusion at the spray of deep red dotting the pillowcase and the sheets, trailing across the floor and down the stairs.

  “Sam?” My pulse spikes as I clamber out of bed. “Sam? Where are you? Oh my God. Sam!”

  35

  Toni

  My vision blurs and my adrenaline spikes as I lurch out of bed and throw on a robe. This can’t be happening. We’re safe here. We’re supposed to be safe here!

  “Sam! Where are you?” I call again, rounding the end of the bed and aiming for the top of the narrow staircase. I skid to a halt, heart in my throat, when Sam’s dark head emerges with a brilliant smile above the bannister as he ascends the steps.

  “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he says.

  I nearly collapse onto the bed with relief and his smile falters.

  “What’s wrong?” He rushes up and kneels on the floor at my feet.

  I fling my arms around him, overwhelmed with relief. “The bed . . . I woke up and you were gone, and the bed . . .”

  I turn to the pillow and touch the red spots. When they fall away from my touch, I squint and brush my fingers down the soft pillowcase. All the red flutters into a pile. Drawing my fingers through it, I pick up a handful and hold it in front of my face, squinting. The faint scent of earth and cocoa hits my nose.

  Flower petals. They’re fucking flower petals.

  I close my eyes and heave a breath. “Oh.” Then I let out an anxious chuckle. “You must think I’m crazy.”

  Sam squeezes my knees. “I wanted to surprise you. I thought it would be romantic to leave a trail for you to follow.”

  I glance back at the bed and point to it. “I thought it was blood. I thought . . .”

  His eyes widen and his mouth opens. I laugh, but the truth is still catching up to me. The raw fear that he was hurt—maybe dead—still has a tight hold over my insides.

  “Toni, baby. It’s only flower petals. In retrospect I could’ve chosen a different color, but I’m okay. I’m here. Breathe, baby. I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  He shifts up onto the bed beside me and pulls me into his lap. The contact allows me to catch my breath and recalibrate, and after a moment I can’t help but laugh.

  “Oh my God. I ruined it, didn’t I? I ruined your surprise.”

  “Not a chance. The reveal is just going to be a little less climactic than I’d hoped. But you already got a shock, so that’s probably for the best. Come on, let me show you.”

  He rises and I slip off his lap, clutching his hand as he leads me toward the stairs. I glance back at the bed and shudder at the sight of red now gathered into a pile. Knowing it’s only flower petals doesn’t diminish its effect on me.

  We head downstairs, following the dotted trail of petals all the way out onto the sheltered patio. It’s a beautiful sunny morning, a light breeze rustling through the lush greenery that surrounds our little sanctuary.

  He has a table laden with an elaborate traditional Mexican breakfast, including fresh hot chocolate, chilaquiles, beans, eggs, and potatoes. In the center is a small cake, frosted in white and decorated with roses. Nearby is another small table with a carafe of orange juice next to a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket.

  It’s all too much, but I love it all the same.

  “Oh, Sam. You didn’t have to do anything special for me. I told you I’d just as soon not be reminded of my age. Though mistaking flower petals for blood definitely proves I’m getting older. Remind me to get my eyes checked when we get home, okay?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Thirty isn’t exactly ancient, babe. I know you feel like you’ve been through hell and back, but so do I. If anything, we’re much closer in mental years than our actual ages suggest.”

  “You may have a point. You’ve definitely proved you’re a man I can count on.”

  He squeezes my hand and pulls me out the sliding door and around the table. “I had plans to do something for you at home anyway, so this was happening one way or another. You deserve to be celebrated. And since I can’t actually give you your gift until we get back, I wanted to at least show it to you.”

  “Sam, you didn’t have to get me anything . . .”

  He pulls out a chair and urges me to sit. When I’m seated, I look up to see his phone propped against a small vase of the red-petaled daisies he must’ve used to create the trail.

  I blink at the image that’s displayed on his screen, then reach for the phone for a closer look. It’s de
finitely time to check my eyes, because I don’t believe what I’m seeing.

  “Is this . . . is this real?” I ask, zooming in and swiping the screen to examine the photo more closely. It’s the most gorgeous motorcycle I’ve ever seen—even more beautiful than the one they on display at the convention.

  He settles in the chair across from me with a huge grin. “Damn right it’s real. I had my brother restore it and paint it. Took him a few months, but he got it done in time. That’s why I really went up to LA last week . . . to pick up your present.”

  “Where is it now?”

  “Elle’s storage unit. As soon as we get home, I’ll take you to pick it up. You like it, right?”

  “Sam! Yes, I love it! I hate that I can’t fucking touch it right now.” I make a grasping motion at the screen and emit a frustrated noise. He’s already more than perfect, but this is beyond my expectations. “You know I’d have been satisfied with flowers and cake and good sex. Except for my little scare, this has already been one of the best birthdays of my life.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says, grimacing. “The last thing I want you to do is worry about me. But we have all day to celebrate however you choose—within the limitations we have, anyway.” He waves at our surroundings.

  “Is it safe to go to the beach? Or even the pool?” I eye the sky from beneath our shelter. It’s still the pale blue of morning, but the color is deepening as the sun climbs.

  “The pool, yes, but Lena warned us to stay within the walls. She mentioned that Amador might send drones around, but she has equipment around the resort that disrupts their ability to transmit, so even if one flew over with a camera, it would only send static back to whoever’s watching.”

  “Did she give us a timeframe for how long we’d be here?”

  “No, but she wanted to meet with us later this afternoon. Hopefully she’ll have more to tell us then.”

  “Vic and Mako must be out of their minds. We were supposed to share a ride to the airport yesterday. Did you talk to them?”