Ifeel like I’ve run a marathon, my body and mind exhausted from the torrent of emotions. Leaning forward, I take another bite of the cookie, not too proud to admit I did a damn good job.
But I can gloat later.
Sawyer’s Adam’s apple bobs as he watches me, my tongue swiping at the crumbs on my lips, the movement intentional.
Because I want his attention.
Need it.
We both do—something to erase this hesitance between us.
“I thought maybe we could take a picnic to the beach,” I tell him.
“Okay…”
“Like a date.”
“Hallie.” My name is full of regret as he moves Winnie, before easing us back onto the bed.
“You don’t like it?”
“I’ll take you to the beach,” he says, tipping my face up with the side of his finger, “and I’ll take you to dinner and for a long weekend. Concerts and festivals in Starlight Bay and downthe East Coast.” Kissing me softly, he says, “I want all of those things. I want all the things that make you happy.”
“You make me happy.”
“That’s good because I plan on a lifetime of doing it.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s all I want.” His eyes are a swirl of emotion, the kind I want to get lost in forever. “I love you.”
“I never meant to fall for you.”
“It was inevitable for me,” he says with a wry grin.
“I love that about you.”
“And my cooking.”
“That’s a bonus,” I tell him, pressing myself more firmly against his side.
“I thought the orgasms were the bonus?”
Leaning forward, he doesn’t give me a chance to answer before his palm grips the back of my neck, guiding my mouth to his. His lips are soft as he brushes them against mine, a warning before he’s devouring me, his tongue tangling with mine as he holds me exactly where he wants me.
And God, it’s so good.
“Sawyer.” I pant as he pulls me on top of him, his length hard and pressing against my clit as I brace my hands on either side of him.
“Are you gonna make me cookies every time you need to apologize?” he teases, his palm dipping under the waistband of my pants and underwear to squeeze the globe of my ass.
“If that’s what I need to do,” I concede. Moving my head, I nip at the underside of his jaw, forcing his head back as I lick and suck down the column of his throat. “But I can think of other things that might make you forgive me.”
“Tell me you’re staying,” he grunts, his pulse hammering as I grind my hips against his, teasing us both.
“I’m staying.”
“And then what?” he asks, moving his head until he can meet my gaze. “What happens next?”
