But there was nothing funny about the way she wasachingfor me. I pushed a second finger in, returning my mouth to her clit, alternating between less-than-gentle sucking, and quick work of my tongue.
She wasloud. The way she moaned and cried out was enough to sendmeover the edge.
As I teased a third finger, I found her nipple, plucking and pinching — relishing in the way that each of these movements were sending her spiraling.
“Ansel — I’m gonna?—”
Fuck.
“Come on, baby.” I muttered against her core, thrusting three fingers against her walls faster, rolling her nipple between my fingers and —shit.
She exploded on my tongue — on my fingers — with a force I’m not sure any man has ever had the opportunity to experience. Her back was completely bowed off the bed as she cried my name, fingernails digging into my scalp, holding me against her. She spasmed around my fingers, the feeling of her orgasm shootingstraightto my cock.
I couldn’t breathe — but she was better than air.
“Another,” I groaned, continuing relentlessly, my own hips bucking slightly into the mattress at the sound of her climax.Fuck.
“I—” The sound of her panting… I wanted to bottle that noise and keep it with me. “I can’t?—”
“You can. You will.”
She did.
Within seconds, she was toppling over again, her fingers clutching against any part of me she could reach. “God,” I whispered, shifting to press a kiss to her hipbone, right below her navel, between her breasts, until I was hovering over her, face to face. “You areperfection,Juniper Haddock.”
CHAPTER 41
The light woke me first — thin stripes cutting through the blinds and pooling across the sheets. Juniper was still asleep, her cheek pressed to my arm, hair tangled and messy, lips parted.
She looked so goddamn peaceful like that. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, careful not to wake her, and just… watched her for a second.
A man could get used to this.
When she finally stirred, her lashes fluttering; I kissed her shoulder. “Morning, kid.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, burying her face deeper into the pillow.
“Lazy,” I teased.
“Warm,” she shot back, voice muffled.
“Our flight’s tomorrow,” I grinned, pulling her closer against me. “We could stay in bed all day. Let everyone else fend for themselves.”
That earned me a quiet laugh, barely there but real.
Eventually, she rolled over, hair in her face, and I caught herwrist when she tried to brush it away — brought her palm to my lips instead. Her cheeks flushed, and she muttered, “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you mean it.”
“Maybe I do.”
Her gaze darted away, but I didn’t miss the way her breath caught.
We finally got up — slowly, unhurried. She stole another one of my shirts and padded barefoot to the kitchenette while I made coffee. She perched on the counter, legs swinging idly, looking like she belonged there. Like she’d been there a hundred times before.
I handed her the mug and stood between her knees, letting my hands rest on her thighs. “You know,” I said after a moment, brushing my thumb along her jaw, “my mom’s been begging to meet you.”
