He chuckled, slow and smug, his hand sliding down to squeeze my hip. “That’s not a no.”
It wasn’t. Not even close.
What scared me wasn’t how good he made me feel—it was how he completely rewrote the limits I thought I had. Somehow, with Austin, everything became a question I wanted to say yes to. He didn’t push. He didn’t demand. He offered and trusted me to answer.
And the trust—that was the part that undid me.
Later, after we showered, I curled into his chest, legs tangled beneath the sheets. He kissed my temple, murmured something low and unintelligible into my hair.
I drifted in and out of sleep, fingers trailing the lines of his arm, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was in trouble.
Because this wasn’t just sex.
He was more than a man in my bed. It was trust. It was joy. It was someone knowing every inch of you and still reaching for more. He was the warmth sneaking into all the places I swore I’d hardened.
TWENTY-TWO
AUSTIN
The Sunday-morning lightpoured through Selene’s kitchen window, catching the edge of her smile as she handed me a mug of coffee. Her hair was a clump of wild waves, her bare feet silent on the old wood floors, and the hem of my T-shirt flirted with the tops of her thighs like it had secrets it was too shy to share.
I was warm. In my bones. In my chest. In the quiet, satisfied ache still lingering after what we’d done in her bed. She had been draped across me only a few hours ago, moaning my name like a secret she didn’t mean to spill. It had been the kind of sex that stripped you bare—not just skin, but soul. Her body had taken everything I gave her, and then reached for more, like she didn’t know how to stop.
Fuck, I couldn’t stop either.
It hadn’t just been good—it had beenreal. Messy and consuming and honest in a way I hadn’t felt in ... well,ever. I’d been high on her ever since. Maybe that was why the air felt sweeter, the coffee tasted better, and the light slanting across the floor looked like something out of a dream.
I leaned against the counter, sipping slowly, watching her move around like she wasn’t already taking up permanent residence under my skin. Everything felt soft. Easy.
I would have been happy to stay tucked into this lazy kind of rhythm all morning, the kind where time blurred and nothing needed to be decided right away. I was still barefoot, shirtless, wearing the same worn sweatpants I’d pulled on after our second round in her bed.
It was perfect.
I was about to ask her if she wanted lunch—or if she’d prefer a repeat performance upstairs—when a knock cracked through the quiet.
We both froze.
Her brows pinched. “That’s odd ...”
I shrugged. “Maybe one of your sisters?”
Her smile flickered. “They don’t patiently wait outside.”
My shoulders straightened instinctively. “You want me to get it?”
She hesitated, then nodded as her gaze landed on the front door. “Yeah. Okay.”
I padded to the door and pulled it open—only to come face-to-face with Brian.
He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and hadn’t enjoyed it. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled and untucked, and he was holding Winnie, who was clinging to his shoulder, flushed and sniffling with her face pressed against his neck.
Brian’s gaze flicked over my bare chest with a flash of surprise.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, his tone laced with embarrassment. “Winnie’s not feeling great. Said she wanted her mom.”
Brian looked wrecked. His jaw was tight, his gaze impatient as it flicked past me.
I had barely processed the words before Selene was beside me, reaching for her daughter with the kind of calm urgency I’d only ever seen in mothers. Her voice dropped an octave—low,soothing, steady—as she ran a hand over Winnie’s hair and felt her forehead.
