I believe him.
Every word.
15
I stretch under the sheets, every muscle aching in that glorious, earned way. The kind of sore that has me blushing when I shift my hips and feel the evidence of last night’s very thorough efforts.
Sam’s arms are still locked around me, one slung heavy across my waist, the other tangled in my hair like he was afraid I’d disappear overnight. His chest rises slow and steady against my back, warm and solid, grounding me in the here and now.
I nestle closer, and his hold instinctively tightens.
God, this man.
Last night was… no, there’s no word for it. Life changing doesn’t even touch it.
He shifts behind me, lips brushing my bare shoulder. “Morning, darlin’.”
I tilt my head, catching his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. “Morning.”
His hand strokes down my stomach, low and possessive. “How you feeling?”
I bite back a groan. “Like I was fucked by a cowboy with the stamina of a god.”
He laughs smugly. “Back to the god thing, huh?”
“Don’t get cocky.”
He grins against my skin. “Too late. Damn, darlin’, you keep talking like that and I’m gonna get hard again.”
I snort and wriggle away, only half-playful as I flop onto my back.
“Not today, bucko. My vagina needs time to recover. She’s in critical condition.”
He props himself up on one elbow, eyes scanning my face with that mischievous spark and just a flicker of something softer behind it.
“I could bring her breakfast in bed. Flowers. Whisper sweet nothings to her.”
“She needs a heating pad and two ibuprofens.”
His grin widens. “Should I apologize or be proud?”
“Yes.”
He chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to my bare stomach, just above the sheet. “Then I’m very, very sorry and also incredibly proud.”
I laugh, fingers combing through his messy hair. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmurs, tracing lazy kisses across my skin, “you’re still in my bed.”
I glance around the room at the rumpled sheets, rope still coiled neatly on the nightstand, sunlight painting golden stripes across the floor and yeah. I am still here.
And something about that feels like more than just post-hookup aftermath.
It feels like the beginning of something.
Something dangerous.
Something real.
