“Fuck, baby,” I growl, using my grip on her hair to pull her from my cock. It lands heavily against my stomach when it falls from her mouth. “If you keep going, I won’t be able to fuck you.”
I playfully toss her to the bed, and even in her current state, she lands against the mattress with a giggle. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
“No, we wouldn’t.” I climb between her thighs and drive the entirety of my cock inside her. The sudden fullness causes her back to arch off the bed. “The way this tight little pussy stretches for me, you can’t deny how eager you are to have me inside you.”
With my lips on hers and our tongues intertwined, I take her with long and languid thrusts. Her pussy repeatedly swallows every thick inch of me until she’s unfurling beneath me. Then on top of me. Screaming into the mattress as I kiss across the backs of her shoulders. Pinned beneath me once more with her fingertips dragging along the muscles of my back, her hips rising to meet mine.
I lose track of time and positions. Of the pain flaring across my chest, the bruises on us both, and the pieces of us still healing. We aren’t fucking. Not making love. We’re finding what we lost and making us whole again.
My cock grows more rigid as I fight the inevitable. Reese’s lower lip quivers as my hard length drags against her walls. “Yes… Daddy!” she cries out, her trembling thighs squeezing around my waist and dragging me deeper as she comes.
It’s my undoing, and I thrust in to the hilt. “Fuck, baby,” I breathe into the crook of her neck, filling her with my release. Capturing her lips again, I thrust into her cum-filled pussy until my cock starts to soften inside of her.
When we finally collapse against each other—breathless and shaking—the silence feels holy. My arms wrap around her waist and drag her across the mattress until there’s no space between us. Her labored breaths blow over the rise and fall of mine, and I can feel the faint hitch when my fingertips dust over the ticklish spot at the base of her spine.
With my lips on her temple, I whisper, “I love you, baby.”
My hand smooths down her spine, and I breathe her in. She curls closer, tucking herself beneath my chin and splaying her hand over my chest.
“Daddy.” She returns the soft tone, her voice breaking slightly. “I love you.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on my chest lifts. The guilt doesn’t vanish, but it fades. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to close my eyes and let the feel of her in my arms lull me toward sleep.
All that matters is this.
Us.
Alive.
Together.
For the first time in years, I wake up without alarms, gunfire, or the nightmares of my memories tearing me from the dark. The world is quiet—too quiet—but the soft weight in my arms reminds me I’m not dreaming.
Reese’s head rests against my chest, her breath blowing against my skin. One of her arms is draped across me and the other is tucked beneath her. I stay perfectly still, afraid to disturb her. She’s bruised and battered, but breathing. And that’s more than I dared to hope for forty-eight hours ago.
She stirs a little, murmuring something in her sleep before going still again. I trace my thumb along her arm, and her hand curls into my ribs. It hurts a little, but I don’t care. The sunlight spills through the curtains, painting her face gold. Her lashes flutter when she starts to wake, and the smallest, sleepiest sound leaves her throat when she shifts closer to me.
God help me, I never stood a chance with her.
Not the first time. Not this time. The truth is, she’s owned my heart since the first night I met her.
I press a kiss to her head and gently slide out from beneath her. She mumbles something incoherent and rolls onto her side, reaching for the empty space I left behind. I pause, hand on the edge of the mattress, and watch her for another second before pushing from the bed. After grabbing a pair of discarded sweatpants from the floor, I pull them on as I walk.
The floorboards creak as I head into the kitchen, my body reminding me I’m not exactly unscathed.Last night might’ve been too much exertion.Every step accentuates the dull throb in my ribs.
I fill a carafe with water and press the button to start the coffee pot. The bean grinder fires up, and I immediately regret the loud buzzing. Hoping it doesn’t wake her, I open the fridge to see what I can throw together for breakfast. I’m surprised to find it fully stocked.
Abby… She probably deserves a raise.
Filling my hands, I grab eggs, bacon, and butter before nudging the door shut with my elbow. I place it all on the counter beside the stove and note the loaf of bread beside the toaster.
She definitely deserves a raise.
On the stove, I warm a pan to make Reese’s breakfast. The sizzle of bacon fills the air, mixing with the rich, woody scent of coffee. I take a sip from my cup, resting it back on the counter to flip the eggs.
“Sincewhen do you cook breakfast?” I turn, spatula in hand, to find her leaning against the doorframe. My T-shirt hangs off her shoulder, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. She looks exhausted, but there’s color in her cheeks again, other than the bruising.
I smirk. “I had to learn when I didn’t have a beautiful co-ed to do it for me, because I stupidly left her.”
