“Yes, Liam.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yessss,” she whimpers, her back arching, her head thrashing against the pillow. “Yes. Yes. I’m yours. I love you?—”
That’s all it takes.
I drive into her in deep, greedy thrusts, and she cries out, coming instantly. It’s long, and it clenches around my cock, and I swear her eyes roll back in her head.
She comes so hard that it wrenches my own release free in a raw, guttural roar, my hips driving into her, fast and hard and helpless, lost in the vision of Emma.
Emma Reyes. The love of my life. The mother of my child.
Emma Reyes. Wild mass of curls against white sheets. Sweaty skin, peaked nipples, and pink cheeks.
Emma. Emma.Emma.
We lie together, tangled in the sheets, catching our breath, for a long time. My hand is splayed between her breasts. Her hand is on my thigh.
I could fuck her again, I swear. My cock stirs from just this slightest touch. It’s always been that way between us.
I pull her against me, drawing the blanket over both of us. She makes a soft, sleepy sound and melts into my chest.
A tiny yawn escapes her. “God… sorry.”
A low laugh rumbles out of me. “It’s late… I think. Honestly, I have no clue what time it is. Are you working tomorrow?”
“Yeah. At six.”
She lifts her arm just enough to brush her fingers along the bruise around my eye. The touch is soft, slow, almost reverent.
“Have I ever told you,” she murmurs, “that I think black eyes are kind of… sexy?”
I let out a low laugh and rest my forehead against hers.
“No,” I say softly, “but feel free to tell me again.”
She smiles, sleepy and wicked, and something inside me tightens. I kiss her once, slow and lingering, but then, realizing what she’s said and panicking a little, I twist to grab my phone and check the time. “Shit, it’s midnight. You should get some rest.”
She groans softly. “Yeah… probably.”
“Where does Laddie go while you’re at work tomorrow?”
“He’s going to his friend’s house,” she says, tracing lazy circles on my chest with her fingertips. “It’s New Year’s Eve. They’ll host a kids’ party overnight. I’ll pick him up in the morning.”
“Overnight?” I ask.
She smiles against my throat. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re picturing me all alone in this bed,” she whispers.
I swallow hard. “Maybe I am.”
Her breath catches, and she snuggles closer, her leg sliding between mine in a way that makes every nerve in my body wake up again.
“He likes it,” she continues quietly, pretending she didn’t just ignite every inch of me. “And they are oddly good at managing a group of kindergarten boys and keeping them entertained. The ER will be a zoo. Always is on holidays where there’s drinking and fireworks involved.”
