Jackson looks utterly wrecked.
Owned.
Mine.
Leaning my head down, I brush my lips against the heated skin of his stomach, sweeping my tongue through the valley ofhis abs, collecting some of his cum into my mouth. Then I kiss him again, another slow, lazy taste of his lips and his pleasure.
When I finally force myself to pull away, I pick up my shirt from the foot of the bed and gently wipe the rest of the cum off his stomach.
Lying beside Jackson, I pull him to me until his leg is draped over both of mine and he’s snuggled into my side.
He inhales a deep breath and lets it all out along with a, “Wow.”
I chuckle. “I agree.”
Holding him close, I trace little circles on his back. He sighs contentedly and places his hand on my chest, dragging his fingertips down. It feels as though he needs the contact as much as I do.
With my free hand, I reach for his, lacing our fingers together once more.
“I love your hands,” I say, brushing my thumb along the length of his. “They fit so perfectly with mine.”
He peers up at me, a brilliant, beautiful smile on his face, his emerald eyes sparkling. “I thinkwefit pretty perfectly too.”
“So do I.”
He holds my hand a little tighter, burrows into my side a little closer, and I find myself hoping he never leaves.
I wake to warmth, aheat that wraps around me, heavy and safe, making me sink deeper into the sheets. I keep my eyes closed, letting myself feel his slow, steady breath against my shoulder, the weight of his hand resting across my waist like he meant to hold on even in sleep.
Then I open my eyes.
Isaac’s blinds are still drawn, but the room is a dim blue with early winter light. His hair is a mess across the pillow, brown strands falling over his forehead. Without the tight line of his mouth or the tension he usually carries in his shoulders, he looks…peaceful. Young. Younger than the man who stood toe-to-toe with my father last night. Younger than the professor who commands a room with nothing but his voice.
This version of him, soft and unguarded, is one I’ve never seen before.
It hits me then, so hard and so sudden that I don’t have time to doubt it.
I want to protect this.
I want to protecthim.
I lie there for another second, memorizing the line of his mouth, the faint tilt at the corner of his lips, the way hiseyelashes rest on his cheeks. I’m scared to ruin it just by breathing too loud.
Careful not to wake him, I slip from beneath his arm and out of bed. I find my underwear on the floor and wince as I slide them up over my ass, still sore from last night. As I walk out of the bedroom, I realize I’m soreeverywhere. It’s like I can still feel him inside me.
The reminder only makes me smile.
The floorboards are cool beneath my bare feet as I pad down the hallway toward the kitchen. The bag I brought with me yesterday is still by the barstool where I dropped it. I pick it up and reach inside, pulling out the box wrapped in red and gold paper.
I carry it back to the bedroom, and when I step inside, Isaac is already stretching, his eyes blinking open when the floor creaks, first unfocused, then sharpening the moment they find me.
He smiles, soft and warm, like he’s relieved I’m still here.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
I climb onto the bed beside him. “Morning.”
He reaches for me, his fingertips sweeping over my hip like he wants to make sure I’m real. I lean down and kiss him, slow and unhurried. He cups the back of my neck, holding me close, clearly not caring about my morning breath.
