Finally, he presses a kiss to my temple. “Stay,” he murmurs. “Stay the night.”
I smile against his skin. “Wild bulls couldn’t drag me away.”
He snorts, his arm tightening around me. “Terrible joke.”
“You love it,” I tease, already feeling sleep pulling at me.
He doesn’t deny it, just pulls me closer. I settle against his chest, his heart beating low and steady against my ear, and wrapped in his warmth, follow the slow glide into a blissful sleep.
CHAPTER 10
thorne
(PUNNY TITLE)
Morning light filters through my blinds—sharp, clear beams that announce the day with precision. I’ve always been awake with the sun, my body attuned to its rhythms. But today is different.
Today, there’s a warm, soft body curled against mine, her breath shallow in sleep, her dark hair spilled across my pillow like ink. Lena. In my bed. The reality of it hits me anew, and something in my chest tightens, unfamiliar and dangerous.
I shift slightly, careful not to disturb her. In sleep, her face is softer, the mischief that usually animates her features momentarily at rest. Her lashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks, and her lips are slightly parted, still swollen from our night together. I could watch her like this for hours.
But I’m a morning person, through and through. And right now, I want her awake. With me.
I trace my fingertips lightly along the curve of her shoulder, down the slope of her side, to the dip of her waist. She stirs slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but doesn’t wake. I smile, leaning in to press my lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear, inhaling the scent of her—vanilla and sleep-warmth and the lingering traces of sex.
“Lena,” I murmur against her skin, my voice rough with morning and want. “Wake up.”
She makes a small sound of protest, burrowing deeper into the pillow. I chuckle, the sound vibrating through my chest as I trail my lips down her neck, to the junction of her shoulder, where I nip gently.
That gets her attention. She gasps, her body arching reflexively, and I feel her pulse jump beneath my mouth.
“Good morning,” I rumble, sliding my hand around to cup her breast, my thumb brushing over the nipple that hardens instantly at my touch.
“Mmm,” she manages, still half-asleep but responding beautifully to my touch. “Morning.”
I roll her onto her back, hovering over her, drinking in the sight of her—tousled and warm and mine, at least for this moment. Her eyes flutter open, dark and hazy with sleep, then sharpen as she focuses on me.
“Hi,” she whispers, a slow smile spreading across her face.
Instead of answering, I capture her mouth with mine. The kiss is soft at first, a gentle good morning, but it quickly deepens as she wakes fully, her hands coming up to tangle in my hair, fingers brushing the base of my horns in a way that sends electricity down my spine.
I growl into the kiss, my body already responding to her touch, hard and ready against her thigh. But this morning isn’t about me.
I pull back, pressing kisses down her throat, over her collarbone, taking my time. Her skin is like silk beneath my lips, warm and fragrant, and I map every inch of it with methodical attention.
When I reach her breasts, I pause, appreciating their perfect weight in my hands, the dusky mauve of her nipples. I take oneinto my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tight peak, and she arches beneath me, a breathy moan escaping her.
“Thorne,” she gasps, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Patience,” I murmur against her skin, moving to the other breast to give it the same treatment. I suck harder, using the edge of my teeth, and she whimpers, her hips lifting in search of friction.
I ignore her silent plea, continuing my journey downward, over the soft plane of her stomach, dipping my tongue into her navel, following the trail to the apex of her thighs. I settle between them, parting her legs wider, exposing her to my gaze.
She’s already wet, glistening with arousal, her cunt pink and swollen from our activities last night. The sight of her makes my cock throb, but I resist the urge to take her immediately. Instead, I lower my head, breathing in her scent—musky and sweet, intoxicating.
“What are you—” she starts, then breaks off with a gasp as I lick a long, slow stripe up her center.
She tastes like heaven—like salt and honey and something uniquely her. I explore her with my tongue, learning the terrain of her pleasure, noting what makes her thighs tremble, what draws those delicious sounds from her throat.
