Pickle:I’ll miss you tonight
Pen:Why? Won’t you see me later?
Pickle:I didn’t want to wake you
Pen:oh. If you don’t want to come over that’s fine
Pickle:PEN. I’m trying to play it cool. If you want to know the truth, I’d rather be with you whatever the time
Pen:Good. Then get your hot ass over here ASAP
Pickle:God, you’re romantic
Pen:I’ve got more where that came from, baby
Pickle:Sweet talker
Pen
I drift up from layers of deep sleep to find his firm body pressed up against my back, his arm around my waist, wide palm gently rubbing my bare belly.
Little shivers of pleasure skip along my skin as he softly kisses my neck, the curve of my shoulder, then back again. I lean further into him, letting my body meld with his. His hand eases upward to cup my breast. He gives it a squeeze. White cotton sheets rustle as I turn in his arms to face him. The low glow from the bedside light I left on for him spills over the bed, warm and butter yellow and make his eyes appear pewter.
“Sweets,” he whispers in greeting.
“Pickle.” I kiss him with sleepy languor, running my fingers through his silky hair, along the strong column of his neck where his pulse beats strong and sure.
When we break apart, he smiles softly. “Best welcome I’ve ever had.”
“There’s more where that came from.”
His chest rumbles with a chuckle. “Does that mean I have permission to sneak into your house at all hours and wake you up in any devious way I see fit?”
“Describe these devious ways. I’m intrigued.”
He laughs again and hauls me up so I’m resting on his long length. He’s so much bigger than me, my toes brush his shins. Gentle fingers thread through my hair, pushing it away from my face.
“My little pervert,” he says fondly. “I love how much you love fucking.”
“Now, who’s the pervert?” I rest my chin on my hands and gaze down at him. He’s utterly beautiful like this, dark hair mussed and his strong body at total ease. “I do, though.”
“Do what?” He’s distracted by touching my cheek, and then the shell of my ear again. The man loves touching me. All the time.
“Love fucking you.”
August bursts out laughing, his body shaking beneath mine. “God, I’ve created an addict.”
“Your addict.”
He pauses at that, eyes alight with something that looks like joy, and his voice lowers. “Are you?”
The way he asks, as if he can’t believe it might be true. Itamazes me. I’m the one constantly wondering if I’m in a dream. Craning forward, I brush a kiss over his soft mouth.
“I’m yours, August.” I’ve been his for as long as I can remember. One day I’ll tell him. One day, I’ll have the courage.
This day, however, August merely hums thoughtfully and pulls me forward to kiss me again. “And if I want to keep you?”
His low murmur takes my breath. It gusts from my mouth and into his. He must feel how he’s shocked me, how he’s stolen my heart. August eases back to meet my gaze, but he doesn’t stop touching me, gentle quests of his hands over my body.
