The last of my climax fades away in a lingering shudder, and I drop my head to her shoulder too.
“Not—falling—asleep,” she whispers. “Holy hell, that was good.”
“You’re good.”
“You’re better.”
My arms are wrapped around her, one around her waist, one under her ass, and I don’t want to let go.
I don’t ever want to let go.
I want this moment—both of us catching our breath, our bodies still connected, the scent and taste of her surrounding me—I want to live in this moment forever.
This moment where I believe in love.
In peace.
In clarity.
In us.
Her fingers drift through my hair, still too short, still foreign, but I’m glad she was the one who cut it.
“Davis?” she whispers.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you for being the best part of this insane week.”
I hug her tighter.
She hasn’t been the best part of this week for me.
She’s been the best part of my whole life.
34
Sloane
After the mostthorough two-person shower I’ve ever had in my life, where I miraculously stay awake despite someone using his fingers to give me one more orgasm, we head toward the house for breakfast.
“Nobody else is up yet,” Chuck tells us.
“Shocking,” Davis says dryly, which cracks both me and Chuck up.
Once we’re inside, Davis slides me a look. “Want to be bad?”
“Yes.” I slap a hand over my mouth while he grins. “I meanthow? I didn’t meanyes. I meantwhat are you thinking?”
He whispers something in my ear that I should definitely say no to.
I’ve seen enough treasure hunt movies to know this is a bad idea.
But also—fuck it.
The entire state police force is now looking for Patrick. The mortar ball remnants and the skeleton were removed from the cabin yesterday.
What’s the worst that will happen?
