Dax doesn’t touch his, but I don’t care. When this episode airs,he’llbe the meme—and I’ll be the woman who got her act together.
Thanks in no small part to the man who believed in me.
41
FUCK MORNINGS
CORBIN
I can barely keep my hands off her. The house is mine alone, so we go back to my place, and the second I shut the door, my fingers are in her hair.
“I want you to spend the night here. For the first time,” I say. The first of many.
“Do you now?” she teases.
“I really do, Mabel. Everything’s better when you’re with me—falling asleep next to you, waking up next to you, seeing you as often as I can. Working with you. Playing with you. Talking to you.” God, I sound like a sap. But I don’t care.
She slides a hand up my chest and curls her fingers around my collar. “Same,” she whispers, sounding more vulnerable than I’ve ever heard her.
Maybe soon I’ll tell her how I feel.
But right now, she brings her mouth to mine and kisses me ravenously—harder than she ever has before, more desperate. She’s all need and fire, and that trumps everything else.
We grab at each other’s clothes, kick off shoes, and stumble toward the staircase in a flurry of hands, teeth, and heat. At the bottom of the steps, I hoist her up, toss her over my shoulder, and carry her upstairs.
“It’s faster this way,” I say.
“Is it, or do you just like being all…protective?”
“How is this protective?”
“I’m sorry—possessive,” she corrects playfully as we reach the top.
I set her down, look her in the eyes. “Want me to show you how possessive I am while I fuck you?”
She trembles and nods.
Soon she’s flat on her back on my bed, shiny hair spilling across my pillow, moonlight streaming over her pale skin, her head tipped back, her throat exposed as I thrust into her—her wrists pinned above her head.
She moans beautifully.
Writhes.
Arches.
“This is how possessive I am,” I rasp.
“How?” she pants.
Letting go of her wrists, I lower myself closer, still moving inside her. “Mine. You’re mine. You’re all mine.”
Her lips part. She shudders. She whispers, “Yours,” before she comes.
And I follow her there.
Later, I’m yawning, and she is too. Exhaustion kicks in, but she tells me she needs to set her alarm. “I have to get up early and bake for my mom. I’ll need to grab a Lyft then too. I don’t have my car.”
“I’ll drive you,” I say, sleep tugging at my eyelids.
