“Me too.”
He brushed his fingers through my hair and I pushed into his touch. “We’re together. Is that stuck in your head now? Because I can do this again if you can’t get it through your skull.”
“May need semiregular reminders.” I buried my face against Jayce’s chest, and thankfully he didn’t stop massaging my scalp and playing with my hair.
He slid a hand down to my ass and squeezed. The burst of pain rolled over me and had me feeling mellow, calm, and… happy. “That should do for a few days, Lamb.”
Nodding, I whimpered. Jayce moved, and the next thing I knew he had me under him. The pressure on my ass was excruciating and wonderful. He used a knee to spread my legs, and I held my breath as he settled all of his body on top of mine so I was pressed firmly to the mattress. He laced his fingers through mine and rested his weight on my arms to lean up. I could see his eyes glinting in the low light that filtered through the curtains from outside.
“I’m happier than I ever remember being because of you, Lamb. I—I finally don’t feel guilty about that.”
My chest went light like I’d swallowed a giant bubble, good and bad at the same time, but after a few seconds that sensation resolved firmly into something fantastic. “I… I am too. Happy. I don’t want this to go away, Sir.”
He leaned down and kissed me, and I wallowed in the safe feeling of being trapped against the bed by all of his strength. “Then stay. Stay here. Be my boy, River. I don’t give a fuck what we call each other. I don’t care if I’m your Sir or your Master or whatever other fucking thing there is out there. I just want you to belong to me.”
“Yes, Sir. I want that too.”
He leaned in to kiss me and slid his hands down my arms. Carefully he rolled to the side and pulled me against him again. I lay awake for a long time with my cheek on his chest and his hand gently squeezing my ass as I nudged my leaking cock against his thigh. I knew I wasn’t allowed to come again tonight, even if he hadn’t said so, and I knew he wasn’t going to fuck me, either. He was creating hell in my body just for the fun of it. Jayce, my Sir, was more than I could have ever hoped for, and in spite of what he said, he was more than I deserved.
But that was okay. I was a bad guy when you got right down to it, and I would take this flawless, beautiful emotion he’d somehow crammed into my chest, that I still didn’t have a name for, and run with it—or rather, I’d stay in his arms, where we both wanted me to be.
Epilogue
Jayce
Iglanced around the kitchen looking high and low for my timer. I couldn’t find it anywhere, and I swore I’d just had it.
“What are you making so much noise searching for?” River asked as he strode into the room, looking relaxed in a turtleneck jumper and a pair of jeans, feet bare as he padded toward me. He curled his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder, getting in nice and close for a hug.
I wrapped my arms around him, dragging him as close to me as I could, and he let out a breathy little sigh. He smelled like soap, but he’d only just been for a shower so that wasn’t a surprise. His hair was still wet, clinging to his forehead. It had taken him months to feel this comfortable with me even though I’d promised him we would still be a thing after arrests were made.
“My timer.” I kissed the heated skin in front of his ear. His cheeks were flushed, probably from the scorching hot water he used whenever he took a shower. I preferred it a lot cooler. “I’m trying to cook this steak just right.”
He rolled his eyes when he pulled back to pop a kiss on my lips. “Sir, it’s your brother. I don’t think Bishop cares how you cook the steak.”
“Then you don’t know Hayden,” I said pointedly. He knew I hated it when he called him Bishop and was clearly doing it on purpose. “He likes his steak rare, too fucking rare if you ask me. The bloke’s a tiger, chomping for some bloody meat.”
River snorted, shaking his head as he tugged out of my arms and walked toward a set of drawers closer to the sink. “You and your animal analogies.” He yanked open one of the drawers and showed me the prize he found inside—my timer. “You put it in here a couple of nights ago. Are you losing your memory?”
“No, I just enjoy having you here to help,” I teased, taking it off him and giving him another kiss. While River hadn’t officially moved in yet, he spent all of his time here with me. It’d been six months since we handed over Jason Bolton and proof of Brickton’s involvement in a sex trafficking ring—six months since we saw Brickton being carted out of his mansion dead on the local news.
River walked toward the dining room connected to the kitchen and fell into the closest seat at the table. He stared down at the papers he had spread across it and I pushed away the urge to tell him to pack it up. There came times when I realized that being a lawyer meant a lot of paperwork, and if I wanted him at home and not doing it at the office I had to allow this sort of thing. If he spent too much time on it, though, I usually gave him orders to put it away. He mostly followed those orders, but there were times when he pushed his luck and pretended to not hear, just so I’d put him in handcuffs and spank him one way or another.
“They’ll be here in an hour,” I said, throwing the timer on the counter and walking toward him. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and he leaned into me. “Don’t you think you should put that away soon, Lamb? You know what Destiny’s like. He likes gossip.”
River huffed, and I laughed because I knew how much River liked pretending Destiny annoyed him, when in actuality he really liked him. “I think he’s the one who needs to be put over a knee and spanked.” He started to pile his paperwork together anyway.
My laughter grew louder. “He’s not my type.”
“I didn’t mean you,” he snapped a little harsher than usual. I enjoyed his possessiveness, though he liked to pretend he wasn’t. “I meant from the other Brit.”
“We’re only half Brit, Lamb.” I enjoyed seeing the way he glared. If I’d learned anything about River it was that he hated being corrected. “Now, put all of this away and come help me cook.”
“You know I don’t cook.” He stood and filed the papers into his briefcase that rested against the leg of the table before he clipped it up and turned to me.
“That’s not me asking, Lamb. That’s an order. Now.” I crooked my finger at him and turned, striding back into the kitchen.
“Yes, Sir,” River said, his voice a touch deeper. His footsteps told me he was following me, and when I got to the stove I pointed at the fridge.
