He comes with a roar, hips jerking up, and I swallow as fast as I can. It's more than I expected. I sputter slightly. But I take it all, proud of myself for not pulling away.
The second I release him, he hauls me up his body and kisses me like he's drowning. Deep and filthy and possessive, tasting himself on my tongue.
"Perfect," he growls against my lips between kisses. "You're so fucking perfect. My good girl. My perfect little bunny."
I'm glowing under the praise, already addicted to making him proud.
We eventually have to leave the room. Check-out is at eleven and it's 10:45. I'm wearing my wrinkled dress from last night, sex hair barely contained in a ponytail, and I definitely have beard burn in interesting places.
Patricia's in the lobby because of course she is.
"Bunny! John! You missed brunch!”
“We were busy," John says flatly.
She takes in my appearance, his possessive hand on my back, the hickey on my neck I didn't know was there. "I see. Well. I guess the relationship is... real then.”
“Very real," John confirms.
Keith appears with coffee and a knowing grin. "Hey sis. Rough night?”
“Keith!"
"What? I'm happy for you. John seems like a good guy." He turns to John. "You are a good guy, right? Because I know where you live and I have access to a lot of sugar. Could do terrible things to your truck. Keith!" I'm mortified.
But John actually almost smiles. "She's safe with me. Always will be.”
“Good enough for me." Keith hugs me. "You look happy, Bun. Like, actually happy."
"I am," I whisper, and it's true.
Patricia clears her throat. "Well, I suppose I owe you an apology, Bunny. I didn't think... I mean, you two are clearly…”
“In love," John finishes firmly. "We're in love."
I look up at him, shocked. We haven't said those words yet.
He looks down at me, steady and sure. "I love you, little bunny. Should have said it last night.”
“I love you too," I breathe, not caring that we're in the middle of the lodge lobby with my family watching.
He kisses me, soft and possessive, marking his territory in front of everyone.
"Get a room!" Keith calls out.
"We did," John responds dryly. "You're interrupting our checkout."
Even Patricia laughs at that.
In John's truck, I'm floating. "You love me.”
“Obviously."
"It's not obvious! It's huge! It's—"
He reaches over, takes my hand. "Bunny. I'm thirty-six years old. Ex-military. I don't say things I don't mean. I love you. You're mine. End of story.”
“End of story?"
