“Yes,” she sniffles. “I’m so good, Keller.” She pulls away, and I catch sight of a single tear cascading down her cheek.
I swipe it away. My strong, sassy, confident girl... crying. Maybe she isn’t as tough as she seems. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just... that was so intense.”
“Intense is good.”
“I know, I just wasn’t expecting to feel like...” She looks away, but I gently force her to look me in the eyes by touching her jaw.
“You didn’t expect it to feel like what?”
Her beautiful eyes shine up at me. “To feel like coming home.”
And just like that, I feel my heart soften, and my thoughts, my ideas of what I can and cannot have, wash away into the past. This right here, this woman, she’s mine.
I cup her cheek gently and kiss her. “Same, love. I feel the same exact way.”
ChapterSeventeen
LILLY
Keller returns from the bathroom, after helping me clean up, and stands in the doorway, in all his naked glory. His strong set of shoulders relaxed, not tense. The solid stack of abs taut from the workout he just gave them. And even though his penis is no longer hard, straining between his legs, it still looks heavy. I have to tear my eyes away, or else I’m going to be begging for another round.
But with that all being said, I’m unsure what he wants now.
I know we said some passionate things while in the moment, but now that he’s had me, what happens next? Do we sleep together? Do I go back to my room? I truly hate the “after sex” moment.
Cautiously, I sit up on his bed, the covers falling around my torso, and I ask, “So... do you, uh, do you want me to go back to my room?” I twist the sheets in my hand, hoping he says no.
Determination on his face, he struts toward me and leans on the bed as he grips my chin. Keeping our eyes connected, he says, “You’re mine, which means you sleep in my bed. Understood?” A smile spreads across my face as I steal a kiss, only for him to flatten me to the bed, his large warm body covering mine. His hand smooths over my cheek as he stares down at me. “How’s your head?”
“It hurts a little.” I wince.
His face flashes with concern. “Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have—”
I cover his lips with my fingers before he can say anything else. “Don’t. I just have a headache, that’s all.”
“I shouldn’t have been so rough.”
“You weren’t,” I reassure him. “I promise. You didn’t hurt me. You were so perfect.”
Still not pleased, he lifts from me and says, “I’m going to grab you some Ibuprofen and a drink.”
There’s no arguing with him as he slips on a pair of shorts and heads out of the room. There he goes again, needing to protect at all hours. So, I curl into his sheets and let out a heavy sigh.
I’ve had my fair share of sex before, the kinky kind that you only hear about, never experience, but they’ve never been as toe-curling, as satisfying, as what I just shared with Keller. There was an emotional level to our intimacy that I wasn’t expecting. His need to protect, to provide, translates into the bedroom, and he made me feel so safe, so important.
He always says I matter most, and that’s how he makes me feel. Like I truly matter.
I never realized how lost I was until I came here. I thought my life felt established. I had friends, some boyfriends here and there, still searching for the right one, and a thriving business. I thought that’s what life was about to survive: friends, a job, and a place to live.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth, especially for me.
For someone who lost the two most important people in her life, who lost her home, and her possessions, I need so much more than skimming the surface. I didn’t need a routine, I need depth.
I need this country, where it feels as if my mother is surrounding me.
These people, who share the same traditions as I did growing up.
