Her second orgasm crashed over her without warning, stealing her breath, her vision, her ability to think. This time, he followed her over, a hoarse shout torn from his throat as he pulsed deep within her.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, just breathed against each other, bodies slick with sweat. Then he rolled to the side, taking her with him, keeping them connected as he gathered her close.
“Didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth on you,” she murmured against his chest, enjoying the hammer of his heart under her cheek.
He huffed a laugh. “Neither did I.”
She traced a gold-streaked pattern on his skin. “I love it.”
His arms tightened around her, and one hand lazily stroked her back. “I love you. Here. With me.” He shifted, and she realized he was hard again.
“Oh my God. Already? You’re insatiable.”
“Apparently.” He turned her back toward him and stroked a hand over her ass before gripping his cock and finding her entrance again. With a slow, easy thrust, he filled her. “Is this okay?”
“More than okay,” she sighed, pushing back against him, taking him deeper. This time was different—languid, unhurried. His hand slid around to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple as he rocked into her from behind. “I could get used to this.”
“Good,” he murmured against her neck. “Because I plan on waking you up like this every morning.”
She smiled and covered his hand with hers, guiding it lower until his fingers found her clit. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
They moved together slowly, with her pushing back into his every lazy thrust.
“Magnolia.” He murmured and pressed his forehead against her shoulder. She’d always hated her full name, but not on Anson’s lips. He made it sound like a prayer. “My Magnolia.”
Something thunked against the window.
Anson jerked upright, instantly alert. “What the fuck?”
Bramble lifted his head from his bed on the floor and grumbled.
“Merry Christmas, lovebirds!”
“River,” she groaned, burying her face against the pillow. “Worst timing ever.”
“I’m going to kill him.” He kissed her and withdrew from her body, and she instantly felt empty without him.
She sat up and dragged the sheet over her breasts, smiling as she watched him dress. The gold paint glinted with his every movement in the morning light.
A second thunk on the window.
Anson stalked over, yanked the curtain back, and shoved open the window a couple of inches just as River wound up to throw a third snowball. “Don’t even think about it.”
River’s grin was visible even from a distance. He gave an exaggerated bow, then called out, “Just making sure you two didn’t miss the festivities. Nessie made cinnamon rolls!”
“We’ll be there,” Anson grumbled. “Now go away.”
“Is that any way to thank the guy who took care of your kittens all night while you two?—”
“GO. AWAY.”
River laughed, tossed the snowball in the air, and caught it, then sauntered off, whistling “Jingle Bells” with obnoxious cheerfulness.
Anson closed the window and turned back to her, his scowl softening as his gaze traced over her body.
“I should be annoyed, but I’m actually glad he took care of the kittens.” She stretched languidly, the sheet slipping to reveal more skin. “Though we should probably get them back soon.”
