His eyes opened and something in his expression made my breath catch. Heat. Possession. Something that looked dangerously like tenderness.
“Good morning,” I said softly.
“Morning.” He reached up and brushed the hair away from my face. “How do you feel?”
My body ached in ways I’d never experienced. Good ways. Ways that made me very aware of what we’d done last night. Ways that made me want to do it all over again despite the soreness.
“Sore,” I admitted.
His mouth curved. A devilishly wicked smile that I’d never seen before. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Means you’ll remember.” He pulled me closer, his mouth hovering over mine. “Means you’ll think about me every time you move today.”
Heat flooded through me. I’d seen all the sides of him, but not this devastatingly sexy side. This confident, possessive side that looked at me like I was his and he had no intention of letting me go.
Then he was kissing me. Slow and thorough and completely different from last night’s desperation. This was claiming. Possession. A promise of more. His hand slid down my spine, over the curve of my hip, pulling me flush against him. I could feel him hardening against my stomach, could feel my body responding despite the ache.
“Dalton,” I whispered against his mouth.
“I know. You’re sore.” He pressed a kiss to my jaw, my neck. “I’ll be gentle.”
“That’s not—” I gasped as his teeth scraped against my pulse point. “I wasn’t saying no.”
He lifted his head, eyes dark and intense. “No?”
“No.”
His smile was pure male satisfaction. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”
Last night had changed everything. I’d felt it in the way he’d touched me, the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d made love to me.
I knew I should just let myself melt into his touch and let tomorrow take care of itself. But I couldn’t.
I wanted too much from him.
“I can hear you thinking,” he said.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Then don’t think. Just be here. With me.”
But I couldn’t just be. Not when everything felt fragile and terrifying and too good to be real. Not when my heart was already so tangled up in this man that leaving would destroy me.
“The books are almost done,” I heard myself say. “Another week, maybe. Then there’s no reason for me to stay.”
His expression shifted. Hardened. “You think that’s the only reason I want you here?”
“I don’t know what you want, Dalton.”
“I just spent half the night inside you, Amber. I think my intentions are pretty damn clear.”
My face burned. “Sex isn’t—”
“This isn’t just sex.” He came off the bed, not bothering to cover himself up. I scrambled to my feet, clutching the sheet around me.
He thrust his fingers through his hair, looking at me from the other side of the bed. “If it was just sex, I wouldn’t have lost my mind when you called from that ditch. If it was just sex, I wouldn’t be trying to figure out how to convince you to stay.”
