“Then what?”
“What do you mean?”
Mal wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I want to know if you’re coming home.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer. Just shifts on my bed, like he might get up.
My hand is on his chest in a flash, pushing him back down.
He lets me. I know that.
Maybe because he wants to do what happens next.
Flat on his back, his fingers clamped around my wrist, he drags me down, pulling my body flush to his.
His leg curls around my hips and I realise he’s as comfortable like this as he is on top of me. That he has vers vibes for days?—
Stop.
I don’t give a shit how Mal likes to fuck.
We’re not fucking.
But it’s a tough fact to swallow as he fits us together and rubs his jaw on mine, his free hand skating up my spine like he owns it. His mouth right fucking there as a rumbly whisper feathers my cheek.
“Thank you.”
It’s not necessary. His thanks or the obscene perfection of how our bodies slot together. I should thankhim. For the nutrients hitting my blood stream without the suffocating noose ofwrongchasing them down. For the wry sense ofhomeI’ve come to feel every time he touches me like this and the jolt of desire that eviscerates any lingering need to lose my loaded breakfast.
We’re both wearing sweatpants. There’s no hiding the effect this proximity has on us. I feel him hard against me and madness has me flexing my hips, muffling his answering groan with my mouth. With a kiss that’s a million miles from the sweetness we shared in the sunshine at the lagoon.
It’s rough.
Biting.
It’sbriefas common sense doesn’t take too long to return to me with the reason he’s in my bed in the first place hanging over us like a huntsman with a bow.
Panting, I wrench my mouth free. “You’re fucking dangerous.”
Mal just grins. “You want me in your bed, this is what happens.”
“I’mleavingyou in my bed, so good luck with that.” I pull away and out of his arms, even as every instinct I have screams at me tostay. “Get some more sleep before you try and get up.”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t have to be.”
Mal’s gaze flickers and he says no more as he watches me get my shit together to leave. He’s still only half in my bed. It shouldn’t matter. There’s every chance he’ll be on the beach running before I’m halfway to work.
But I want him in my bed.
I need it.
Or I’ll never leave.
I cross the room, returning to his side, and nudge his leg with my knee. “In.”
