I watch them go from the doorway with Sab, and as they disappear into the frostbitten night, he turns to me with that question in his eyes again. One I answer with one of my own. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
Sab’s face does something beautiful, something fecking wondrous. “You want to stay with me? In my bed?”
I nod, emotion squeezing my heart. “Aye. More than anything.”
Sab’s bed smells like him. pinewood and vanilla. His sheets are soft and worn and I’m so comfortable, I can’t believe I’m still conscious as he pads around upstairs, checking on Esme, shutting doors. As he brings a baby monitor to the bedside table.
I’m sprawled on my back like I own the place.
He gives me a prolonged once-over, shyness creeping into his dark gaze. “I’ve never had a bloke in my bed before.”
“You should try it. I hear it’s fun.”
Sab rolls his eyes, but there’s no sting in it. He peels off his t-shirt and tosses it aside. He’s been wearing pyjama trousers all day, soft grey cotton sitting low on his hips. I wonder if he might leave them on, but he doesn’t. He pushes them down and steps out, leaving him in dark underwear that clings to his junk, and I try my hardest not to stare.
Okay. Maybe not my hardest. And by the time he slips under the covers, everything feels different. His bed is big enough for both of us to stretch out, but Sab lies close, skating a hand over my shoulder. “Are you warm enough?”
“You’re here. ‘Course I’m fecking warm.”
He smiles in the low light of the room, unguarded and soft. “That’s sweet, but Bhodi said you’d probably feel cold for weeks.”
“Bhodi didn’t factor you into the equation.”
His answering flush is subtle, but I catch it. The way his dark lashes lower and lips twitch, like he doesn’t know whether to smile or cringe.
I don’t call him on it, though. Instead I haul my sore body closer until that warmth surrounds me and my head finds a home on his shoulder, at one with the steady rise and fall of his chest.
And Christ, it feels different up here, in his room.
It feelsbetter.
Not like the mattress on my floor, or those nights on my couch and his, where neither of us stayed ’til morning. This is Sab’s home, his safe place. It’s not lost on me what a privilege it is to be here. Towantto be here.
In his bed.
In his arms.
I breathe him in, eyes heavy, body straining with bruises that scream if I move too fast. But there’s that ache too. Deeper. Sharper. Fuelled by his body shifting against mine, all heat and strength, as he presses his lips to my temple.
A light kiss. Absent, almost, but it stirs that restless hungry feeling inside me, and I tilt my head, craving the sensation of his velvet beard against my skin. Craving his mouth on mine, if I’m being honest, but I’m okay with him holding me tonight, and any night he wants to. And that’s how I know how real this is.
I don’t need frantic greedy sex.
I needhim.
And I think he knows it. The flush is still there, high on his cheeks, but so is something else.
Desire.
Want.
Sab holds my gaze in the soft amber glow, as if he’s waiting for permission. And I’m here for the shift in dynamic. I sink into it and let my head fall to one side, taking a shallow, shaky breath as his hand curves around my tender skull, cradling me like I’m made of glass. As he presses his lips to my throat in a gentle, unhurried kiss that has a raw groan rumbling from my chest.
I catch it in time.
Just.
Then I surrender to Sab as he licks a path from the hollow behind my ear, to my jaw, to my mouth. As he kisses me for real and every stupid thing I’ve said and done since I met him fades, every throttled emotion burned to a crisp in the slow fire that builds between us. A smoulder that has us writhing on his bed, the sheets kicked away, any chill in the air overwhelmed by the flames, the one blaze on this earth I’m happy to let burn.
