I ease my fingers out of him. Wipe them on the towel I tossed on the bed earlier and pull Sab in for a hug.
He trembles in my arms, heart hammering beneath the palm I splay over it, skin sheened with sweat and the cum we’ve smeared between us.
We should clean up.
Get a drink maybe, before I see if he wants to go again. Or do something else. But as Sab melts against me, none of it seems important. I hold him close, as awed by his surrender as he seems to be. A wonder that merges with the ache in my chest to become a holy thing I can’t even begin to make sense of.
It’s a while before I realise he’s not with me anymore. That he’s drifted off. That he’ssleepingin my arms, his cheek pillowed on my collarbone, his leg still hooked over my hip.
I shift onto my back, taking him with me. Snag a sheet and tug it over us. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to truly sharing my bed with someone, and stop the fecking lights, it feels good.
Too good, a voice in my head whispers.He’s not yours to keep.
But Sab Dubois, he has the power, and I shove those thoughts aside to bask in the weight of him against me. The sheer warmth. I let myself trace him, with my eyes, and the lightest sweep of my thumb over his cheekbone.
Christ, he has long lashes and a mouth so kissable it hurts.
That velvet jaw.
The subtle divot between his dark brows.
He was built to be admired. To be worshipped. My hands wander without thinking, stroking through his short hair, skimming his strong shoulders and smooth back, muscles still jumping, even as he sleeps.
Even as he hums and shiftscloser.
Lord, he’ll probably never know how rare this is for me. That if I’m honest, how fecking new. I love sex—I’m good at it, maybe. But satisfaction doesn’t come close to the alien emotion rolling through my veins as we lie together in the dark. Him in dreamland, me bewitched by the kind of contentment that rewrites a man, claiming parts he never meant to give away. I’mhappy, I realise, and I cling to the feeling for the hour or so Sab sleeps in my arms. I’mright therewhen he wakes up, to catch him as his eyes spring open to unfamiliar surroundings.
“Easy. You’re in my bed. It’s not that late, your phone’s quiet, everything’s fine.”
Sab blinks, gaze darting around before it lands on me, awareness washing over him. “I have no idea where my phone is.”
“It’s on the floor by your socks. Hasn’t made a sound.”
I loosen my hold so he can check.
He doesn’t move. Just stares at me, before sweetly nuzzling my cheek. “I didn’t mean to pass out on you.”
“I liked it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I, uh, I don’t usually bring people to my actual bed.”
“That couch has seen some action, hein?”
“Oui,” I say in my thickest Kerry accent. “But this is better. I should do it more often.”
Withhimis what I mean to say. But though I wasn’t lying when I told Sab it wasn’t that late, it’s not early either, and he made me come like the apocalypse was bearing down on us. My brain is mush and I don’t realise what I’ve said until Sab shifts away from me.
The movement is subtle. I can’t be sure it’s even happened, but fear that he’s about to leave hits me like a fecking freight train. Has me tugging him tighter against me so I can rub my jaw along his. “You’re so pretty when you sleep.”
Sab snorts, scepticism creasing his face.
I don’t push it.
I take his hand. “Take a shower with me?”
An invitation I can only extend thanks to Nash. One I’m not sure Sab will accept, until he does and we’re naked together under the hot spray, getting as dirty as we are clean.
