I trace the curve of her face with my eyes, memorizing every detail like I'm afraid it'll disappear. The slight part of her lips as she breathes. The tiny scar behind her ear from when she fell ten years ago, before I was there to be her shadow, her phantom. The flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks.
I should be exhausted. But I can't sleep. Won't sleep. If Iclose my eyes, I might miss something. Or worse, wake up to find this was all some fucked-up dream my desperate brain conjured up.
My fingers hover above her skin, not touching, just feeling the heat radiating from her. I took her virginity. That thought keeps circling in my head like a fucking shark. Her blood was on my cock. Inside her is my cum, probably still leaking out of her. The most primal part of me is fucking thrilled at the idea of her walking around tomorrow with my seed dried on her thighs.
But another part is spiraling.
What the fuck did I do?
I've spent years keeping my distance, fighting against every instinct to claim her, to ruin her. And in one night, I gave in to all of it. I marked her body and her soul permanently. That shit changes a man. Rewires his fucking DNA. She's in my bloodstream now, an addiction I have no interest in kicking.
I've ruined her. Perfect, bright Reese who dances like she's made of fucking starlight—I've tainted her with my darkness. She deserves someone gentle, someone who doesn't think about bending her over and fucking her ass until she cries. Someone who doesn't get hard thinking about choking her until she's on the edge of consciousness while she comes on his cock.
Not me. Not this fucking monster who stayed awake all night watching her sleep like some kind of psychopath.
But I love her. Fuck, I love her so much it physically hurts, like someone's carved out my insides and replaced them with broken glass. I haven’t said those words toanyone since my mother died, but they're there, stuck in my throat, threatening to choke me.
A small noise escapes her throat as she shifts in her sleep, one leg thrown over mine, her face burrowing into my chest. My cock twitches against her thigh, already wanting her again. Fucking insatiable for her.
She moans softly, her lips forming my name in that half-conscious state between dreams and reality. The sound goes straight to my dick, making it throb against her warm thigh. I freeze, not wanting to wake her, but fuck if I don't want to slide inside her again.
"Ramsey," she whispers, her voice thick with sleep as she rolls over.
I hear the sharp hitch in her breath, watch as she clenches her thighs together. A tiny wince crosses her face, even in sleep. She's gotta be fucking sore as hell after what I did to her.
"Jesus Christ," she mumbles, eyes still closed, "you drove a Mack truck through my vagina."
A bark of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."
Her eyes flutter open, hazel irises still cloudy with sleep as they focus on my face. Her lips curl into a small smile that hits me like a fucking sledgehammer to the chest.
"Hey," she says, voice raspy.
"Hey yourself." I brush a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her cheek. "How bad is it?"
She stretches, wincing again. "Like I've been split in half. Your dick should come with a warning label."
"Sorry," I mutter, not feeling sorry at all. In fact, someprimitive part of me is fucking thrilled that she'll feel me between her legs all day.
"No, you're not," she says, reading my mind like she always does. "You look way too pleased with yourself."
I smirk, feeling like the fucking king of the world. "You're right. I'm not sorry at all. In fact, I'm pretty fucking proud of myself." I lean over and press a kiss to her forehead. "Come on, I'll make you breakfast."
She groans but doesn't protest when I pull away and grab a pair of sweatpants from my dresser. I don't bother with a shirt.
Ten minutes later, I'm in the kitchen mixing pancake batter, still riding the high of having Reese in my bed. I’m so lost in my head about what we did last night I almost don’t hear her come in.
Turning around, my jaw nearly hits the floor. She's wearing my black Nike hoodie—my brand new one that I just fucking bought last week—and nothing else from what I can tell. Her hair is wet, slicked back from her face, and her legs are bare, showing off the bruises on her thighs from where I held her down.
"You had to grab my new hoodie?" I ask, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. She looks fucking edible, drowning in my clothes.
She shrugs, the movement making the hoodie slip off one shoulder. "It's the least you could do after putting my lady bits out of commission," she says, limping dramatically to one of the barstools at the kitchen island. "Now feed me, you monster."
I laugh, turning back to the stove to pour thefirst pancake. "Monster, huh? Didn't hear you complaining last night when you were begging for more."
"Shut up," she mumbles, but I can hear the smile in her voice. "I was delirious from the orgasms I didn’t have to give myself."
"Delirious, my ass. You loved every fucking second of it."
