“You’re ridiculous,” I manage, but the sound of his voice and the heat of his skin have already undone every ounce of resolve I tried to muster.
“Okay,” I say quietly, giving in. “You’re forgiven. But only because you beg so pretty.”
He draws back a little, tilting his head, mouth quirking at the corner. “I love you, Noah Adams, and I’d let you ruin my sleep every night for the rest of my life if it meant waking up like this.”
The way he says it leaves me breathless for a second, all the jokes falling away until it’s just the two of us, raw and real, barely awake but more alive than I’ve felt in years.
“Good,” I murmur, pulling him down for a slow, drawn out kiss. “Because I don’t want to sleep alone anymore.”
He kisses me back, soft and lingering, then flops back on his side, dragging me with him until we’re tangled together again. His fingers trace absent patterns over my hip, caressing the stretch marks mottling my skin. They’ve always made me feel self-conscious, but Damien doesn’t seem to mind that they’re there—not with the way he’s touching them.
Damien breaks the silence with a low, teasing grumble. “Do you want to get up?” he asks, voice muffled in my hair.
I consider it, but shake my head, snuggling closer. “Not yet. It’s Saturday. I don’t have to move.”
He hums his agreement, squeezing me tighter. “Good. I wasn’t planning on letting you go anyway.”
For a long while, we lie there listening to the muffled chaos of the house waking up.
Eventually, my stomach growls loud enough to make Damien laugh.
“Alright, c’mon, Blue,” he says, pushing up on one elbow and grinning down at me. “Let’s go see if there’s any food left before Luca eats it all.”
I groan, grabbing the hem of his shirt as he tries to get up. “Or we could just stay here and make out until everyone leaves the house.”
He pretends to consider, then shakes his head. “Tempting, but I’d like you to eat something first, yeah?”
I sigh, but let him pull me up, dragging the sheet with me as I try to cover my morning wood. Damien wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my shoulder.
I feel the scrape of his stubble trail across my skin as he noses along my neck, and I let my eyes flutter shut, melting into the sensation. “I’m not really hungry for cereal,” he mutters against my skin.
My breath catches. “No?”
His hand slides down, slipping beneath the sheet I’m clutching, until it grazes over the very obvious problem I’ve got tented. He lets out a quiet, sinful sound—half groan, half laugh—and I swear, I feel it in my spine.
“You’re hard,” he murmurs, dragging the sheet down slowly.
I start to twist, ready to tease him, but the look in his eyes when I meet them over my shoulder stops me. His grin is lazy, but the heat behind it isn’t. He leans in and nips at the back of my neck, dragging his mouth slowly along my shoulder, voice dropping to something rough and still sleep-warm.
“Lie back for me a sec.”
I ease down into the pillows, watching as he shifts beside me, the sheets pooling low around his hips. He brushes my hand gently away from where I’m trying to keep myself covered, then leans over me and says, voice sinfully soft, “Let me take care of that.”
Before I can ask what he means, he slides down the bed, eyes never leaving mine until he’s level with my hips. He kisses my thigh first—just a slow, warm press of lips that sends my whole body sparking as he nudges my boxers down inch by inch.
When they’re gone, his hand slides up my inner thigh, pushing my legs farther apart, thumbs spreading me open. I feel hisbreath before I feel his mouth, warm and steady, right where I need him most.
“Mmh,” he hums, lips wrapping around the crown, eyes flicking up to watch my reaction. “Tastes like you need this bad.”
I try to respond, but my throat locks up when he takes more of me in, his mouth warm and wet and eager. He’s not teasing anymore. He sucks me in slowly, watching as his jaw accommodates the size, and when his lips slide lower than I expect, I nearly see stars.
“Damien—god—too much,” I pant, but I don’t mean it. Not even close.
He moans low, sending a vibration through me that nearly finishes the job right there. I can feel him adjusting his position, bracing one arm over my hip to hold me still while the other slides under my ass, lifting me slightly, settling me where he wants me.
My mind blanks out.
His mouth is so warm—wet and soft but greedy, his tongue working me over with the kind of confidence that makes me lose the ability to do anything but gasp and hold on. He’s slow at first, teasing, flicking his tongue over the sensitive spot just under the head, sucking there until my thighs shake.
