24
LENA
Gavin’s soft exhalations brush my ears as I blink into consciousness the next morning. It’s barely dawn when I crack my eyes open to see the faintest bit of sunlight flickering through the trees behind the cabin. A strong arm is banded around my waist, and a leg is shoved between mine, holding me firmly in place like I might try to escape.
My muscles are spent and exhausted, my hair probably looks like a pair of eagles have built a nest in it, and my eyes are sticky around the edges—likely from a few tears that might’ve snuck out at some point last night.
Or this morning. Or whatever time it was when I awoke to Gavin sliding down my body and making me writhe against his tongue. His possessive grip on my thighs and murmured moans had me coming undone for him in minutes. Then he flipped me over, sliding between my thighs exactly how I needed him to. With whispered praise and one hand planted firmly over my tiger tattoo, he sent bursts of pleasure shooting through my veins until we collapsed together again.
It was paradise.
But the sun’s morning rays dancing through the windows have shattered our one night together.
I’d love to stay in this bed, in the safety of Gavin’s embrace, but my bladder has other plans. So I somehow manage to wiggle away from his arms without waking him and make it to the bathroom.
Staring back at me in the mirror is a woman I don’t recognize. Hair wild, pillow creases on her cheeks, smeared mascara around her puffy eyes.
I look like a woman who got fucked good and hard last night, and I’m kind of obsessed with it, honestly.
After finger-combing my hair and washing my face, I glance down at my naked body. My gaze lands on a small hickey on my inner thigh, right where Gavin’s mouth was in the hot tub.
Warmth swells in my chest. He’s marked me, and Iadoreit. I wish it was permanent so I could show it off to everyone. Get a tattoo of it.
I’m Gavin’s.
But the situation's devastating reality quickly steals my good mood.
One night. I made the rule, and over and over again, I repeated it to myself.
When he sank into me and the pressure was absolutely perfect.
When he kissed me ravenously as we came undone.
When he tucked me close to his chest and lulled me to sleep with his breaths.
One night.
And yet, here I am, wishing for more.
Opening the bathroom door as quietly as I can, I sneak to my side of the bed. Gavin’s lips are parted, eyes shut peacefully, with his strong arms wrapped around the spot where I used to be.
I should get dressed. Call Auggie to come get me. Sever the ties to this bed and this cabin and this naked man right now.
But my heart crumples at the thought of never being with him again. Never kissing, touching, or hearing him moan my name again.
I can’t do it. I can’t let that be the only time ever.
I don’t think I’ll survive it.
One more morning together will be fine, right?
Half of me is terrified of this idea. Scared that it will push me over the edge into addiction territory. Into a world where I can’t breathe without him. Can’t think without him.
But the other half is screaming that I’m already there. I’m already so far gone for him that one more time won’t hurt anything. It will merely give me an extra memory to hold on to when I’m failing to recreate it with my vibrator.
Lifting the covers, I scoot back into my spot, facing him this time, breathing in his masculine scent in case I never get to do it again.
“Mmm. Good morning,” he sighs as I settle against him. He presses a tender kiss to my forehead. “How did you sleep?”
