Then I was on her, my body covering hers, my cock pressing against her thigh. She spread her legs, her knees falling open, and I settled between them, the head of my cock notching against her entrance.
“Last chance to tell me to stop,” I growled.
She wrapped her legs around my hips, her heels digging into my ass. “I’d rather you just fucking moved.”
This woman was something else. I didn’t need to be told twice. I thrust into her in one deep stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She cried out, her nails raking down my back, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not when she was tight and wet and finally mine.
I set a punishing pace, my hips snapping against hers, the bed creaking under us. She met me thrust for thrust, her body moving with mine like we’d been made for this. Her low moans drove me harder, faster.
“Torin—please?—”
“I’ve got you.” I grunted and slid my hand between us. My fingers found her clit. I circled, applied pressure where she needed it, and she shattered with a cry, her body clenching around me.
The sensation pushed me over the edge. I buried my face in her neck, my release tearing through me, my cock pulsing inside her as I came harder than I ever had before. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of our ragged breathing and the weight of my body pinning hers to the mattress.
Then she turned her head, her lips brushing my ear. “Took you long enough.”
I huffed out a laugh, rolled onto my side and pulled her with me. She came willingly, her body fitting against mine like she belonged there because there was no doubt in my mind that she did.
“You were worth the wait,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
She hummed, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. “We’re going to have to do that again. Soon.”
I groaned, my cock twitching at the thought. “Give me ten minutes.”
She laughed, the sound warm and real, and I felt the truth settle in my chest. I was already in too deep.
CHAPTER 8
CLAIRE
The morning light crept through the curtains, soft and golden, painting stripes across the old quilt. I blinked against the brightness, my body sore and sated in the best way. Then I registered the warmth at my back, the solid weight of an arm draped over my waist, big fingers curled just under my ribs.
Torin.
I lay still, listening to the quiet of the house, the creak of the floorboards settling, the distant hum of the refrigerator, the slow, even rhythm of his breathing behind me. His chest rose and fell against my back, his body relaxed in a way I hadn’t seen before. Not guarded. Not on duty. Just present.
It should’ve felt strange. Waking up next to someone after years of sleeping alone, in a bed that wasn’t even mine, in a house that still carried the ghost of my aunt’s presence. But it didn’t. It felt… right. Like something I’d been missing without realizing it.
I shifted slightly, testing the weight of his arm. He didn’t move, just exhaled slowly, his breath warm against the back of my neck. A smile tugged at my lips. Torin Thompson, the man who never let his guard down, was sound asleep and totally defenseless in my bed. The thought sent a flicker of warmth through me, low and sweet.
I turned carefully, sliding onto my back so I could see him. His face was softer in sleep, the usual sharpness of his jaw relaxed, his lashes dark against his skin. A lock of hair fell across his forehead, and without thinking, I reached up to brush it back.
His eyes fluttered open. For a second, he just looked at me, his gaze sleep-heavy and warm. Then the corner of his mouth quirked. “Morning.”
His voice was rough with sleep, deeper than usual. It did something to me, sent a shiver down my spine. “Morning.”
He didn’t pull away. Just lay there, his arm still wrapped around me, his thumb tracing slow circles against my side. The sheet had slipped low, barely covering my breasts, but I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t want to hide from him. His gaze dropped for a moment, then lifted back to my face, something dark and hungry flickering in his eyes.
“You’re dangerous like this,” he murmured.
I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“All soft and warm.” His hand slid up, his palm cupping my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. “No walls. No arguments.”
I arched into his touch, my breath catching. “I have arguments.”
“Not right now, you don’t.” His mouth found mine and he kissed me slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. Like we weren’t in my aunt’s house, like there wasn’t a town full of people who’d have opinions about this. Like it was just us.
