“No—Jesse—oh my God?—”
“Look at me, baby. God, I can feel you getting wetter. You’re soaking my cock. Now, you’re going to give me one more.”
Her eyes snap open, wide and wrecked and pleading. I hold her there, my thumb circling her clit, my cock driving up into her in deep, deliberate thrusts that make her whimper.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful like this,” I breathe, forehead pressed to hers. “Let go for me.”
Her fingers curl against my shoulders as her breath stutters—one, two, three short gasps—and then she breaks apart. She comes hard, shaking in my arms, her body squeezing me tight enough to drag a curse out of my throat.
“Yes, that’s it. That’s my good perfect girl.”
I flip her gently onto her back without letting our bodies separate, sliding deep into her with a low, desperate groan. Her legs wrap around my waist immediately, pulling me deeper, bringing me home.
That does it.
I drive into her one last time and the world blanks out. My release slams through me, sharp and blinding, and I bury myself deep as I come.
Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me down against her chest while I shake through the aftershocks. Then I kiss her throat, her shoulder, anywhere my mouth can reach.
I fucking hate pulling out of her. My body protests the second we’re no longer connected, but she pulls me close, her forehead against mine, breath still unsteady. She melts against my chest, fitting into me with a soft, sleepy sigh. Her hand settles over my ribs—right where my heartbeat lives—and herleg hooks over mine like she’s claiming her spot. Or claiming me.
I slide a palm up her spine, slow strokes meant to soothe, but all it does is make her scoot even closer until her nose is tucked into my throat.
“You’re staying,” I murmur.
It isn’t a question. It never is, not anymore.
Her laugh is warm against my skin. “I was already planning on it.”
“Good.” I squeeze her hip, unable to help myself. “Because you don’t have to ask. You can sleep here every damn night if you want.”
She tilts her head up, eyes heavy, mouth curved in that soft smile that ruins me. “Careful,” she whispers. “I might take you up on that.”
“I’m hoping you do.”
We eventually peel ourselves off each other long enough to find some water and clean up. We end up tangled together on the couch, sharing my blanket and my phone screen while we FaceTime Poppy who is, unsurprisingly, still awake and full of opinions about Landyn’s nail color and whether I am being “nice to Madeline.”
Madeline laughs and my chest pulls tight watching the two of them talk like they’ve been in each other’s lives for years instead of weeks.
Later, back in bed, she slides into my arms like it’s muscle memory, and maybe it is now. There are things I want to ask her. Things I want to tell her. Things I’m afraid to. Things that, if answered wrong, might knock the air out of my lungs. But I’m not ready for that conversation—not tonight, not when she’s warm and trusting and tucked into me.
“Come here,” I murmur against her hair, tightening my arm around her.
She rolls into me instantly, rubbing her cheek along myshoulder in that sleepy little way that makes me crazy. “Bossy,” she whispers.
“Only with you.”
Her fingers trace the edge of my jaw, slow and tender. “Jesse?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I like being here.” A small pause. “With you.”
Something in me settles as I press a kiss to her forehead. “Good. Because I can’t get enough of you.”
She smiles, eyes fluttering shut, and I hold her tighter as the room fades around us.
THIRTY-TWO
