The pressure builds again, coiling tighter and tighter until I’m right on the edge.
“Miles, I’m?—”
His hand slides between us, finding where we’re joined. “Come.”
I shatter. It rolls through me in waves, dragging him with me. He buries his face in my neck, and he pulses inside of me, his whole body shuddering.
His weight pins me to the couch, and I don’t want him to move. But eventually, he eases back. He brushes hair from my face before he pulls out carefully, then deals with the condom.
When he rejoins me on the couch, he gathers me into his chest.
Some amount of time later—how long? I have no idea—he asks, “Bed?”
When I nod, he stands, pulling me with him. But instead of letting go, he holds me.
“What?” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just… glad to be home.”
Something in his voice makes me want to cry. Though I’m not sure if they’d be happy or sad tears.
“Me too,” I whisper.
THIRTY-ONE
I blinkmy eyes open to find Summer kneeling beside me on the bed, grinning like it’s Christmas morning.
Her hair and makeup are already done, but she’s still in her sleep set—matching button-up and shorts, striped white and pink.
“It’s the first day of spring,” she singsongs, fully awake.
She straddles my hips. I’m already hard, and the added pressure makes me groan.
“What time is it?” My voice comes out rough.
“Six-thirty.”
“Why are you so awake?”
“Because it’s the first day of spring,” she repeats, slower, like that alone explains her good mood.
Only her—turning another dreary, cold day into something to celebrate. I grab her wrist and tug. She squeals as she tumbles onto me, laughing into my neck.
“You need to get up if we want to have coffee together before I leave,” she mumbles, but doesn’t pull away.
“Five more minutes.” I lock my arms around her waist.
“I have to be at Boone’s by eight.”
“Then we have plenty of time.” I roll us so she’s pinned beneath me. Her hair fans out across the pillow, and she smiles up at me.
Christ, I love her smile.
I kiss her before she can consider moving. She melts into it, but too quickly she’s pushing at my chest. “Tonight,” she promises, then wriggles out from under me and stands. “C’mon.”
She disappears out of the room, and her footsteps pad down the stairs, along with a jingle from Grace’s collar.
I drag myself out of bed and follow her, barefoot and half-asleep. Mornings with Summer set the tone for the rest of my day, and I want every second with her before practice and meetings take over.
