She lifts her head, slowly shaking it at me. She stops, her eyebrows lifting and her face lighting up. “Oh, what about ‘Lover boy’?”
“You know what, Sunny?”
She tilts her head to the side. “What?”
“I don’t care what you call me, as long as you call me yours.”
The shades of blue shimmer in her eyes. “You’re mine,” she says with such simplicity, as if it’s how it’s always been.
And I can’t help but wonder if it is. Since the day I saw her at the coffee shop and ended up with her bitter drink and her with mine. Since that day, she has crawled under her skin and caught my attention.
Since that day, I haven’t been able to look away.
“You’re mine, Sunny,” I murmur, leaning forward to press my lips against her forehead.
A soft sigh escapes her and I pull her against me, her body flush with mine as I hold her with my good arm. She nestles back against me and I turn my head to bury my face in her hair.
This is exactly where I want her. Today, tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be against every day after.
“What do you want for breakfast?”
She smiles against my chest, her hand trailing down the length of my torso. “Hm…I have a few things in mind.”
My cock is immediately hard as she toys with the waistband of my boxer briefs. Last night, I didn’t want anything sexual. I wanted her to know this is real. What we have goes beyond the line of just being physical.
I want every part of her—body, mind, and soul.
“Let me feed you first, Sunny,” I murmur into her hair, my hand sliding down to the bottom hem of my T-shirt she’s wearing that’s riding up her side. “We need to make sure you stay hydrated and fed and that you’re getting enough salt and electrolytes, all that jazz.”
She turns her head to look at me, arching a brow. “Are you a doctor now, Matteo?”
“We could play doctor,” I smirk.
“That’s what I’m trying to get at, you idiot.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “Wait, your hand.” She purses her lips, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think about it and I don’t want to?—”
“Sunny.” I cut her off, pulling her onto my body with my good arm. I hold my left off to the side as her legs part and she straddles me.
Her hair falls forward, framing her face. “Yeah?” she rasps as she settles on my lap.
“Stop worrying about me,” I smile, lifting my good hand to the side of her face. “I’m good. Better now,” I chuckle, lifting my hips to grind my cock against her.
She chuckles. “You’re crazy.”
“I already told you,” I say, dragging her face down to mine. “Only ever about you.”
“I could get used to that,” she smiles, the light from the climbing sun out the window catching on her blue eyes. I trace the constellations of freckles across her nose before losing myself in her gaze.
“Good, because that’s never changing,” I promise, my voice thick with emotion as my lips find her, just like they always do.
For the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel uncertain.
It feels as though it’s already started, and it’s started with her.
EPILOGUE
MATTEO
“Art was my first love, but Clara Foss—she was my last.” - Julian Hart, Painted Inferno
