“Protection?”
He blinks. “Shit.” His brow furrows.
“I’m on the pill.”
“I’m good to go,” he tells me. “If you’re asking.”
“I’m not asking.”
“Good. I’m not asking you, either. Now, may I please continue?”
I bury my face in his shoulder in embarrassment. “Yes.”
He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine and lifting it over my head, gently pinning me. This isn’t about domination. This is Pane’s way of pouring out his heart without words, of telling me how much he cares about me through this action, of making love to me in a way that I’ve never experienced before.
My heart is open. It’s so open that it aches. I ache for him, and only him.
Pane murmurs my name as he slowly thrusts, and we find our rhythm together as we lose ourselves in one another. And when he comes, I shatter with him, relishing in how he fills me to my core.
When we’re done, he pulls me over to lie on top of him and he kisses me on the forehead. I close my eyes, and as I start to drift off, I swear I hear him whisper, “You are mine, Sunbeam.”
