Up close, he looked unreal—half-lidded blue eyes, flushed cheeks, lips still red. Beautiful in a way that hurt a little to look at. His tongue swept over his lower lip as he studied me, that familiar intensity still there. When he looked at me like that, it felt like the world tipped, like everything else slid out of focus.
One hand came up to cup my face, holding me there, close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin. “You’re mine, Sebastian.”
Warmth spread through my chest, my lips curving into a slow smile.
He pulled me closer, pressing our foreheads together, his grip firm—almost desperate. “I’m not doing this halfway,” he said. “Not again.”
I kissed him without hesitation, relief rushing through me at his words. He really hadn’t let go. He wasn’t walking away. “I’m yours.”
His arms locked around me at that, like he’d been waiting to hear it just to breathe again, and our bodies fit together as if they’d never been apart.
My lips brushed his temple as I closed my eyes.
“I’m yours.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ASH
The slope of his neck—that curve into his shoulder I’d memorized years ago—was so tempting I couldn’t stop myself. I pressed my lips to his warm skin, inhaling him, eyes fluttering shut as something inside me clicked into place. Finally, I could do this again.
Ethan grumbled in his sleep, and I pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his chest and fitting myself against his back.
“I can’t have sex again,” he muttered suddenly, voice hoarse. “Let me sleep, Sebastian.”
I chuckled against him, kissing his neck again.
“I’m serious.”
“You can sleep all you want, pet,” I said. “I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving in a little bit.”
Ethan tensed and rolled to face me, giving me the cutest, sleep-rumpled expression I’d ever seen.
“What?” His gaze dragged over me—my hair, my face, my chest—and confusion crept in. “Why do you look so clean?”
I kissed his forehead. “Took a shower. Henny’s picking me up in ten.”
He scooted closer and nuzzled into my shirt. “What time is it?”
“Seven ten.”
He let out a low, tired sound. “We didn’t sleep at all last night. Why are you up so early?”
I closed my eyes and buried my face in his hair. “Combination of jet lag, anxiety, and jitters, I’m guessing.”
Ethan went quiet for a beat, just breathing close while I dragged my fingers through his curls.
“Anxiety about…?” he asked, more awake now.
“My father. Work.”
“Oh…” he exhaled. A small sound, but weighted.
I smiled to myself. “The jitters are about us. About everything that happened last night.”
He tipped his head up enough to look at me. “Like… in a happy way?”
“A very happy way.” I leaned in and kissed him—softly at first, a few lingering presses that, the moment I remembered I could, started to turn heated again.
