He sinks his head into my hair and groans.
“Can’t sleep?” he utters.
I shake my head.
The ache I rode out at the station rears its ugly head, and I have to breathe through the emotions wanting out.
“I can’t stop thinking about them,” I whisper.
“I know.”
I turn in his hold, adjusting my head on the pillow so I’m staring into big blues I’d let swallow me whole if they could. “How do you do it?”
His eyes shutter closed, and his breathing swells before crashing out.
Opening his eyes, he says, “It doesn’t get easier. You learn to cope better. You learn that while this world is full of terrible shit”—his hand lifts, his fingertip brushing my hair from my face—“it’s also home to some of the most incredible things you’ll ever find.”
I catch his hand as it falls and press my lips to his palm.
“Take my mind off it, please,” I beg.
“You sure, beautiful? I don’t want to do something you might come to regret when you’re not choosing from a good place.”
“I chose this long before now,” I say, sending my hand over his jaw and my fingers into his hair, dragging his mouth to my own.
“Fuck,” he moans before crashing his mouth against mine.
I’m weightless as he coaxes my mouth open. He’s moving, caging me in a second later. Hands palming his chest, I’m not close enough.
He breaks from the kiss, dusting hot wet nips over my neck and collarbone before his lips close over one hard nipple.
I writhe under him, a whining sound parting my mouth. His hand cups one breast as he suckles my other nipple before biting down.
Oh god.
I’m a throbbing, aching mess for him.
“Miles, please, I?—”
“Shhh. You know how long I’ve had this gorgeous body in my face? How long it’s been making me second-guess everything? I’m taking my damn time.”
I groan in complaint, and he chuckles at me.
The fucker.
“Nothing feels like enough,” I rasp, wriggling underneath him.
His hard length presses into the center of my heat.
“It doesn’t, but this is going to play out slow and steady and controlled.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a control freak, Captain Hammond?” I smile up at him, and he narrows his eyes playfully.
“Controlled is safe. Controlled meansyou’re safe, beautiful.”
“You should use that line on Schmiddy.” I cackle.
His brows snap up toward his hairline. “We’re seriously talking about Schmiddy right now?”
