She collapsed against me, her breath ragged, her body trembling. I held her there, my arms wrapped around her, my cock still buried inside her. I could feel her heartbeat, fast and wild, matching my own.
"Fuck," I muttered against her skin, my voice rough. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, my hands sliding up to cup her tits again, my thumbs brushing over her nipples. She shivered, her body still sensitive, still responding to my touch.
I didn’t let her go. Not yet. I turned her face toward mine, capturing her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. She melted into me, her hands finding my hair, her fingers tangling in it as she kissed me back. I could feel the way her body still trembled against mine.
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes—dark, dazed, satisfied. My thumb brushed over her bottom lip, my voice a low rumble.
"Mine," I said, my voice leaving no room for argument.
She didn’t say anything. The way she looked at me, the way her body still clung to mine—it was answer enough.
Four Months Later
The smellof burnt toast hit me before I even opened my eyes. I groaned, rolling onto my side, expecting to find Billie still curled up beside me. But the sheets were cold. The room was empty.
I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweatpants as I followed the scent of semi-charred eggs and coffee that smelled strong enough to strip paint. Billie was at the stove, spatula in hand, her hair a mess, my T-shirt swallowing her. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard me, a smirk tugging at her lips.
"Morning, Chef Rams—" I started, but she cut me off with a look.
"Don’t."
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching as she scraped the eggs onto a plate with more enthusiasm than skill. The toast was black around the edges, but she set it down beside the eggs like it was a goddamn gourmet meal.
She slid the plate toward me. "Eat."
I took a bite. Chewed. Swallowed. "Tastes like regret and bad decisions."
She flipped me off, but she was smiling.
I was about to pull her into me when she froze, her eyes locking onto something over my shoulder. I turned, following her gaze.
The bathroom door was cracked open.
And there, on the sink, was a toothbrush.
Not just any toothbrush. A pink one. New. Still in the packaging.
Billie walked past me, slow, like she was half-convinced it was a mirage. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Then she opened the drawer beneath the sink.
Her shampoo. Her face wash. A fucking hair tie.
And an empty drawer.
She turned to me, eyebrows raised. "Did I miss a moving truck?"
I didn’t look at her. Just cracked another egg into the pan, the yolk splattering. "Just move in already."
Silence.
I risked a glance.
She was staring at the toothbrush like it was the first real thing anyone had ever given her. Then she looked at me—really looked at me—and something in my chest cracked wide open.
Her smile was slow. Soft. "You’re an asshole, Calder Shaw."
I flipped the egg, hiding the way my hands were shaking. "Yeah. But I’myourasshole."
She didn’t argue.
