I stay right where I am, still buried inside her, my breath rough, my body not even close to settled yet, every nerve still firing.
Her legs remain locked around me, her fingers dragging along my back like she’s not quite done either, and that damn near sets me off again.
I ghost a kiss across her lips, jerking when she squeezes around me, milking my cock. “Jesus, you are the best feeling in the whole damn world. You good?”
She responds with a low purr, her movements wringing every ounce of pleasure from me. “I am perfect.”
My mouth seizes hers again, our tongues tangling in a leisurely battle. “Yes, you are.”
With a reluctant sigh, I pull away, chucking the condom and grabbing a wet cloth from the bathroom. When I return, she’s exactly how I left her—hair a mess, eyes heavy, completely relaxed into my bed like she belongs there.
That’s when I realize she does belong here. In my bed. In my arms.
With me.
I clean her up as she watches with a half-lidded, amused look. “Talk about full service.”
“Sweetheart, the service doesn’t stop until you’re completely satisfied.”
“How many times per day am I allowed servicing?” she asks, giggling as I curl up next to her, pulling the covers over us.
“As many as you want.” I drop a kiss to her hair as she settles against my chest. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”
She peers up at me, her eyes sleepy but content. “Best birthday on record.”
My hand drifts along her back as she sinks into sleep, and I realize I could get used to this. A life with her. Loving her.
Because she feels right in a way no other woman has, and I know I can’t let her go.
Chapter 9
Blueberry Pecan Pancakes
Kiki
The sun hits me square in the face, and I groan, turning onto my stomach as I blink my eyes open against the light.
That’s strange. I never leave the curtains open in the cabin.
Except… this isn’t my cabin.
The thought creeps in slowly, as if my brain is trying to be kind about it, easing me into the realization instead of dropping it on my head like a brick.
I push up onto my elbows and glance around, the sheet pooling at my waist.
Definitelynotmy bed.
Which means last night was not just another hot as fuck dream about Eddie Landry, spurred on by too many drinks and not enough orgasms.
It was the real thing.
I glance to the other side of the bed, but it’s empty. Seems Eddie is already awake.
Great. Fantastic. Love that for me.
Which means he’s seen me already this morning.
I groan, running a hand over my no doubt destroyed face. I donotwant to know what I look like right now.
