“The ‘I respect your decisions even when they’re dumb’ thing.”
His lips twitch and he chuckles softly. “When have I ever said your decisions were dumb?”
“You implied it.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
He shifts closer, just enough that I feel the heat of him again, his voice dropping a fraction.
“If you want to go,” he says quietly, placing a tender kiss to my forehead, “it’s okay, because I do respect you and your boundaries. I feel like I won the lottery last night and if you need time to yourself to process it all, I can respect that.”
My chest tightens because I know he means it. There’s no guilt, no expectation, and no strings. Just…him. And suddenly I don’t want to leave. Not yet anyway. Not when it feels like this.
“But,” he adds casually, clearly noticing my lack of will, “you could allow me to kiss you good morning and then you could stay for coffee.”
I hesitate before saying yes too fast. “Is that your way of trapping me here?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he deadpans. “I lure women in with caffeine.”
“Bold strategy.”
“Works every time.”
I snort and just like that the heaviness eases, the tension softens and the moment becomes ours again. “Fine,” I say, pretending like I was really thinking about leaving in the first place. “Coffee sounds nice.”
His smile is quiet but victorious. “Good call.” He leans in and I hold my breath, watching the way his eyes darken as they focus on my lips. When his mouth finally meets mine, it’s gentle at first, a warm press of his mouth against mine that has myheart racing. I melt into him instantly, my body remembering everything from last night.
His touch.
His taste.
The way he made me feel so completely safe and wanted.
His hand slides up to cradle my face, thumb stroking my cheek with a tenderness that makes my chest flutter. “I like coffee too,” he whispers against my lips.
I smile into the kiss. “Yeah.” When he whispers like that so close to me it doesn’t matter what the man says. He could tell me he just pooped and I would think it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever said.
He smooths his hand down over my side, his fingers skimming beneath my shirt and suddenly coffee is the last thing on my mind. Heat blooms low in my belly as his palm finds my breast, thumb grazing my nipple with deliberate slowness.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice rough with desire.
“Yes,” I breathe, arching into his touch. “Definitely okay.”
His eyes darken as he watches my reaction, and there’s something intoxicating about the way he’s looking at me, like I’m precious and desirable all at once. He kisses me again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes me gasp. His body is warm and solid, all lean muscle and strength as my fingers explore his chest. The memory of last night floods back—how he touched me, how he made me feel, how he held me when I cried—and now I’m desperate for him again.
“Shepherd,” I whisper against his mouth, my voice needier than I intended.
He groans in response, his hand sliding down to my hip, squeezing gently before dipping lower to cup my ass. “God, Sutton,” he murmurs, his voice rough with want. “I can’t get enough of you.”
I press closer, my leg hooking over his hip, bringing ourbodies flush together. The hard length of him presses against my core, and I gasp at the contact, heat flooding through me. His eyes hold mine, checking, always checking that I’m okay, that this is what I want.
“Please,” I breathe, not even sure what I’m asking for, just knowing I need more of him.
He rolls me onto my back, his weight settling partially over me as he kisses down my neck and along my collarbone. I shiver beneath him but arch into his touch. His fingers tease the hem of my shirt, slowly pushing it upward.
“I believe I promised you coffee,” he murmurs against my skin.
