Page 259 of Vicious Temptation

I smile and kiss her forehead. “Apparently.”

Keeping a hand at her waist, I unlock the cuffs one at a time and guide her arms down, rubbing my thumbs over her wrists before letting go.

Then I reach behind her, turn off the vibrator, and pull her against me. She tucks herself into my chest, and for a while, I just hold her, resting my cheek on top of her head. I love this part almost as much as everything that came before it

My dick is still painfully hard between us, reminding me how badly I want her, but I can wait because she needs this more right now.

I stroke her back while her breathing gradually steadies against my neck. Then I bring each wrist to my mouth, pressing a careful kiss to both as I remember how hard I fought against putting those cuffs anywhere near her.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

I lift my head to meet her eyes.

Remi kisses me, lingering until a small laugh passes between us.

“What?”

She pulls back and studies my face. “You’re a mess.” Her fingers sweep over my cheek and along my jaw.

“You complaining?”

“Absolutely not.” She leans in again. “We should definitely do that more often.”

“I’m definitely not arguing.”

Her hand slides between us and wraps around my cock, drawing a rough breath from me.

She glances down before that familiar spark returns to her expression. “So, what are we going to do about this little problem?”

“There’s nothing little about that, and you know it.”

Remi laughs and fists my shaft, wiping the smile straight off my face.

“I thought you needed a minute.”

“I did.” She rises onto her toes and brushes her mouth against mine as I slide my hands beneath her thighs and lift her. Her legs lock around my waist, ankles crossing behind my back as she hooks her arms around my neck.

“I’m feeling much better now,” she says, dragging her tongue slowly along my still-wet cheek. “Now take me somewhere you can fuck me properly.”

Sixty-Three

remi

I’ve lost track of time.

Day has faded into night, leaving the bedroom lit by the lamps on either nightstand. I’m still draped across Thiago’s bare chest, my ear over his heart, listening to one of my favorite sounds as the ceiling fan stirs the blanket resting low across my hips.

I trace the ink covering his skin with my fingertips, following patterns I’ve already memorized but never grow tired of touching.

Everything feels easier with him. I can slow down, breathe, and lie here without my mind racing toward the next thing that demands my attention. And I wish we could stay like this as long as we wanted.

The thought makes me pause because wanting more of Thiago isn’t new, but admitting exactly how much I want him is. He stopped feeling temporary a while ago. He isn’t simply someone I love spending time with anymore. He’s become part of my days, my routines, my family, and every version of the future I let myself imagine.

I want lazy mornings tangled in the sheets and kisses in the kitchen while one of us forgets dinner on the stove. I want his clothes mixed with mine in the closet and his records taking up more space than I’ll ever admit they deserve. I want to learn every version of him, including the ones he has a harder time showing me.

Most of all, I want to know that he’ll still be there when I wake up tomorrow.

I don’t want to lose him.