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“You’re it for me, babe,” I murmur. “It’s always been you for me. It always will be.”
Her features turn stony for a flash and I expect instant regret from her like last time. Maybe even her bringing up my mom and the whole moral issue of our relationship once more.
I get none of that.
“I’m lucky to have you,” she says, smiling at me. “I don’t know how it happened, but I’m glad it did.”
Running my nose along hers, I whisper, “I love you, Sloane. I know you’re not there yet like I am, but I can’t go another minute without telling you. I love you so goddamn much it makes my chest fucking hurt.”
She runs her fingers through my hair, studying me like I’m something wonderful to her. I don’t ever need to hear those words in return as long as she continues to look at me like I’m fucking special.
“I have never had a connection with a man like this,” she admits, cheeks blooming crimson. “I, uh…”
I kiss her nose. “What, babe? Never had sex this good?”
A laugh barks out of her. “Actually, I…” She squeezes her eyes shut. “God, this is really embarrassing.”
“It’s just me. Spill.”
With a heavy sigh, she pops open her eyes and meets my stare. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Which part? No one’s ever gone down on you?”
Those selfish assholes should feel ashamed for neglecting this beauty.
“No,” she huffs. “None of it. I was, uh, a virgin too.”
I gape at her, her words shocking me. She’s Mom’s age and she’s never had sex before? “Really?”
“I never got close enough to anyone to want to be intimate.”
I grin at her. “So you’re saying I’m special?”
“Yeah, Demps, you really are.”
Sloane
Bacon?
Why do I smell bacon?
I slowly wake, realizing it’s morning and I’m alone in bed. The ache between my legs is a reminder of how I spent most of my night.
With Dempsey.
We came together off and on throughout the night, each time more intense than the time before. I’ve never orgasmed so many times in such a short period in all my life. Probably because it’s always been up to me and I can’t be bothered to make it happen more than once.
Dempsey has made it his mission to get me off as often as he can.
I stretch my arm across the bed to the empty spot where he slept. The sheets are cold, which means he’s been out of bed for quite a while. From the smell of it, he’s been cooking. For some reason, this makes me grin like an idiot.
Is this why people are in such a hurry to find a significant other?
I guess if I’d known this feeling was a possibility for me, I’d have been searching a long time ago.
Like before Dempsey was born?
My stomach twists at that intrusive thought. When I can separate Dempsey the man from Dempsey my best friend’s son, everything is great. I see him as an equal, a fantastic sexual partner, and a confidant. But when I am reminded of exactly who he is, it makes me feel like some sicko who’s been preying on her friend’s son.
