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It is his final warning before he sinks into me and shows me what it means to beravaged.
* * *
It ismorning when we collapse into bed for the last time, not to dive into each other, but to settle into a tangle of legs and sheets and fall asleep.
A faint chirping sound pierces my dreams.
I try to ignore it, but my thoughts are already churning.
Someone is beside me.
I feel his warmth. The heaviness of his breath on my forehead. The scrape of his stubble on my flesh.
Sazuki.
Images of last night zip through my subconscious mind. My fingers digging into the sheets. Sazuki grunting in Japanese, words I didn’t understand delivered in a tone that I had no choice but to obey. Pain and pleasure colliding in a fit of sweet insanity.
No matter what I imagined being with Sazuki would be like—and there were many nights when I dreamed of it—what happened last night blew my fantasies out of the water.
Is he made of some kind of magic?
I saw so many stars it’s a miracle I’m not a blind mess.
The chirping sound peals again, shaking me from that place in-between sleep and consciousness.
I glance up and observe Sazuki lying next to me. Pale skin stretched over lean, toned muscles. Broad shoulders bruised from my lips. Long legs covered only in a pair of boxers. His hair is hanging over his eyes, making him look boyish. But I dare not assume that innocence is real. He is all man. A surreal bundle of pleasure wrapped in the face of an Asian prince.
My phone chirps again. I reach for it.
Sazuki curls me into his body to keep me from rolling away. He captures my hand and pins it against his chest.
I wiggle against him, but that only brings me closer. And now my hair is all in my face. Thanks to his grabby hands, my curls are a rocking, steaming mess. Sweat slicks the sheets and makes cuddling hot and uncomfortable.
Even in his sleep, he won’t let me go.
“Sazuki,” I whisper.
“Mm.” He tucks his chin against my head, fitting me into him like a puzzle piece.
“My phone.”
“Not yet,” he rumbles.
I smile at his hoarse voice. He was very… vocal last night and it’s no surprise that he hasn’t yet recovered.
My body turns languid again.
“Sazuki.”
His eyes remain closed.
“I need to use the bathroom.”
He releases me a smidge. I wiggle from under his arms, grab the button-down shirt that somehow landed on the dresser and put it on.
The shirt smells like him. I take a deep whiff, loving the fragrance. It feels like I’m getting a big hug from him.
After using the bathroom, I tiptoe back into the bedroom and watch the sun dance over Sazuki’s back.
