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“Asking for what you wanted.” He leans down to draw my nipple into his mouth. This time he’s gentle. “Better that way, isn’t it?”
I scoff. “Well, yeah.”
“And it was just as good for me. If not better, because I knew what to give you.”
The washcloth gets cold, and Abel tosses it onto the nightstand. My pulse thumps. I have a terrible feeling he’s about to leave.
But then he shocks the shit out of me by looping an arm around my middle and pulling me against him as he rolls onto his side. My back to his front. The feel of so much skin on skin—the way he presses a kiss onto the ball of my shoulder—makes me shiver.
Abel yanks the duvet over us. Pulls me closer, curling his body around mine. “Better?”
“Much.” I blink, swallowing the sudden tightness in my throat. “This is nice.”
“Agreed,” he murmurs.
We’re quiet. I hear the dogs playing downstairs. I should put them in their crate, but I’m too cozy. Too lost reveling in the way it feels to be held after sex.
After a while, he kisses my nape. I know what this is—the goodbye kiss. I am not here for it.
I want him to stay because that way, he’s within arm’s reach all night for more sex. Not because I like cuddling with him.
Definitely not.
Heart thumping, I take a deep breath. “I want you to sleep here. With me. Like, actually sleep.”
He goes still behind me. Lips remaining on my nape.
“Don’t go back to that stupid pull-out. This is fine. You’re fine.”
“Jen—”
“You just said you liked it when I told you what I want. Now give it to me. I need some positive reinforcement.”
Abel chuckles. “I’ve created a monster.”
“Stay.”
He does.
twenty-two
. . .
Abel
Right Hook
Pound.
At first I think it’s a dream. My head, maybe, thanks to a hangover.
But I didn’t drink that much last night. And my dick is hard.
That, I’m not dreaming. Opening my eyes, I see that it’s still dark outside. It must be the middle of the fucking night.
Pound.Pause.Pound pound pound.
It’s coming from downstairs. Someone is at the door.
