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She swallowed past her aching throat, then slid back on top of him, cupping his face with her hands. She gently brushed her lips over his, barely touching him. His blond brows furrowed and his hands gripped her hips with a tenderness he’d never really shown her during sex. He stared up at her with blazing sea green eyes, not dropping his gaze. His hair was all over the place and his lips were inviting. She closed the distance between them, brushing her mouth against his. He strained against her, seeking more.
She sunk onto his length and he let out a sigh. The feel of him inside of her was more wonderful than she could ever have imagined, but even more moving was the way they held gazes. The way neither one of them seemed to want to close their eyes, in case they missed something.
His hands splayed out over her back and he surged up into her, and she finally let her lids drift shut. Her entire body quivered. Before, the sex had been all about taking. But this time…this time is was all about giving. And he gave to her, just as much as she gave to him. The pressure building inside of her grew, higher and higher, and she clung to him, rocking her hips harder. Faster.
He continued thrusting into her, sending her spiraling over the edge, making her feel as if she floated in the air. He rolled her underneath him and pressed his fingers against her clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure, and she miraculously tightened around him. She exploded again.
He groaned, “Morgan.”
Then his whole body tightened, and he collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily.
She played with his blond curls, waiting for him to come down from his high with bated breath. Something more than sex had happened between them, and she knew it.
The question was…did he know it, too?
When he lifted himself onto his elbow, he watched her, his expression grave. “That wasn’t meaningless, Morgan.”
She swallowed hard. This was the moment where she could ignore all her fears and take a blind leap of faith, or she could lie and keep her heart safe. Keep her life organized and perfect. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. Nothing but a squeak.
His eyes glazed over and he pushed off of her. She sat up and held her hand out. “Wait!”
He froze. “What?”
“I-It wasn’t meaningless. There’s something between us. Being here with you doesn’t feel wrong. It feels so right.” Her heart pounded in her ears and she felt shaky and weak. Weak because she admitted this to him. Gave him that knowledge. What would he do with it? Would he use it against her?
He rose from the floor, taking her with him, and crossed to the bed. He pressed her down into the mattress and met her eyes. “You’re mine.”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “But I’m still a dancer. Still me.”
“And I’m still me.”
He melded his mouth to hers sweetly, his hand creeping up to cradle her cheek. Her heart leapt at the touch, not from desire but from something she didn’t recognize…didn’t want to name.
And she knew from then on, nothing would ever be the same.
Chapter Twelve
Mike gripped the clipboard tightly, holding it to his chest. His wedding ring dug in to the plastic, making his ring finger feel heavy and foreign. Garrett, who stood next to him, eyed the ring for the millionth time, his mouth pressed tight. He hadn’t questioned him yet but Mike knew it was coming. After all his complaints about marriage and his vows to never succumb to the deathly trap—the questions would come.
And they would come hard.
The buzzer sounded and the crowd cheered. Another undefeated season came to an end and he and Garrett had every reason to celebrate. Every reason to be proud. But neither one of them even cracked a smile at each other. As they congratulated their team and promised them and their parents a celebratory pizza party, the gym crowd thinned out.
Pictures for the newspaper to celebrate another undefeated season would be taken tomorrow and the wedding would soon follow. Then…Morgan would either stay or go.
He didn’t know which one it would be. Ever since their admission of whatever they’d admitted to each other last night, they’d been strangely quiet. Neither one of them had brought up the future or what would happen after the wedding on Saturday. They’d just held each other all night long after making love. Because he knew exactly what they’d done last night, and it hadn’t been fucking. It had been intimate and moving and life changing. Just like the snuggling they’d done afterward.
Yeah. He was a fucking spooner now.
What had happened to him, and why didn’t he mind it so much?
As soon as they were alone, Garrett slammed down his clipboard and turned on Mike. “Would you like to tell me why you’re wearing a wedding band? I thought Kiersten was joking when she told me that you, of all people, were married.”
Mike glanced at the band. “Nope. It’s real.”
As real as a marriage would ever be to him.
“You actually married a stripper?”
