Her hand caught my wrist. Firm. Warm. “Ansel.”
I froze.
She was smiling. Barely, but it was there. “Breathe.”
I did. Sort of. But I was still pretty sure my heart was trying to punch through my ribs. “Stay right here,” I muttered, pulling a shirt over my head quickly. “There’s a drugstore right up the road.”
“Honey,” her fingers wrapped around my wrist. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s not too soon for Plan B, right? I’m so fucking irresponsible.”
She giggled, cheeks flushing as she pulled me back down next to her. “Haven’t you been snipped?” Her hands were in my hair again; she was pressing feather light kisses against my jaw.
“Shit,” I sighed, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. “Yes. Yes, I have.” My heart was still in my throat, pulse through the roof like I was being held at gunpoint. How could I haveforgotten?
Because she was in every one of my senses.
Because the mereideaof forcing her into something she didn’t want — something she had no say in — curdled every fiber of my being
“So calm down, and just hold me, please, cowboy. I just want you here with me.” She tugged me a little closer, nestling her nose behind my ear.
“No,” I sat up again, “I mean — yes, but you’re a mess. The bed’s a mess.” With still-trembling hands, I wrapped the covers around her, scooping her up into my arms. “Don’t make a sound.” I muttered into her ratty curls.
“Pretty bold to be going full Pooh-Bear across the hall of your mom’s house.” She whispered, lips brushing against my throat.
I looked down.
“Fuck,” I didn’t have pants on. Nothing but my half-hard dick and the glistening sheen of our combined ecstasies. “Just don’t give her a reason to wake up, sweetheart.”
I set her on top of the counter, but before I could pull away, her ankles hooked around the back of my legs, pulling me close.
With her fingers laced through my sweat-damp hair, she grinned. “You’re forty years old.”
“I am.” Her lips were swollen, eyes sparking with the kind of look that could send a weaker man to his knees.
I was moments away from being a weaker man.
“I’m thirty-three.” She pulled me closer, so that she could press her lips to mine in a featherlight kiss.
“You are,” I whimpered, chasing after her when she pulled away.
“So why does it feel like I snuck into your house after prom?”She laughed, and if I hadn’t been a goner already — I would have beenlost.
“That’s what happens when it’s real, baby.” I pulled away from her before she could distract me again, grabbing a washcloth from the linen closet behind us.
Once I’d warmed the water and dampened the cloth — and pressed a kiss to her forehead, I’m not a monster — we untangled the blanket from around her, and discarded it.
A low whistle crept out of my mouth as I took in the sight of her again. Bruises littered her chest where I hadrefusedto lose control.
Okay, maybe I had lost control alittle.
But what was more important was the way she justbeamedat me through her sleepy eyes and her lopsided grin.
“Alright, sweetheart.” I stood between her legs once more, pushing them further apart with my hips. “Let me clean you up,usup, and then we’ll get back to the part where I get to hold you all night long.”
I made quick — but gentle — work of wiping the mess I’d made from her. Her breath turned to quick little pants as I drug the cloth across her core, fingers gripping against my shoulders.
“Don’t do that,” I murmured, refusing to look anywhere but my own hands. “Gotta stop making those sounds, Junebug.”
