We moved together like we’d been made for this. And maybe we had. He moved in slow and steady strokes, ensuring he gave me every part of himself. I never had someone make sex feel this way; raw, emotional, tender, and all-consuming. I soak in this moment, engraining it into my mind. I never want this to end. I never knew I could love someone this much. My whole world revolves around him, like we were made for each other. I raise my hips slightly, take him fully. He grunts and looks me in the eyes. His gorgeous hazel eyes that I could stare at forever. “I love you, Bee, always and forever.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and he brushes it away. “More Grey,” I say, digging my nails into his back.
He picks up the pace and I feel myself close. “Come for me,Bee, let it all go,” he says, and I come undone. I wrap my legs around him and scream his name. I rode out the high as long as I could. I felt him stiffen, and he picked up his pace again, slamming into me. He whispers my name when he comes, holding me like I might disappear. I kiss his chest, his throat, his lips, until he is gasping and grinning and pulling me back under with him.
We make love again. Slower. Sleepier. Softer.
And when I wake hours later, tangled in his arms, I don’t feel scared. I feel at home.
Chapter 29
Greyson
She was still asleep when I woke up, one arm draped across my chest, her leg tangled over mine like she’d decided I was her pillow.
Not that I was complaining.
The early morning light streamed through the blinds, illuminating the bed in a soft glow. I didn’t move. I didn’t dare. I feared waking her because I didn’t want to miss a second of this. Of her.
Her lips were slightly parted, hair a mess, a few freckles I hadn’t noticed last night dotted her shoulder. She was breathtaking in a way that wasn’t loud or curated. Just real.
Mine.
That thought hit harder than I expected.
I shifted slightly, brushing her hair away from her cheek. She stirred, eyebrows scrunching like they always did when she was half between dreaming and waking.
Then she blinked up at me.
“Hey,” she said, voice raspy.
“Hey, yourself.”
She stretched her whole body, like a cat, and immediately flopped back onto my chest with a satisfied sigh.
“Well,” she mumbled. “That happened.”
I smirked. “Which part?”
She peeked up at me through sleep-heavy lashes. “All of it.”
“You okay?”
She nodded. “More than okay.”
I ran my fingers down her spine, lazy and slow. “Good. Because I plan on making you pancakes.”
She lifted her head. “Wait, you cook?”
“Questionably.”
She laughed and it was the best sound I’d ever heard in my house.
“Greyson Shaw, full of surprises.”
“You’ve seen nothing yet,” I teased. “I have a griddle. And maple syrup. And a ridiculous level of pride in my breakfast game.”
“Oh no. Confidenceandcarbs?”
I rolled on top of her, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And cuddles, if you play your cards right.”
