Having her here. Tucked beneath my arm, exactly where she belongs.
Fucking mine.
I’m not about to pretend I don’t enjoy the fact that she let me touch her again.
With Piper, it seems I have to fight for every inch she gives me, and when she finally lets go of whatever keeps her away from me, when she finally stops resisting this thing between us, it feels like bloody heaven.
She tries to move, but I keep her where she is, and after a moment she abandons any attempt to get out of this bed.
My cock twitches inside her, and she lifts her head, an incredulous look on her face.
A deep, booming sound leaves my chest.
She shakes her head.
Eventually, I let her push away from me. The moment she does, she winces slightly.
Right.
I wasn’t exactly gentle.
But she takes me so damn well and enjoys every second of it, if the sounds she makes and the way she begs for more are anything to go by.
Fuck. The thought alone nearly makes me come again.
She pulls on one of my shirts, and my jaw tightens. The bloody thing looks perfect on her.
She should keep it.
The possessive bastard in me takes too much satisfaction from the fact that she’s wrapped in my clothes, surrounded by my scent. If I could also have her covered in my cum every day of the week…
With Piper, I find myself wanting things I never wanted before.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
I pull on my boxers and lean back against the headboard. Before she can put any real distance between us, I catch her by the waist and pull her back into bed beside me.
A laugh escapes her, and the sound is absurdly pleasing.
I guide her down until her head rests on my chest, then pull the duvet over us both.
I’ve never done this in my life.
I presume this is what people call cuddling.
Not once have I considered myself capable of it.
Piper, however, appears determined to make a liar of me, because with her I do things I once would have sworn were impossible.
“So the Olympics?” I ask, breaking the silence and taking the opportunity to learn something about her.
Because the truth is, for all the time I’ve spent watching her, wanting her, chasing her, obsessing over her, I know next to nothing.
Fragments at best.
An American family. Part of the Thirteen Circle. Ice skating. Years at the Academy, and boarding school before that, which probably explains the British accent that slips through every now and then.
And... a mother who died too young.
