“You could look at it this way. It’s a small lie, to protect them.” He shifts closer, and I turn on my side to face him. “You need caring for too, Maria. You deserve to make yourself a priority every now and then.”
“Yeah…I guess they were happy to see me go on a date. They do want me happy.”
“Right now I’d like to make you happy.”
He slides over me, his mouth on mine. “I know it’s been a stressful night,” he whispers. “I wasn’t going to make this about sex, but I do want to make this about you, so I’d like for you to close your eyes, while I slip between your legs and give you an orgasm to help you sleep.”
Is he serious?
“What about you?”
“Tonight, this is all about you.” He runs his lips lightly over mine, barely a caress, and his warm breath falls over my face, making it harder and harder to keep my eyes open. “Trust me,” he continues a teasing edge to his voice. “I’m getting something out of it too.” He touches my face, and puts his palm over my eyes, closing them.
“Tomorrow,” I assure him. “I’ll make it up to you.” I let out a sigh as he slides lower, and that first sweet touch of his tongue on my sex takes me out of my body. I touch his hair, wanting the connection as he twirls his tongue around my clit, one finger slipping inside me.
It feels wrong to lay back and be pleasured, knowing I’m not going to return it, but with Tuck, it actually feels right. I like him taking care of me. I like taking care of him.
As I consider that, some part of my brain reminds me to set my alarm. Tuck likes taking care of me, but he doesn’t have to get up early tomorrow, but I do, and if I forget, the morning will be chaos. But I can’t think about that. Not when pleasure is sparking through every inch of me, lighting me up from the inside out, all of it focused on the devastatingly, perfect way Tuck’s mouth moves between my legs.
He curls his finger inside me, finding the place that makes my breath hitch, while his tongue turns deliberate, sharper, more focused. I thread my fingers through his hair, holding on.
“Tuck…that feels so good.”
He groans against me, the sound vibrating through my body, and I lift my hips, offering more—more than just my body, even if that’s all he’s asking for.
Not everything is about sex…
The thought drifts through my hazy mind. I almost laugh. I must be exhausted, because that can’t be right. Everything between us is this, heat, want, the kind of connection that burns fast and bright.
“Tuck,” I gasp, clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound as the pressure builds. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t ease up—just keeps moving, steady and sure, like he knows exactly how to take me where I need to go.
And then I fall.
The orgasm crashes through me, powerful and consuming, stealing every coherent thought from my head until there’s nothing left but sensations. I sink into the pillow, riding it out, my body trembling in the aftermath.
He stays with me, gentle now, his touch soft, as he traces slow, soothing strokes. The room settles around us—quiet, warm, safe—and when he finally moves away, I barely register it.
A moment later, there’s the soft press of a warm cloth between my legs, the careful way he tucks the blankets around me, his body sliding in behind mine.
And I let myself drift.
Sleep pulls me under before I can think too hard about any of it. A loud laugh yanks me back to the surface. I blink slowly, disoriented, my brain catching up in pieces. Tuck’s room. Morning light spilling through the window, warmth at my back that’s no longer there.
Oh no.
My stomach drops.
I didn’t set my alarm.
I grab my phone, heart racing, only to see the time, and Gina’s message telling me to take it easy this morning because she’s opening for me. Relief rushes in so fast it makes me dizzy. Until the next thought hits.
I’m still in Tuck’s bed.
The boys.
Panic snaps through me. I throw off the blankets and scramble out of bed, my feet hitting the floor as I rush to the bathroom. By the time I’ve made myself somewhat presentable, my pulse is still racing. I glance at the clothes scattered on the floor and wince. No way am I putting those back on.
That’s when I see them. A neatly folded pile of clothes on Tuck’s dresser. My breath catches. I step closer, running my fingers over the soft fabric—pants, a sweater, and panties. Clean. Fresh. Thoughtful in a way that makes something in my chest tighten unexpectedly.
