My own words coming back to haunt me…
But not the kind of haunting the horrific memories used to do to this man.
This is the good kind.
The kind I will gladly live with for the rest of my days.
Connor snakes his tongue out across my clit in the most deliciously slow way and that reminds me that the night I said that to him changed everything. It was the night I realized Connor McBride had become so much more than my enemy—he had become my everything.
And this man absolutely loves to do this anywhere, any time of day, whenever the goddamn mood strikes him, and apparently it struck him this morning before the sun even came up.
He groans his approval, his chest rumbling against me, and he curls his finger deep inside me into that perfect spot he always finds so easily, and begins his sensual assault with his tongue.
I tighten my grip on his hair, loving the feel of the thick strands running beneath my fingertips as he does this to me, as he wakes me in the most Connor McBride way possible.
Because he’s always so attentive.
Always taking care of me.
Always giving me everything I need, sometimes before I even know I need it.
He swirls his tongue in a way that has a gasp falling from my mouth, followed by a slow groan as I arch into him and feel his grin against my wet flesh. His tongue skates over my skin, exploring it as if it’s brand new territory instead of his favorite place to be.
But this is early…even for him.
“What’s gotten into you this morning, Conor McBride?”
Those dark eyes flick up to meet mine, and a slow grin spreads across his wet lips. He turns his head slightly to rub his beard against my thighs, and I twitch.
He slowly drags his finger in and out of me. “Well, I'm hoping that I'm going to get into you this morning.”
I laugh, and then quickly slap my hand over my mouth as the sound carries through the cabin.
Connor arches a brow. “You know the rules. If you wake her…”
He doesn't finish the sentence because we both know the consequences of getting a little too loud when the baby's sleeping, and it typically means one of us or both of us are left hanging.
That isn’t anything either of us wants…
Dipping his head, Connor kisses my pussy gently. “Can you be quiet for me, Firefly?”
I bite my lip and nod, and he grins before he ducks his head again, and this time, begins to devour me in earnest.
“Oh, fuck…”
Maybe I can’t.
I tip my head back and arch into him, allowing my hips to rock against his face in the same rhythm he uses to lick and suck and kiss and roll his tongue across my most sensitive places.
My body responds just like it always has to him—desperately trying to get closer, craving all the rough, rugged parts of him, even the ones that people are scared of, even the ones he's scared of. Those are the ones I love and need so much, the ones that make him my protector, my partner, the wonderful father of my child, and eventually, my husband.
I glance down at the ring on my finger that glints in the morning sunlight just starting to trickle in through the cabin window, so bright and shiny against the black of his hair.
A light in the darkness…
He called me that once, when he was in his darkest hour.
But he’s become that for me, too.
