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Her nails rake my back as she clings on so tight, begging for more, drilling the molten come I’ve pumped into her deeper, deeper, yet still not deep enough.
Never fucking enough because we never want this to end.
Only her kiss brings me back to Earth.
Confusion shines in her eyes.
Yeah, we both know I fucked up royal with—whatever the actual hell my mouth dumped in the heat of the moment.
I fucking love you.
Goddamn.
I’ll blame it on the moment, the passion, the fire screaming through my balls.
I have to.
Thankfully, she doesn’t press me.
We don’t talk about it.
I pull out of her and push my hand between her legs, holding my release in her, needing to know she’s full of me.
Until tonight, I’ve never wanted to mark a woman from the inside out.
Never wanted to keep doing it incessantly, either.
With Delia—sweet, impossible, sanity-killing Delia—it doesn’t feel like I can ever fill her enough, even when she’s leaking me everywhere.
And I’m worried about her?
I should look in the damn mirror.
How the hell do I survive next week?
What even is the rest of my life?
I have no answers.
I’ve never felt this spell before and it’s scattering my brain in a hundred directions like marbles bouncing around inside a runaway train.
This night is all I can handle and all we have.
So I take her hand and lead her inside, where I get her on all fours, splayed out on the bed.
I do the only thing I know how to do over and over again.
I leave us so tangled and spent and exhausted we don’t dare mention my touchy-feely moose of a mouth.
We’ll sleep like the dead on the flight home tomorrow.
I want to leave her body too sore to move, but not her heart.
Because I meant what I told her.
After tonight, she needs to move on.
Not marvel at the biggest jackass move of my life where my dick took down my senses.
