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Even as her whimpers turn to pants, desperate and close, there’s nothing rushed about it. It’s slow and sweet until her legs start to shake and her nails dig into my neck.
“There it is, sweet girl. Give it to me. It’s okay, you can let go,a chuisle.I’m not going anywhere. I’ll pick up all your pieces.”
“Cash—ahh…”she whines until her orgasm ripples through her with a silent scream, her mouth hanging open in pained bliss.
“Good girl, coming undone so perfectly for me.”
She melts into me, respiring deeply until, at some point, she feels safe enough to drift off to sleep wrapped tightly in my arms.
1.AirplaneMode—BONES | SummerOtoole.com/Playlists
2.Look After You—The Fray
Chapter nineteen
Pulse of My Heart
Cash
Iwakefeelinglooseand relaxed. My body is hugged by Harlow, her leg thrown over my hip and her cheek hot against my bare chest. There’s a light stickiness between our bodies, a sheen of sweat clinging to us. I don’t mind it though. It reminds me of the way the humid steam from the bath beaded on her skin, delicate drops of water that would cascade down the slopes of her body when they grew too heavy.
I don’t realize she’s awake too until she begins tracing a light finger up and down my sternum. She seems so content, I’m scared to move, not wanting to shatter this moment. Her naked arm lays in contrast with my torso covered in black ink shaded with gray. I can’t help but reach out and drag my fingertips along her forearm draped over my chest. Goosebumps rise on her skin under my touch, and the knowledge of my effect on her sends warmth spilling down my spine.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” I murmur into her hair.
“Mhmm.” She nuzzles closer. I tighten my arm wrapped around her and squeeze her ass as I pull closer. Like a sleepy cat, she curls around me. The subtle movements of her leg drag over my dick.
“How do you feel, baby?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.” Her voice is thick and husky from sleep. She looks up at me through her lashes, her blue eyes reflecting the safety she feels with me—so different from the terror that drenched them last night. “I just want to be Cash and Harlow right now. No Bratva, no Doug, no notes, no murders…” She trails off, and I can feel her body begin to tense.
Desperate to give her the lazy morning she wants, I cup her cheek and bring her mouth to mine. Instantly, she softens again, her plush body curving around mine like they were always meant to fit together like this.
“What’s your favorite color,a chuisle?”I whisper against her lips.
“Pink, why?” Her mouth tugs at the corners.
“Just Cash getting to know Harlow.” She smiles at that and kisses my jaw.
“What’s your favorite animal?” she asks with a hint of giddiness.
“A fox. I’d think that would be pretty obvious.” I laugh and give her ass a light slap. “One meal you could eat everyday and never get sick of?”
“Mac and cheese with hotdogs.” I raise my eyebrow at her answer.
She trails her finger from my sternum to the outside of my ribs, caressing the letters tattooed down my side. I expect her question before she even opens her mouth. “What does it say?”
I want her to know exactly how much the words mean, but for some reason I still find myself giving the easy answer, the answer that won’t reveal my heart. “Pulse of my heart.”
She pries more. “In Irish?”
“It was something my mother used to say to us. The literal translation is the pulse of my heart, but it means my beloved, my darling.”
“Tell me about her.” She props herself up on her elbow to get a better look at me, her face curious. “Please.”
I sigh, the poorly healed cracks on my heart splintering. “She grew up in Ireland. My father met her when he went over there in his late twenties to visit relatives. He was supposed to only stay the summer, but didn’t come back until two years later with a wife and new baby boy.” It’s easier to speak in these broad terms, removing myself from the narrative, telling it like a story and not my life.
“You.”
