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“There’s more.”
I brace myself, but more doesn’t come.
Instead, I feel the slightest brush of fingers at the ends of my hair where it lays behind me on the pillow. In the dark, I listen to Etienne’s breath, which has gone slightly ragged.
“May I hold you?”
Good gods, yes. “Why not,” I say breezily, as if I hadn’t wished for this. As if I haven’t longed for exactly that for years and years.
Etienne’s big arms surround me in warmth, much like the compromising position I’d found us in early this morning. But this time, Etienne’s touch is chaste. My spine relaxes against the warmth of his chest and stomach, one vertebra at a time, creating the same satisfied feeling of watching a line of dominoes fall. Satisfying, as long as one doesn’t have to clean up the mess.
“You’re not alone anymore, darling.” He speaks the words close and kisses my temple.
My eyes prick as tears well up in them, and my damned hopeful heart skips a beat. But for how long, dear prince?
And who will clean up my mess when you break me?
21
Etienne
When I wake in the middle of the night, my head is using Kala’s breasts as pillows.
I’m unsure how I ended up here, but I feel like a grade-A perv.
That is until I feel her fingers winding lazy paths through my hair.
Falling asleep with her in my arms felt right. I’d never say that out loud, but having someone to hold on to—having her to hold on to—felt as natural as if we’d been together for years.
But we’re not together; we’re just married.
I say nothing but close my eyes again and surrender to her light touches.
Last night was the first time in as long as I can remember that I didn’t go to sleep with the help of at least a nip of scotch or something else that does the job.
My head is blissfully empty of everything but her. I feel…needed. I didn’t know being needed would ever come naturally to me. I’ve never been the type of person who nurtures. But maybe there is no “type.” Perhaps I’m just me.
I don’t even mind so much that my cock has been stiff since I snuggled against her. The urge to care for someone else’s needs before my own outweighed everything else.
A hard bump presses against my jaw through the fabric of her nightshirt. When I shift slightly in her arms, the tiny bumps harden. That’s a nipple, you moron. Kala's sensitive breasts make my mouth water with need.
When Kala lets out a gentle sigh, I sense she’s awake.
Her breasts are so soft I ache to touch them, nuzzle them, and feel their weight in my hands.
Kala’s fingers in my hair make me dizzy with lust. A low growl escapes me as I adjust my throbbing cock where it presses against her hip.
The movement causes more friction, more contact, and yet not enough. I itch to touch her.
I slowly wind my arm around her ribs, over her pajama top, toying with the lacy hem that’s hiked above her bare midriff.
Her movements pause, and her body stiffens.
“Etienne, what are you up to?”
“About eight inches, I reckon.”
She lets out a half-hearted scoff, but where my head is, I can feel her heart rate increase. In the dark, I open my eyes and see the outline of her breast rise and fall. Right next to my face.
