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"No. You're perfect for me. You're perfect. Period."
"You're not always going to feel the way."
"Good. I wouldn't mind feeling like you're more human than you appear."
He reaches for a loofah by the side of the tub, squeezing some body lotion on it, lathering it up with water. "Spread your legs, sweetheart."
"Erm, I might need some time. Like five minutes."
He laughs, and gently pries my thighs apart under the water, and runs the loofah between my legs. "You might be a bit sore tomorrow."
"Good. I want a reminder of what we did. And when it fades... I want you to remind me again."
"Be still my beating heart."
"I thought you didn't have one."
"I thought so, too, Moonshine. I thought so, too."
Thirty-Four
Kingsley
I'm doomed.
I know it.
She knows it.
Anyone who sees me with her knows it.
I'm consumed by her, by her body, her scent, her mind. Her potential, her kindness, her mouthiness, everything that makes her her.
When I'm with her, nothing else matters, and when I'm not, well she said it best when she described how I kiss her, when I'm not with her, I'm just thinking of when I can be with her next.
Which, luckily, isn't usually too long away.
I keep her by me whenever I can. Using the excuse of her education to invite her to every meeting. Pulling her intomy personal meetings with my lawyers, my accountants, my advisors as well as my business meetings.
She rarely says anything, just sits there, watching me.
Her eyes sharp, taking in notes I have for her.
And when we're alone, I only have two goals; making her moan, and making her laugh.
When she does either, the tangled hurt in the corners of my soul that I thought I had long shut away, slowly unravels.
She is my undoing.
And she's putting me back together, thread by thread, in the way only her hands can craft me, can mold me, in whatever shape she wants me.
Because I am hers.
And nothing else will matter until I know she is truly mine as well.
"Kingsley, we're going to be late."
"Who cares," I growl, my hands reaching for her under the blanket, pulling her body against mine, still warm and squishy from the few hours of sleep I've let her have.
