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“Hold me.” She throws her arms around me, sounding damn vulnerable, I nearly fall apart, too.
Jesus fucking Christ…
Straddling her, I gather her in my arms, and rest my wet chest against hers. My heart is a raging bull of Pamplona, but I don’t want to calm down. I want to remember every second of this high. This moment.
With Jillian’s face buried in my pecs, I mutter, “Forever.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Jillian
Everything’s blurry.
I feel drugged.
Sex has become an addiction for me.
Eoghan is my fix.
I am so owned by him.
I love it.
But it also terrifies me.
After we dry off and climb into bed, I fall asleep pinned in his arms. We’re both completely naked and it’s heavenly. We make love again in the middle of the night, him fulfilling another promise to pump me with more and more of his seed.
I wake to a cup of coffee under my nose. My heavy eyes lift and Eoghan stands over me, my nude body tangled in the sheets. A wolfish grin spreads across his mouth as a hand runs down my spine.
When I feel a finger about to slip into my exposed ass, I sit up and grab the coffee. “What time is it?”
“A little after five.” He bends down for a kiss while I sip the coffee. “Kiss me good morning,” he whispers.
I consider how ravaged I look, my hair bent and choppy with waves from not even having the strength to brush it last night. I really don’t give a flying fuck what I look like because this man loves the primal side to me.
Ignoring my likely coffee and morning breath, I press a chaste kiss to lips that always taste sweet. “Good morning,” I say, my eyes slipping closed.
Mom’s surgery is at seven, and I promised I’d be there for her prep work. But as I sit in my teenage bedroom, which thankfully received a makeover years ago to add a new queen-sized bed and to remove the rock-God posters over bubble-gum pink paint, all I can think about is the hunk of man standing before me.
He’s my mafia god wearing gray sweatpants, his semi-erect dick outlined so perfectly. “Don’t eye my cock, sparkles. I’ll make us late.”
Because I’m a masochist, I throw this grenade. “You don’t have to come with me to the hospital—” But the words die in my throat when he looks…hurt.
“You don’t want me with you?”
Christ, how do I tell this man I want him with me every second of every day? I’m as obsessed and hooked on him as he is me. But it’s hard shaking that nagging doubt that has crippled my confidence my whole life.
I shake it off. That stops today.
“I do want you with me.”
“About time you stopped lying to yourself,” he says, putting down his mug. “Now let’s take a quick shower.”
Quick melts into a fifteen-minute pump-fest into my mouth…
“You’ll be fine. See you afterward,” I say to Mom even though I’m nearly as nervous as she appears being wheeled off to surgery.
Eoghan hugs me against his chest. “She will be fine.”
