bites into my shoulder, whimpering loudly as she vibrates all over me. “Shit,” she puffs, stroking at the hair on my nape, limp against me. We’re one big pile of sweating, heaving bodies.
And it’s fucking perfect.
I collapse back, and she splatters on my front, her wet cheek on my chest. I toss my arm on the pillow above my head and hold her with the other. My eyes are heavy. I could sleep for a fucking year.
Reality leaves me. My purpose leaves me. My life leaves me.
Right now, there is only Rose. I feel like I’ve been born again. And even though I secretly swore to save her, I’m now not sure who’s saving who.
Chapter 18
ROSE
* * *
He wasn’t being gallant. There was no gain for him in his actions, only loss. He lost a man. Before that, he had already won me, and I think he knew that deep down before he put a gun in my hand and told me to kill Watson. He was proving a point to me. He was also proving a point to his men. No one can touch me if they want to continue breathing.
It felt good. For someone to have my back, it felt so good. But with the elation comes guilt. And worry. But if there is a man who can fix my mess, it’s Danny. First, I have to hope he forgives me for betraying him. I also have to build up the courage to tell him I’m not who he thinks I am. But that’s a problem for another day. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. I know time isn’t on my side, but while he’s currently spooning me, his body curved perfectly around mine, I can’t bring myself to ruin this moment. He’s still inside me, though soft now, and has been snoozing with his lips in my hair for a while. It’s 7 a.m. He only finished blowing my world apart again and again a few hours ago. I’m sticky, the scent of sex hangs thick in the air, and I’m aching perfectly everywhere, the best between my legs. I’ve never felt so serene. So at peace. It defies reason with so many consequences hanging over me.
Taking his hand on my stomach, I weave my fingers with his and melt further into his body, closing my eyes and concentrating on feeling him on every inch of my skin.
“I dreamt of you.” His voice is hoarse with sleep, his breath hot against the back of my head. I open my eyes and stare forward, waiting for him to go on. But he doesn’t, and I start to turn over, hearing him hiss a little when he finally slips free from me.
I shuffle over with his help until I’m mirroring him. His hand finds my hip, and he props himself up on his elbow. He is gorgeous in the morning. All sexed up, his eyes drowsy. “What did you dream?” I ask as he circles his fingertip on my hipbone. A flurry of tingles pitter-patter over my skin, reaching my nipples, and he smiles at the stiffening of them, leaning down and brushing his lips across one. I exhale and roll to my back, letting him crawl onto me and spread his body over mine. My hands delve into his messy hair while he splits his attention between each breast.
“I dreamt about these.” He bites down on my nipple, making me solidify beneath him. “And this.” His hand sinks down between us and cups me, his long, thick finger slipping easily inside of me. “And these.” He moves up to my lips and indulges my mouth for a few, mind-spinning moments while he works me up once again. It’s easy affection, and it’s wonderful. “I dreamt it was all mine.”
“And is it?” I ask. “All yours?”
“There’s no question.” His grin is wicked as he goes back to my chest, devouring each breast hungrily, his one finger turning into two. “My father always warned me that women make you vulnerable.” He works his way down to my stomach and brushes his nose across my skin, studying the expanse of flesh. I prop myself up on my elbows to look down at him, watching him drift lower and lower. My blood whooshes with anticipation.
I breathe his name, spreading my thighs wider for him. He replaces his fingers with his mouth and licks me softly, kissing me gently between each sweep of his tongue. Good God. I drop to my back and