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I made my move and now we’re here.
Waking up together with infinite complications.
I expected to feel—shit, a lot of things, truth be told—but seeing her lying next to me like this, it’s not the confusing mess I expected.
Mostly, there’s guilt.
Then fear, then heartache, then a splash of good old-fashioned self-loathing for fucking up this much.
Is it really a fuck up if it feels this good, though?
Does it have to end in disaster like indulging some horribly addictive drug binge?
If we never had to leave this bed and deal with those questions, I’d be a happy man. Whether it’s watching her sleep or fucking her brains out, she’s stirred up some insatiable hunger, some madness that tells me Ineedto experience every part of Juniper Winkley.
Even my eyes grow hungrier the longer I stare.
There are faint freckles dusted across her nose. I never noticed them before.
Her long, natural lashes have the same coppery-red tint as her hair, and when she’s asleep like this, her forehead is smooth. No sign of the creases it carries when she’s awake and wrestling with a thousand worries about her store, her life, and the mess I’ve created.
She spends too much time worrying for a woman so young.
She’s only in her mid-twenties, but when she frowns, she looks like she carries the weight of someone twice her age.
That damn store.
Not that I wasn’t handling heavy responsibilities at her age, but looking back, they weren’t exactly good for my health, physically or mentally.
Goddammit, I shouldn’t care this much.
But when I can feel her every breath and after I’ve been inside her, it’s impossible not to care about this beautiful, wild, impulsive slip of a woman.
Her eyelids flutter as she stirs, and I tighten my arm around her.
“Morning,” I say.
“Dex?” If the soft morning sun had a sound, it would be like my name on her lips. She half sits up before she remembers she’s totally naked and grabs at the duvet. Like I haven’t already seen every inch of her. “Um… is there a reason you’re staring?”
I tug the duvet back down.
“That ship has sailed, Sweet Stuff.”
“Did we…?”
“You mean you don’t remember?” My eyes go wide.
She glances at me, then down to the tenting sheets over my lap. Her cheeks glow delectably pink. The same shade they turned yesterday when I had her against the wall and mounted her from behind, groaning like a beast as I brought her off for the fourth time.
Yes, I fucking counted.
“I remember,” she whispers. “I just didn’t know if I was dreaming.”
“Why?” I ask carefully. “Do you regret it?”
There’s a silence, entirely too long, before she smiles and places a hand on my chest. “No. Do you?”
“Fucking hell, sweetheart, is that a real question?” I push her down so I can kiss her. “You’re enough to drive any man wild for ten lifetimes.”
