Page 31 of Hot Touch

Her fingertips drew random patterns on my chest.

“Thank you,” I breathed out.

“For what?” She lifted up to look at me.

“For today. For yesterday. For tomorrow.” She might have playfully rolled her eyes at my flowery words, but she knew I was serious.

“I love you, Mr. Benson.” She grinned, changing the subject because my woman was way too humble.

“I know, Mrs. Benson.” I kissed the top of her head. Her eyes sparkled before her gaze went to the old horribly painted lightsaber painting I’d moved into our bedroom. Something my girl had insisted on. Alex had taken one look at that painting andsmiled at me, telling me it was one of the most romantic quotes in film history. If I hadn’t already known she was mine, that would have sealed it.

She settled in next to me, her ear right over my heart.

“You wanna watch the game? she asked quietly, and I grunted in response. I didn’t need anything but her. My baby girl’s fingers started to move lower, and I knew my insatiable girl was feeling greedy.

Something I had no problem taking care of. One hot touch of her hand on me was all I needed to rally and find some extra energy to take care of the woman who not only held my heart in her hands but took care of me back.

And once again, I thought about what a lucky son of a bitch I was.