Page 141 of Micah

Looks like I wore her out.

I chuckle quietly, shaking my head.

“You scared the hell out of me, Princess.”

Carefully, I make sure she's comfortable, reaching for my discarded shirt to gently clean away the evidence of our intimacy before it gets sticky. Then I toss it into the growing pile of laundry I intend to pick up in the morning.

Nothing about the moment feels rushed.

Or awkward.

It feels right.

Domestic.

Natural.

Like taking care of her is the most instinctive thing I've ever done.

Maybe it is.

I slip one arm beneath her knees and another around her back.

She barely stirs as I lift her.

A sleepy little sigh escapes her lips, and without even thinking about it, she curls closer, resting her cheek over my heart.

Like she belongs there.

Like she was always meant to.

My chest tightens.

Christ.

I think about what she said earlier.

I'm too heavy.

The memory makes me frown.

This world is so fucked up.

We spend all this time telling women they're too much.

Too curvy.

Too loud.

Too emotional.

Too heavy.

Too something.

It's bullshit.

For fuck's sake, I've carried wounded soldiers—men twice her size.