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His hands move down to my arse, and he drags me to the edge of the counter. I look down between us and watch him grasp his bare cock, rubbing his head through the slick heat of my arousal. “Give me everything you’ve got, Mr Sinclair. Don’t hold back.”

“You’re so wet … and so needy.” I bite down on the corner of my lip when he eases the tip inside. I don’t know if it’s because he’s big or because it’s been a while, but it stings as he stretches me wide. “And tight.” He presses his forehead to my shoulder and groans, the sound low and strained. “So fucking tight.”

My breath catches, and I instinctively reach for him as the reality of what we’re doing settles over me. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

I nod. “I’m good.”

“So good,” he grates out through gritted teeth as he withdraws all the way to the tip.

His eyes lock with mine, and the intensity in his expression softens, replaced by something impossibly tender, as he thrusts all the way back in. And in that instant, I realise I made the right decision.

This was never about outrunning my grief. It was about choosing him, not because I needed an escape, but because being with Bennett Sinclair has shown me where I want to be.

After Bennett gave me one hell of a mind-blowing orgasm on the kitchen counter, he gently lifted me back onto my feet, smoothed my skirt back into place, and took my hand, leading me into the bathroom.

The shower steamed around us as he quietly stripped me out of my clothes and took care of me. His touch was gentle, unhurried, and he asked for nothing in return.

It’s been years since someone looked after me with tender hands. Long enough that I’d forgotten what it felt like.

When we stepped out, he wrapped me in a towel, dried me off, then scooped me into his arms and carried me to my bedroom, laying me gently on the bed.

He dropped to his knees and buried his face between my legs. He took his time, making me feel cherished in a way that left me completely undone. When he finally climbed onto the mattress, hovering above me, I was trembling with need and a desperation to close the distance between us.

What followed did not disappoint.

After two more orgasms, Bennett insisted I get some desperately needed sleep.

I’m gathering he’s now ready for round three because I wake to warmth on my back, lips on my neck, and a skilful hand between my legs.

My eyelids flutter open, and a quiet moan slips free. My back arches and my rear pushes against his erection before I’m even fully awake.

“Morning, beautiful,” Bennett murmurs against my skin.

His voice sounds different this morning. Deep, rough with sleep, and I feel it right down to my bones.

I lift my arm, reaching back until my fingers find his hair. I gently comb them through the soft strands, smiling when he releases a contented hum.

I turn to face him, brushing my lips against his. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

“That could be arranged,” he replies matter-of-factly.

When my gaze flicks to the digital clock on the bedside table, and I see the time, my heart drops. I’m late for work.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, pushing against Bennett’s chest and sitting up.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for me as I scramble towards the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?”

“Work. Fuck,” I grumble, slipping from his grasp as I spring to my feet and rummage through my drawers for clothes. “I missed my bus. The next one’s in ten minutes.”

“Call in sick.”

“Who am I going to call at 4:30 in the morning? Everyone’s still asleep.”

“Exactly where you should be,” he says. “Come here.” He lifts his arms, wiggling his fingers in my direction.

“As appealing as that sounds, I need the money, Bennett.”

“I’ll pay you to come back to bed.”