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“Sorry,” I said softly. “I bled on the floor.”
He bent and pressed a kiss below my navel. A shock of heat traveled down to my tender core and I squirmed, suddenly wanting to do it all again. Now that I’d felt him inside me, all my fear was gone.
My pink card was swiped.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MERRICK
I’d never been so glad that she didn’t speak Welsh than right now.
Why had I said that?
My post-orgasm clarity returned like a wall of bricks. I cleaned her with a warm, damp cloth and tugged her sweatpants up over her hips. She watched me, chewing that damn spot on the inside of her mouth.
Her eyes were wide, glassy. Her lower lip was swollen.
She looked good like this. Just-fucked and satisfied.
We went back into the kitchen and she got a glass of water. There was a long silence as she sipped it, clearly stalling. I washed my hands, letting the blood and cum disappear down the drain.
Evidence of what we’d done.
She set aside her glass and slid up against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her head settled on my sternum, nestling against my naked chest. My hand hovered, hesitating, over her hair.
I bent and breathed in. Sweet, dark jasmine.
“Do you really not speak Welsh?” I asked.
She shook her head.
“Why is that?”
She shrugged.
“Your father never taught you?” I pressed.
She pulled back, laughing. It was short and humorless. “My father never taught me anything.”
I kept quiet for a moment, watching as she started making another round of coffees. She was lovely, washed out in the bright, snowy light. Her cropped shirt hung off one shoulder and her baggy sweatpants were rolled around her hips.
Under her clothes, I’d put my signature on her body. Between her thighs, she was forever altered by me.
Why did that feel so good? I should be ashamed of myself. I stepped up behind her, running my fingers through that silky hair. She paused, letting her eyes rest out the window. There was a group of deer at the edge of the woods. Rummaging under the snow for frozen green.
“I never talk about my father because he was your closest friend,” she said.
Her voice was different. Detached.
I traced her spine to the small of her back. “That shouldn’t stop you.”
“I never understood it.”
“Understood what?”
She turned and braced the heels of her hands on the sink. She did this thing with her hip when she was gearing up to have an honest talk. I dropped my eyes.
She was doing it, popping her left hip out.
