Chapter 45
Hew abruptly fell asleep.
It was like he’d been waiting for that orgasm so long that it’d been intense enough to fell him like the proverbial tree.
Sabrina laughed. She couldn’t help it. She was so happy, she could have levitated.
Her shaking chest startled him awake. He pushed up on his elbows, his hair wild from her fingers, his eyes dazed and bleary.
“Did I fall asleep or pass out?” he rumbled, lazily pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, his lips warm and firm and so wonderfully familiar now.
“Pretty sure they’re the same thing in this instance.”
“Mmm.” He rolled off her and then hissed—they both did—when his softened body slid from hers. “I’ll grab a washcloth.”
“My knight in shining…nudity,” she finished with a devilish grin, watching his firm, bunching backside as he stalked across the room to disappear inside the bathroom.
When he reemerged, he had one of her fluffy washcloths in hand, and his spent member bobbed between his thick thighs. Even flaccid, he was…impressive.
She lifted her hand for the washcloth, then drew her eyebrows together when he shook his head. “I made the mess.” He winked. “I’ll be the one to clean it up.”
Before she could object, he whisked the covers aside and gently pressed the washcloth to the center of her.
She hissed, and a line of worry creased his brow. “Sore?” he asked.
“Mmm.” She nodded as he softly wiped away the evidence of his desire. “But in the best possible way.”
Hew was a big man. He’d stretched her to the limit. But she’d reveled in every inch of him.
“It’ll get easier,” he assured her. “Your body will become accustomed to mine.”
“Spoken from experience?” She lifted a teasing eyebrow.
His expression blanked. “No. I was a virgin before this.”
The laugh that exploded out of her had Peanut, who’d curled up in the chair in the corner, lifting his head and blinking judgmental yellow eyes at her.
“It’s a good thing you’re not Pinocchio. Your nose would’ve grown three feet with that whopper of a lie.”
His eyes dragged over the length of her naked body, stopping at the points of her breasts before traveling south and then stopping again at the apex of her legs. She knew she was pink and swollen. Still dewy from their combined orgasms.
“If I stand here starin’ at ya for ten more seconds, something is certainly goin’ to start growin’.”
On cue, his dick jerked. He gestured to it. “See?” he said unnecessarily.
“Toss that cloth in the tub and then come back to bed,” she instructed. “I miss you next to me.”
He marched to the bathroom door, lobbed the washcloth like a basketball player lobbing a shot, and then hopped into bed so quickly she couldn’t help but laugh.
“I do like a man who’s quick to follow orders,” she teased.
“I do like a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it,” he shot back.
She snuggled next to him, finding that place between his heart and his chin that was perfectly made to fit her cheek. “Well, then, we’re going to get along just fine.”
He chuckled, and she pushed up on one elbow so she could see his face.
His green eyes glowed with a happiness so pure it made her heart expand in her chest. For a heartbeat, she got a glimpse of the boy he’d once been. Unguarded, untouched by neglect and rejection.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, not realizing the question was sitting on the tip of her tongue until it’d fallen out of her mouth.
“Hmm?” One dark eyebrow arced. “When?”
“That afternoon two weeks ago. After we…” She made a motion with her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt then? Why did you act like you were anxious to foist me off onto Martin?”
Something flickered across his face. Shame, maybe? Embarrassment?
“Self-preservation, I reckon,” he finally admitted, his voice pitched low. “I was so used to bein’ rejected that I tried to beat ya to the punch.”
Her heart cracked for him then. For the sweet, little boy who’d never been chosen, never been anyone’s first pick.
For the kid who’d grown a tough skin as he’d been shuffled from foster home to foster home, group house to group house.
For the man who’d learned to armor himself in stoicism because no one had ever loved him.
Until now.
Until her.
And she would love him until her final breath.
She was rarely sure of much. But she was one-hundred-percent convinced of that.
“Is it too soon to tell you that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?” she asked quietly, her heart in her throat as she watched his face for any sign of shock or misgiving that she’d already jumped ahead to happily-ever-after.
None came.
“No.” He shook his head, his mouth pulling into a wide smile. “It’s not too soon. I’ve been waitin’ my whole life for someone to say that to me.”
She kissed him then. She’d meant for it to be quick and comforting. And it started that way to be sure. But it soon turned into so much more when he pulled her atop him so he could cup the back of her head and slide his talented tongue between her teeth.
As it always did when they were together, time lost all meaning. She had no idea if it was minutes later or an hour later when she reached between their bodies to grab him.
Even though she knew him intimately now, it was still a surprise to find him such a delicious, ridiculous handful.
And if he hadn’t spent the last…however long…
kissing her nipples and tickling her clit and readying her body, she might have hesitated.
Might have wondered how the thick, veiny, throbbing column of flesh that she stroked in her hand could ever fit inside her body.
But, as it was, she didn’t pause. She placed him at her opening and then slowly, slowly sank onto his length. Rejoicing in the way he filled her up and stretched her tight.
The first time had been fast and furious and filled with ravenous kisses and hungry hands. This time was slow and sweet…a dance of patience and reverence. Each glide down his length was a worshipful offering, each rise a silent promise that she wasn’t going anywhere.
The world beyond the bed ceased to exist as they rocked together in unhurried rhythm, two hearts speaking fluently in the oldest language known to man until they couldn’t hold out anymore, and they both gave in to delicious, decadent completion.
After the final throes of release subsided, they assumed the position they’d perfected when Sabrina was freshly traumatized and needed someone to hold onto, and when Hew was happy to provide her with the anchor she needed.
“Little backpack,” he murmured happily as she curled against him, the big spoon to his little spoon, her nose pressed into the sweet-smelling skin of his neck, and her fingers splayed wide against his ribs.
She could no longer fight the fatigue brought on by the past day's adrenaline, excitement, and emotional upheaval, so she let her last conscious thought be this…
I finally found a home. And it’s not a place. It’s a person. A man. A warm, brave, funny, wickedly sexy man.
And I’ll never, never let him go.