Chapter 9
Troy
Saturday morning, and I haven't slept in my bed since Monday.
Not once.
Every night this week, Ainsley's come home from her shift, woke me from the couch and led me to her room and crawled into her bed beside me, and fallen asleep with her head on my chest and my arm wrapped around her.
We haven't done more than kiss—soft, sweet kisses that leave me aching for more but never pushing past what she's ready for.
And I wouldn't change a damn thing.
Because now I have her.
Not completely. Not yet. But enough that I can feel the walls coming down, brick by brick. Enough that she reaches for me in her sleep and whispers my name when she's dreaming. Enough that I know, without a doubt, this woman is mine.
I'm standing in the kitchen at seven-thirty, trying to be quiet. She didn't get home until three this morning—Friday nights are brutal at The Lucky Tap—and I want her to sleep as long as she needs.
The coffee pot gurgles as I lean against the counter, scrolling through my phone. Kevin texted earlier asking if I wanted to grab lunch, but I already know my answer. I'm not leaving this house unless Ainsley's with me.
I've got it bad.
Worse than bad.
I'm completely gone for this woman.
Footsteps pad down the hallway, and I look up.
Ainsley shuffles into the kitchen, and my breath catches.
She's wearing one of my T-shirts—the gray Army one I left on her bedroom floor Thursday night. It swallows her whole, falling to mid-thigh, the neckline slipping off one shoulder. Her hair's a mess of dark curls, pillow-creased and wild. No makeup, eyes still heavy with sleep, cheeks flushed pink.
She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Morning," I say, voice rougher than I'd like.
She blinks at me, then yawns. "What time is it?"
"Seven-thirty."
"Why are you awake?" She shuffles toward the coffee pot like a sleepy zombie. "It's Saturday."
"Old habits." I watch her pour a mug, add way too much creamer, and take a long sip. "You should still be asleep."
"I woke up, and you weren't there." She says it as if it's the simplest thing in the world. Like it's a given that I should be in her bed. "I couldn't fall back asleep."
My chest tightens. "Sorry."
"It's fine." She leans against the counter beside me, close enough that our shoulders brush. "I like waking up with you."
I set my phone down and turn to face her. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She takes another sip of coffee, gaze drifting to my mouth. "Even if you steal all the blankets."
"I don't steal the blankets."
"You absolutely steal the blankets." Her lips twitch. "And you snore."
"I do not snore."
"You do. It's cute."
I narrow my eyes. "Cute."
"Very cute." She grins, and it's the first proper smile I've seen from her all week. Open. Unguarded. "Like a grumpy bear."
"A grumpy bear," I repeat flatly.
"Mm-hmm." She sets her mug down on the counter and steps closer, tilting her head up to look at me. "A very sexy grumpy bear."
Heat punches low in my gut. "Is that right?"
"That's right."
We stare at each other for a beat, and I can see the shift in her expression. The way her pupils dilate. The way her breath quickens.
"I should apologize," I say.
She blinks. "For what?"
"For breaking the rules."
Her eyebrows lift. "Which rule?"
"All of them." I reach out, tucking a curl behind her ear. "Especially number ten."
"Number ten," she echoes, voice breathless.
"No flirting." I let my hand drift down, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "I've been flirting with you since the day I moved in, Ainsley. Every single day."
"I know." Her hand comes up to rest on my chest, right over my heart. "I've been flirting back."
"I noticed."
"Good." She rises on her toes, bringing her mouth close to mine. "Now shut up and kiss me already."
I don't need to be told twice.
I close the distance and capture her mouth with mine, and this kiss differs from the ones we've shared this week. They were soft. Tentative. Testing boundaries.
This is heat and hunger and five days of pent-up need finally breaking free.
She gasps against my mouth, and I take advantage, deepening the kiss. My hands slide down to her hips, fingers curling into the soft fabric of my T-shirt, pulling her flush against me. Her body fits against mine as if she’s made for it.
Her hands move up my chest, over my shoulders, threading into my hair. She tugs, just a little, and I groan into her mouth.
"Troy," she whispers, voice shaking.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"I need—" She breaks off, breath coming fast. "I need you."
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her eyes are dark, lips swollen from my kiss, cheeks flushed. "You sure?"
"I'm sure." Her fingers tighten in my hair. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
Something snaps inside me.
I lift her onto the counter in one smooth motion, stepping between her thighs. She gasps, legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer. I kiss her again, harder this time, pouring everything I've been holding back into it.
My hands roam—over her thighs, her abundant hips, up her sides. She arches into my touch, a soft moan escaping her throat that makes my blood run hot.
"God, Ainsley," I murmur against her mouth. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."
"Tell me," she breathes.
"Since the second you opened that door." I trail kisses down her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. "Since you stood there in those leggings, looking at me like I was trouble."
"You are trouble."
"Yeah?" I nip at the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she shivers. "Then why'd you let me move in?"
"Because I'm an idiot." Her laugh is breathless. "A very turned-on, horny idiot."
I pull back to look at her, and the sight of her—hair wild, shirt slipping off her shoulder, eyes heavy with want—undoes me.
"You're perfect," I say, and I mean it. Every word.
Her expression softens. "Troy—"
"I mean it." I cup her face in my hands, thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "You're perfect, Ainsley. And I'm going to spend the rest of the morning proving it to you."
Her breath hitches. "Promise?"
"Promise."
I kiss her again, slow and deep, and she melts into me. My hands slide under the hem of my T-shirt—her shirt now—fingers splaying across bare skin. She's warm and soft, and when I realize she's not wearing anything underneath, I nearly lose my mind.
"Jesus," I breathe against her mouth.
"What?"
"You're not wearing—"
"I know." Her hands drop to the hem of my shirt, tugging upward. "Take this off."
I obey, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. Her gaze drags over my chest, my shoulders, the tattoos on my arms, and I watch her pupils blow wide. Then soften as they eye my scar on my shoulder, and she kisses it before swirling her tongue over it.
“Fuck. Your turn," I murmur, fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt.
She nods, and I lift it slowly, giving her time to change her mind. But she doesn't. She raises her arms, letting me pull it off, and when I toss it aside and look at her, my brain short-circuits.
She's gorgeous.
Full breasts, soft curves, a fleshy belly, and skin flushed pink with arousal. And the way she's looking at me—like I'm everything she's ever wanted—makes something fierce and possessive roar to life in my chest.
"You're staring," she whispers.
"Can't help it." I drag my gaze back up to hers. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Emotions prick at the corners of her eyes. "Troy—"
"I've got you," I say, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. "I've got you, sweetheart."
And then I worship her.
I kiss every inch of skin I can reach—her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. She gasps and arches into me, hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging into my skin.
When I take one nipple into my mouth, she cries out, head falling back against the cabinet. I work her slowly, thoroughly, until she's trembling and breathless and begging me for more.
"Troy, please—"
"I know." I kiss my way down her stomach, hands sliding to her pussy. "Can I?"
"Yes." Her voice is shaking. "God, yes."
I hook my fingers on her wet lips and stroke before I spread her out on the counter. She’s flushed and wanting—I have to take a breath to steady myself.
"You're killing me," I mutter.
She laughs, breathless. "Good."
I kiss her inner thigh, then higher, and I inhale her deep as I salivate. Licking her with the tip of my tongue to tease myself with her taste for the first time, she moans so loud I'm pretty sure the neighbors can hear.
I don't care.
She tastes delicious, something I’ll never tire of. I work her with my mouth, my fingers, learning every sound she makes, every place that makes her gasp and shake. She's sweet and responsive, hands fisting in my hair, hips rocking against my mouth.
"Troy—oh God—I'm—"
"Let go," I murmur against her. "I've got you. I always got you."
She comes apart with a cry, her whole body shaking, and I hold her through it, kissing her thighs, her stomach, working her down.
When she goes limp, breath coming in ragged gasps, I stand and pull her into my arms.
"Okay?" I ask, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"Okay?" She laughs, the sound shaky. "That was—I can't—oh my God."
I grin. "I'll take that as a yes."
"Troy." She cups my face in her hands, eyes bright. "I need you. Now."
"You sure?"
"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
I kiss her hard, then scoop her up off the counter. She squeals, wrapping her legs around my waist, and I carry her down the hall to her bedroom.
I lay her down on the bed, and she reaches for me, pulling me down on top of her. I brace myself on my forearms, careful not to crush her, and she kisses me like she's drowning and I'm air.
"Protection?" I ask, voice rough.
She blushes. "Nightstand. Top drawer. I just bought them."
I smirk and reach over, fumbling for a second before finding the box. I tear one open with my teeth, and she watches me with heavy-lidded eyes as I shove my sweatpants down and roll the condom on.
When I settle between her thighs, she wraps her legs around me, pulling me close.
"Ready?" I ask, searching her face.
"Ready."
I push in slowly, watching her face the whole time. She gasps, eyes fluttering closed, nails digging into my shoulders.
"Okay?" I grit out, holding still.
"More than okay." She opens her eyes, and they're shining. "Move, Troy. Please."
I do.
I set a slow, steady rhythm, and she moves with me, and our bodies find a rhythm that seems built just for us. She's warm and tight and perfect, and every sound she makes drives me closer to the edge.
"God, Ainsley," I breathe against her neck. "You feel so good."
"Don't stop." Her voice breaks. "Please don't stop."
"Never." I kiss her hard, hips rolling. "I'm never letting you go."
We move together, faster now, chasing something just out of reach. She's gasping, clinging to me, whispering my name like a prayer.
“Play with your breasts, baby. Let me watch you.” The sunlight beams in from the window, highlighting my woman in light beneath me.
She bites her lip and drops her hands from roaming over my body as I lean back to get a better view of watching myself plunge in and out of her.
While also watching her grab her breasts and pinch her nipples. “Fuck yeah, baby. Does that feel good?”
I roll my hips so I rub against her clit, and she groans loudly and nods her head yes.
“It feels so good. So good.” She pulls on her nipples, and her eyes jump from mine to where we’re joined.
“You enjoy watching me fuck you? Do you like watching how good you take me? You take me so well, baby. Your pussy is so tight.”
She soaks me more and clenches my dick, and I want to puff up my chest at how much she is enjoying this.
“You love me talking dirty to you?”
“Yes. I love it.”
“Good. Because you’re mine now, and this is only the beginning. I’m going to worship your pussy, my pussy every chance I get.”
She moans and drops her hands from her breasts to wrap around my shoulders.
“Troy, I’m close. So close.”
“Come for me, Ainsley. Show me how good I make you feel.”
Four more strokes and she comes, taking me with her. I’ve never come so hard in my life.
We fall together, tangled and breathless and undone.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back. Never once feeling so content in my life. This is heaven to me.
"Troy?" she whispers.
"Yeah?"
"That was..." She trails off, laughing. "I don't even have words."
"Me neither." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "You okay?"
"More than okay." She tilts her head up to look at me, and there's something vulnerable in her expression. "I'm... I'm really happy."
My chest tightens. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I take a breath, then say the words I've been holding onto for days.
"I love you."
She goes still. "What?"
"I love you, Ainsley." I cup her face, holding her gaze. "I know it's fast. I know we're still figuring this out. But I need you to know. I love you."
Tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them away, and for a second I panic. But then she's smiling.
"I love you too," she whispers. "God, Troy, I love you so much."
Relief floods through me, and I kiss her—soft and full of everything I can't put into words.
"Say it again," I murmur against her mouth.
"I love you."
"Again."
She laughs, cupping my face. "I love you, Troy Abernathy."
"Good." I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her. "Because I'm not going anywhere. And that's a promise."
We stay like that for a long time, tangled together in the morning light, and for the first time in years, I feel like I'm where I'm supposed to be.
Home.