Chapter 8
Devon
I wake up with Suri in my arms, and for one long, perfect second, I don’t move. I don’t breathe. I just take her in.
Her cheek is pressed against my chest, her brown hair spread over my skin and the pillow, one soft thigh thrown over mine like she belongs there. Like she’s been sleeping next to me for years instead of one night.
My arm is wrapped around her waist, my hand splayed across the bare skin of her back beneath the blanket. She’s warm and soft and real.
Mine.
The word settles in my chest, fierce and certain.
I’ve been in firefights. I’ve jumped out of planes. I’ve tracked targets through hostile territory and waited in the dark with my finger on a trigger. None of it prepared me for this.
For waking up beside the woman who kept me alive, for feeling her breathe against me, for knowing I finally have her right where she should have been all along.
Suri makes a sleepy little sound and shifts closer, her breasts brushing my ribs. My entire body reacts instantly, my cock hardening beneath the sheets.
I grit my teeth.
Down, boy.
She had her first time last night. I did too, but it’s not the same for guys. There’s no pain or soreness for me. I’m not going to maul her the second she opens her eyes, no matter how badly I want to roll her under me and remind her exactly who she belongs to.
Her lashes flutter, and she inhales softly. A second later, she goes still.
I know the moment she remembers where she is. I know because her heart kicks against my side.
“Morning, baby,” I murmur.
Her face tilts up slowly, those blue eyes meet mine, and my chest tightens so hard that it almost hurts.
“Morning,” she whispers shyly, her voice rough with sleep.
It does dangerous things to me.
“How do you feel?”
Her cheeks turn pink. “Okay.”
My eyebrows pull together. “Just okay?”
She gives me a small smile. “Good. A little sore.”
Guilt punches through me, even though I know I was careful. I roll onto my side, keeping her tucked close. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry.” She traces a finger over the scar near my ribs, and the light touch sends heat rushing through me. “I wanted it.”
“I know.” My hand slides up her spine. “Doesn’t mean I like knowing I hurt you.”
Her expression softens. “You didn’t hurt me. Not like that.”
I don’t answer right away because I know what she means, and I hate that there has ever been any kind of hurt attached to me in her mind. Not from last night. From before. From all the years I didn’t see her. From the time she spent thinking she loved me alone.
I cup her cheek. “I’m going to make it up to you.”
Her lips twitch. “For what?”
“For every second you ever felt invisible.”
Her breath catches, and I hold her gaze so she can see that I mean it. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure Suri knows exactly how seen she is. How wanted. How necessary.
She looks down, her lashes hiding her eyes, and something sharp cuts through me.
There it is. The hesitation. The little bit of distance I felt last night, even when she was trembling beneath me, giving herself to me completely.
It wasn’t there all the time. Not when she was coming apart in my arms. Not when she whispered that she wanted me, but afterward, when I held her, I felt it.
Like part of her was still braced. Still waiting.
“Suri,” I say quietly.
She peeks up at me. “Hmm?”
“What’s going on in that pretty head?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Her lips press together.
I roll fully onto my side and gather her closer. “Talk to me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing if it has you looking like you’re about to run.”
Her eyes widen. “I’m not going to run.”
“Good.” I brush my thumb along her jaw. “Because I’d chase you.”
That earns me a small laugh, but it fades too quickly. My stomach tightens.
“Baby.”
She sighs and rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The blanket slips lower, baring the tops of her breasts, and I force myself to keep my eyes on her face.
“I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Try.”
She swallows. “Last night was amazing.”
Pride and possessiveness burn through me. “Yeah?”
She glances over at me, and her blush deepens. “You know it was.”
“I like hearing you say it.”
That gets me another tiny smile. Then she looks away again.
“It was amazing,” she repeats softly. “You were amazing. Everything was… perfect.”
“But?”
Her fingers twist in the sheet. “But I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
I go still. “What shoe?”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “That’s the thing. I don’t even know. I guess I keep waiting for you to realize this was all too much. That maybe you built me up in your head because of the letters and now that I’m actually here, I won’t be what you imagined.”
My jaw clenches so hard that it aches. “Suri—”
“Maybe you’ll remember I’m just some girl from high school who had a crush on you. Or maybe this is all happening fast because we had all those years of letters, but real life is different and—”
I move before she can finish.
In one second, I’m over her, braced on my forearms, my body covering hers. She gasps, and her eyes fly to mine.
“Stop,” I growl.
Her lips part in shock.
“Stop talking about yourself like that.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.” My voice is rougher than I intended, but I can’t soften it.
Not with her lying beneath me, looking uncertain about the one thing I’ve never been more sure of in my life.
“You are not just some girl from high school. You are not a fantasy I made up. You are not replaceable. You are not temporary.”
Her throat works.
“You’re Suri,” I say, lowering my forehead to hers. “You’re the woman who wrote to me when I was alone. You’re the woman who kept showing up for me when no one else ever did. You’re the woman I fell in love with before I knew your face, and when I saw your face, I just fell harder.”
Her eyes shimmer. “I’m still scared,” she whispers.
Something inside me breaks open, and I do the only thing I can think of.
I kiss her.
Not hard. Not the way I want to. I kiss her softly, carefully, pouring every bit of promise I have into it. She melts beneath me, her hands lifting to my shoulders.
When I pull back, her lips chase mine.
“Nothing is dropping,” I tell her. “No shoe. No bomb. No bad ending. Not with us.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“The hell I can’t.”
Her eyes narrow a little. “Devon.”
“I can’t promise we’ll never have bad days.
I can’t promise we’ll never fight. I can’t promise life won’t be messy.
” I brush her hair back from her face. “But I can promise that I’m not going anywhere.
I can promise that I’ll choose you every damn day.
I can promise that if you get scared, I’ll be right here reminding you until you believe me. ”
A tear slips down her temple.
I kiss it away. “Last night didn’t scare me off,” I murmur. “It ruined me for anyone else. Not that there ever was anyone else.”
Her hands tighten on my shoulders. “Devon.”
“I love when you say my name like that.”
Her breath hitches. I feel the change in her instantly. The sadness doesn’t vanish, but heat slides in beside it. Her eyes darken, her body softens beneath mine, and her thighs part enough that I settle more fully between them.
My cock presses against her through the thin barrier of the sheet.
We both go still.
“Suri,” I warn, even as my hips flex.
Her fingers drag over my shoulders, down my back. “I’m not too sore.”
My laugh comes out strained. “Baby, don’t test me.”
“I’m not testing you.” Her eyes lift to mine. Shy, but sure. “I want you.”
Every muscle in my body locks. “You need to be very clear right now.”
She licks her lips. “I want you again.”
I close my eyes and count to three. It doesn’t help.
When I open them again, she’s watching me with those big blue eyes, her cheeks flushed, her hair messy on my pillow, and I know I’m a dead man.
“You tell me if anything hurts.”
“I will,” she promises quickly.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
I kiss her again, slow and deep, letting her feel how badly I want her while keeping myself restrained. Barely. Suri arches beneath me, her soft body rubbing against mine.
A groan tears out of my chest. “Fuck, baby.”
Her hands slide into my hair and tug.
That’s all it takes.
I drag the sheet down her body and lose my damn mind all over again. She’s bare beneath me. Soft curves, flushed skin, my marks faint on her neck and breasts from last night. I stare at her like a starving man because that’s exactly what I am.
“Beautiful,” I rasp.
Her gaze flickers, that old insecurity trying to rise again, so I lower my mouth to her collarbone and kiss my way down.
“I’m going to say it until you believe me.”
I kiss the curve of her breast.
“Beautiful.”
Her stomach.
“Perfect.”
The swell of her hip.
“Mine.”
She trembles.
“Devon.”
I settle between her thighs and press a kiss to the inside of one knee. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”
She shakes her head immediately. “Don’t stop.”
I smile against her skin. “Good answer.”
I take my time with her because she deserves it. Because she’s sore and new to this, and because I want every touch to prove something. I want her to feel wanted in every kiss, every stroke of my hand, every whispered word against her skin.
I kiss her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. I worship every inch of her until she’s restless beneath me, her breath coming faster, her fingers twisting in the sheets.
When my hand slides between her legs, she gasps.
I freeze. “Pain?”
“No,” she says quickly. “Just… sensitive.”
“Too much?”
“No.” Her hips lift a little. “Please.”
That word almost ends me. I touch her slowly, gently, watching her face for every reaction. She’s warm and slick and so responsive that my control frays almost immediately. Her lashes flutter. Her lips part. Her nails scrape over my arms.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Let me take care of you.”
She whimpers, and I lower my mouth to hers, swallowing the sound as I work her higher. I don’t rush. I don’t push. I keep it slow until her body relaxes fully beneath me, until she’s moving with my hand instead of holding herself still.