Chapter 6
Daphne was under no delusion that she was all healed. But at least now she understood why she still needed help, and she could admit it with full awareness. A different therapist, for sure, as Hunter had pointed out.
But one thing was worth saying: she’d had no nightmares last night.
And while that might have been thanks to the strong, warm body she’d curled into like a lifeline, she liked to think her system had finally, finally, started moving toward real peace.
She’d opened her eyes, still wrapped in Hunter’s arms, Hunter’s warmth, his sleep-heavy breath against her shoulder, and promptly spent a decent amount of time having indecent thoughts about him. Very indecent. The kind that would’ve made her old therapist raise a brow.
He’d been right the night before, about not using sex as a way to avoid feeling something else. About not rushing into anything to drown the echoes of pain.
But she hadn’t started wanting him because of the trauma. She’d wanted him before the breakdown, and she wanted him now, clear-eyed and emotionally grounded.
She’d watched him sleeping, his face somehow even more perfect. His hair a glorious mess. The hard edges of him softened by dreams. He’d stirred slightly as she began easing herself out of the blanket cocoon, but she had a plan that revolved around him, and it was time to start making it happen.
Also, she had to pee, and that left very little room for negotiation.
She slipped free, padded down the hall with a soft glance toward the winter morning.
White light streamed across the windows, and the world outside was blanketed in snow.
It was magical, but greater things awaited her, so she headed to the bathroom.
She brushed her teeth. Showered. Used that lotion, the one that smelled like vanilla, spices, and something darker, like dessert you’d regret and still go back for.
Wearing only that, she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.
Then, naked as the day she was born, she climbed back into the couch, tucked herself against his side. And waited.
“Smell good,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He pressed his face into her hair, adjusting to pull her closer with a sigh.
That was when his hand found her back. It paused. Hesitated. Slid slowly, carefully, down her spine. Then lower, following the curve of her hip, the line of her thigh.
He swallowed hard. “Sweetheart?”
“Yes, Hunter?”
“You have no clothes on.”
“Not even a teeny, tiny scrap.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re, um, you’re aware of it, then.”
“No. I dream-walked through a full skincare routine and crawled back in bed naked.” She chuckled. “Of course I'm aware.”
That got him. He cracked his eyes open and looked at her like she was both miracle and mischief. His expression shifted, slowly, into something far more serious. “How are you?”
She met his gaze without a second thought.
“Good enough to know I’m not doing this to chase something away, but because I really want you.
” She paused, her fingers brushed his chest, just over where his heart beat.
“And because I want to celebrate the beginning of whatever this part of my life is going to be.”
Then her hand slid lower, down over his stomach. Over the front of his jeans. He was so hard it made her mouth water, but it was the restraint, the sharp breath he tried to swallow, that pressed warm and deep against her heart. He didn’t simply roll into her but held still.
“Be happy with me,” she whispered in his ear.
She stretched over him, making sure to rub thoroughly and in all the right places as she straddled him, laying her body flush to his and capturing his mouth in a kiss.
God, his mouth tasted like filthy promises and warm sanctuary, like he wanted to fuck her and keep her in the same breath. The way her body melted into that made her ache in places she thought were long dead.
She ran the tip of her tongue along his upper lip and felt him tense.
His hands gripped her hips, then slid to cup her ass.
His tongue touched hers, slow at first, then deeper as their mouths fused and their breaths turned into panting.
“Your taste is addictive,” she murmured.
Then paused. “You don’t have morning breath. ”
“In a way,” he said, his voice low as sin. One of his hands drifted back down, brushing over her pussy with just the tip of his fingers. She gasped, moaned, and struggled to keep up with what he was saying. “I take care of it with a thought.”
“Convenient,” she managed. “Can you get rid of the clothes just as fast?”
Not even a blink, and beneath her, there was nothing but warm, smooth skin.
“Oh, this is very convenient,” she whispered, rubbing her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.
He pushed up and flipped them with ease, covering her completely with his body. And as glorious as it was, something in it didn’t sit right.
She tapped him, just enough to prod. He moved instantly, pulling back without hesitation.
She rose onto her knees, sitting back on her heels to look at him.
His eyes glowed with something terrifyingly hungry, his chest rose in quick, shallow breaths.
His jaw clenched. And yet, what he said was, “We can take it as slow as you want.”
She stared at him for a long, quiet beat.
He thought she was hesitating. That she was changing her mind.
And he was ready to stop, to pull away completely, even after she’d snuck into his arms, completely naked, and started this.
And if that wasn’t some dangerous shit to fall for, she didn’t know what was.
So she reached for his face, cupped it in both hands, and kissed him.
Soft and slow. A kiss that tasted like purpose, like this alone was indeed enough.
He groaned, wrapping her into his arms as his tongue swept over hers.
It made her light-headed; it loosened her spine and lit her nerves on fire.
Until she felt his cock straining hard against her belly, and that snapped her right back into the present.
“You’re so beautiful,” she said, lips brushing his.
“I want to look at you. Taste you. And see you go insane with wanting me back.”
One blond eyebrow rose. His mouth twisted into a savage, breathtaking smile. “Cruel and greedy,” he murmured. “Just when I thought you couldn’t be more perfect.”
“I do what I can,” she said. “Now, lie back and let me play.”
And play she did.
She started by kissing his mouth again, slow and indulgent, before sliding down along the thick cords of his neck.
She bit her bottom lip to keep from diving straight onto his dick.
Instead, she spread her hand over his chest, over his hard and warm pecs, solid muscles that made her fingertips linger.
She kissed one, then the other, before flicking her tongue over a nipple and biting it gently, making him groan from deep in his chest. The sound vibrated straight through to her pussy.
She followed the trail of muscle down his abdomen, kissing and licking each ridge of his abs, savoring the map of his perfect body, triumphant when she felt him shudder under her mouth.
And when finally there was nothing left to taste but his cock, she paused.
It was just as majestic as the rest of him–thick, long, already wet at the tip, hard and ready.
She ran her tongue from base to tip, then back again, slow and filthy with want.
Bit at him softly with her lips, shallow and teasing.
She needed to feel him in every possible way.
The warmth, the smoothness, the pressure coiled beneath the surface.
The salt of his skin. The way he throbbed against her tongue.
She licked him again and again while her hand played with his balls, rolling them gently, just to hear the way his breath stuttered.
Her fingers grazed the line from his balls to the place just shy of his hole, and he swore under his breath, his hand fisted in her hair as his voice broke, strangled and rough.
“I don’t know if I should thank you for this torture or make you pay for it. Possibly both.”
“And I’d be okay with either,” she said, right before taking him deep into her mouth.
As deep as she could. She sucked him slowly, her tongue working, her jaw aching, and when he hissed, when his grip on her hair tightened, it filled her with something hot and wild.
The power of it. The knowledge that he could break her in half if he wanted, but instead, he was unraveling under her mouth like she was the one holding all the power.
It was intoxicating.
He tensed with a guttural growl and came. Warm and salty, thick against her tongue. She took it all in. All of him. She let herself have it and sighed in quiet satisfaction.
His breathing slowed, and he reached for her hand, tugging her up beside him to kiss her.
“There’s fresh coffee,” she said, lips brushing his. She glanced at his face, at his messy hair, at the smug satisfaction that made him look fucked-out and entirely hers. “And I have muffins.”
“You’re elite, Daphne. I mean it.” He looked at her like she’d handed him the key to a long-lost kingdom, but then sobered up fast. “But I couldn’t, in good conscience, let you go without being sure you’re just as satisfied. What kind of demon would I be?”
“A bad one?”
“The worst.”
He moved like a big cat over her, caging her beneath his body.
Not what she usually liked. Being caged didn’t suit her.
Control was to Daphne what first editions were to collectors.
Too important to give up. Aggressive. Domineering.
Those were just a few of the complaints ex-lovers had implied, or shouted, over the years.
And honestly? They weren’t wrong. But that also wasn’t her problem.
She was who she was, and she had damn good reasons for it.