Chapter 19
LOCHLAN
I wake up with her hair in my face and her leg thrown over mine. It feels… right.
Inevitable.
For a second, I don't move. I just lie still, a smile on my face, careful not to disturb her. I don’t want her to shift away from me. I’m not ready to let go of whatever brought us here, and a small part of me is afraid she might be okay with letting go once her eyes open.
Her breaths are light and warm against my chest. She's still asleep. Actually asleep. Not the tense, ready-to-bolt sleep I've seen from her before. This is different. It’s relaxed. Trusting.
I'm so fucked.
The morning light cuts through the blinds. I should get up. I've got a session at the gym with Cillian and Gavin in a couple hours.
But when she makes a small sound in her sleep and burrows closer, I decide the world can wait.
I don't know how long I lie here. It’s long enough that Reaper gets impatient and huffs from his spot by the door. Long enough that my arm goes numb under her head and I couldn’t care less.
Instead, I use the time to replay what ignited between us last night… the way she looked, the way she felt, the way she tasted. My cock jumps at the salacious memories of her fully giving herself to me, of becoming so vulnerable when I know how much she hates any loss of control.
Eventually, she stirs and blinks up at me with those dark eyes, still cloudy with sleep. I watch her brain boot up in real time, the flicker of confusion in those chocolate brown pools. A dark pink flush creeps up the sides of her neck when the realization bubbles up in her consciousness.
“Morning,” I say before she can overthink it.
“Morning.” Her voice is raspy. Sexy as hell.
Shockingly, she doesn't pull away. That feels like a win.
“How'd you sleep?” I ask.
“Like the dead.” She stretches against me, her body warm and soft. “I never sleep like that.”
“Must be the company.”
Her lips quirk. “Or the exhaustion from the hellish week I had.”
“Ouch. So I had nothing to do with it? I’d have liked to exhaust you like that.”
The grin stretches across her face. “I think your ego will survive.”
“Barely.” I brush the hair out of her face. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Neither of us moves. We just stare at each other, almost holding our breath to avoid cracking the moment open. She absently traces a pattern on my chest, like she doesn't realize she's doing it.
“So, last night,” she starts to say.
And here it comes. The morning-after conversation. The one where she rebuilds all the walls I spent weeks trying to break down.
“Was incredible,” I say. “Yeah. I know.”
She bites down on her lower lip. “I was going to say intense.”
I wink at her. “That, too.”
“And unexpected.”
“Was it?” I run my hand down her bare arm and she shivers against me. “Because I've been thinking about it since we met.”
Her cheeks flood with red. “You have not.”
“Yeah. I have. You can ask Cillian. He's been giving me shit about it for weeks.”
“Your brother knows you've been thinking about sleeping with me?”
“He could figure it out. We’re pretty close, you know, other than Ronan.” I roll my eyes. “They know me well. It's annoying as hell.” I pause. “They're going to be insufferable when I see them today.”
“Oh, you’re meeting up with them?”
“Yeah, at the MMA gym in a couple hours.” I pull her closer. “That leaves us plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time for what?” she asks in a coy voice.
I don’t answer with words. Instead, I pull her on top of me, capturing her lips with mine. It’s not rushed or urgent. It’s slow and lazy, unlike last night when hunger and need commanded my every movement.
She melts into it, her tits rubbing against my chest. Her fingers slide into my hair, her legs locking me in.
My cock springs to life, the head bobbing against her wet slit.
She makes that sound again, the one that drives me fucking mad, and I roll her onto her back before sliding into her wet heat.
Her pussy clenches around me, her velvety walls pulling me deep. Our tongues dance, hot and hungry as our bodies rock against each other like they were made to connect. She lifts a leg and wraps it around my waist as she thrusts her hips up toward me.
“Deeper,” she moans.
Oh, fuck yeah. She hugs me tight, unwilling to loosen her grip even for a second.
My heart thrashes in my chest as I fuck her with long, hard strokes, each one making her cry out until she stills, pressing her hands into my back.
“Oh my God.” A gasp catches in her throat, tremors assaulting her body. “Stay.Right.There.”
Her scream pierces the air. “So good. So fucking good!” Her fingernails dig into my spine, raking over my skin as my own orgasm rumbles in my groin.
“That’s my girl. Come for me,” I growl. “I need to feel you all over my cock.” I stay seated inside of her, thrusting against her spot until a rush of her juices blankets me. Her cries are the sweetest fucking music I’ve ever heard. I never want them to stop.
My balls tighten, aching for release, and I’m about to let go when Reaper’s sharp bark pierces the air.
Fucking A. Is he serious right now?
We break apart and I glare at the doorway. He stares me down, tail wagging, clearly not done with being ignored.
“Your dog has terrible timing,” she says, letting out a breathless giggle.
God, I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
“He’s a total cockblocker,” I say. “No treats for you, Reaper.”
He lets out a howl. I guess I’m eating breakfast with blue balls.
“I’d better take him out,” I say. “Then I'll make coffee. You stay here until you feel like getting up.”
She draws a circle on my shoulder. “I might never get up. I might stay here forever.”
“I’d honestly love that,” I say.
Dots of pink pop into her cheeks but she doesn’t respond.
I smile and drop a kiss onto her forehead.
She doesn’t need to. I think she believes it.
I walk out of the bedroom, start the coffee, and take Reaper outside to give him a quick walk. By the time we get back upstairs, the rich scent fills the air. Reaper follows me into the kitchen, sniffing around for breakfast. I ruffle his ears, head to the refrigerator, and pull out eggs and bacon.
I have the frying pan sizzling within minutes, then pour coffee into two mugs.
When she finally walks into the kitchen, she's wearing my t-shirt. Just my t-shirt. It hits her mid-thigh, and I have to look away before I say “fuck it” to breakfast and carry her back to the bedroom for the kind of sustenance I’d prefer.
“That smells amazing,” she says, sliding onto a stool at the island. “You’re talented with an egg, you know that?”
“It's a gateway meal. Eggs lead to omelets. Omelets lead to frittatas. Before you know it, you're making beef Wellington.”
“Have you ever made beef Wellington?”
“No,” I wink at her. “But I could if I wanted to.”
She shakes her head, smiling into her coffee before she takes a sip. Reaper plops himself down next to her stool and my heart jumps when she leans down to nuzzle his neck.
Looks like progress on all fronts.
We eat breakfast together and talk about nothing important. She tells me about a client who's been driving her crazy. I tell her about Gavin's latest disaster. Apparently, he got into a bar fight yesterday and has a black eye to prove it.
It's easy and the kind of morning I never thought I'd have with anyone, let alone a woman I was forced to marry a few weeks ago.
“I should shower,” she says finally. “And you should go to your gym thing before your brothers think you've been murdered.”
“They'd never think that. They'd assume I was having too much fun to leave.”
She tilts her head. “And would they be right?”
I look at her... messy bun, no makeup, wearing my t-shirt while my dog cuddles against her leg.
“Yeah,” I say, walking toward her. “They'd be right.”
I snake an arm around her waist and lift her into my arms. “Now how about that shower?”
The MMA gym is a converted warehouse in Dorchester. It doesn’t have any fancy equipment, and there’s no smoothie bar. It’s just mats, bags, a cage, and guys who know how to hurt each other.
Cillian's already warming up when I walk in. Gavin's sprawled on a bench, scrolling through his phone, a fresh bruise glaring at me from his cheekbone.
“There he is.” Cillian grins, bouncing on his toes. “The newlywed.”
“Don't start.”
“Too late. I started hours ago when you didn't answer any texts.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You look different.”
“Yeah, because I actually got some sleep,” I say.
“Uh-huh.” He exchanges a look with Gavin, who sits up straight and drops his phone onto the bench.
“You slept,” Gavin says, grinning through his busted lip. “At your apartment. With your wife. Whom you've been making heart-eyes at for weeks.”
“I don't make heart-eyes. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Bro, you absolutely make heart-eyes. It's fucking embarrassing.” Gavin waggles his eyebrows. “You fucked your hot wife, didn’t you? That’s why you’re so late.”
“We're not discussing this,” I say, dropping my bag on the floor.
“Oh, the fuck we aren’t,” Cillian says. “I totally called it, by the way. It was only a matter of time.”
“You didn't call anything. I haven’t even seen you since we met at the bar a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yep, that’s when I called it. Right after you said that you’d been cyber-stalking her. Ask G. I said, ‘They're gonna hook up before the month is out.’ And here we fucking are."
“Get in the cage,” I say. “I'm going to pound your fucking ass.”
“Worth it.” Cillian's grin is blinding. “So are we getting details? How was it? Is she as intense in bed as she is in a boardroom?” He chuckles. “You know, allegedly.”
I throw a roll of hand wrap at his head. He ducks, laughing.
“Okay, okay.” Gavin holds up his hands. “Leave him alone, C. He's clearly pussy-whipped. Let him have his moment.”
“I’m not,” I grunt, grabbing the hand wraps.
“Bullshit. You should see your face. It’s like you just won the lottery. The sex lottery.” Gavin snickers.