Page 163 of Never Let You Go

Because god knows, when I make love to her, she’s all mine, and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

That night, I slide into her bedroom like a thief. It’s been unusually hot all day, and her window is open, letting some fresh air cool her skin. She’s splayed naked on her bed, sheets pushed aside, her hair fanned around her beautiful face.

I cup her cheeks and whisper, “I love you.”

I’ve never said I love you to a woman.

It’s fucking scary. Because I really mean it. I love her. And I want to show her my love every day of my life.

Shower her in gifts and kisses.

Take all her scars and all her secrets and make them mine.

Name my bakery after her.

Build a house up in the mountain for us.

Grow a garden for her and Skye.

Have a child with her.

“I love you,” I say again, and she stirs. I blow on her skin, from her breastbone to between her legs, and back up. Then I trail my tongue down the same path and stay down at her middle, parting her folds. Her fingers find my head, and I feel her clit swell to life.

I stand to kick my boxer shorts off and meet her hooded gaze. She lowers her eyes to my erection, while her hands trail down between her legs.

I growl and lower myself to her, needing to take her.

Needing to make her mine.

I clasp her wrists and move her hands above her head, then claim her mouth with mine. Her tongue welcomes me, takes me in, while she writhes her soft body against me. Her breasts push up against my chest, and sweat clings our skins together. The musky scent of our bodies fills the air. I move my mouth away from hers to take in her beauty before I lose myself in her. Moonlight gives her skin an eerie glow, as if this were a dream.

In some ways, it is.

“Take me, now. Please,” she says.

Her begging almost sends me over the edge, and I do what she says—I take her. She wraps her legs around my hips to pull me closer. “Harder,” she asks, her panting telling me she’s close already.

“I won’t last long if I go harder,” I warn her.

“Please,” she cries out, and I ram into her, knowing that her asking me to fuck her harder means she’s on the verge of orgasm.

And so am I.

As our bodies chase their collapse together, her sucking me in, I want to cry it out loud—I love you. Instead, I bury my face in her neck, wrap her hair in my hand, and swallow a sob.

I cannot let go of her.

I cannot lose her.

As soon as she comes undone under me, I let myself go, and we ride our orgasms together, clinging to each other, giving and taking, being one.

After her last tremor subsides, I slide onto the bed and wrap her in my arms. Despite the heat, she takes my favorite after-sex pose, nudged against me, her head on my shoulder, one leg wrapped across my body, her middle against my hip. My arm keeps her tight against me. I wait for her to fall asleep with her mouth open, her tiny snores like purrs lulling me to sleep as well.

But, this time, something feels different. She’s sticky.

“Shit!” I push her away from me, like that’s going to make any difference. “Fuck, Alexandra, I wasn’t wearing a condom. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking.” She smiles, her voice raspy. “That’s the whole point of l—sex, right?” She pulls me back around her. “I’m on the pill; don’t worry.”

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