Page 63 of The Luminosity of Loriana Harper

“Please, now.” He wasn’t above begging.

In response, her eyes closed and her breathing hitched.

As he felt her spasm around him, he let go as well—falling into the wonderful abyss.

In a bit, he tried to catch his breath as he gently rolled away from her. He’d love to stay wrapped in her arms forever, but his weight was likely crushing her. He pulled her with him and she came, a tangle of limbs.

“Condom.” He didn’t want to, but it needed to be taken care of.

She disentangled herself enough to let him roll the condom off and tie a knot. Reaching her trash can was a stretch, but he managed. Then he yanked the covers back over them and pulled her close. He appreciated that she kept a cooler house. He’d had enough heat to last him a lifetime down in California.

“That was…” She swallowed.

“Yeah.” The only coherent response he could manage.

She laid her head upon his chest, her chin resting on his sternum.

He propped his head up with a pillow so he could stare back.

“Stay the night?”

Her question caught him off-guard. It wasn’t something he did often. Yet, in this moment, the answer seemed obvious. “Of course.”

“Great.” She snuggled up against him. “Now, sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She placed her hand on his abdomen and nestled into his side.

His eyes drifted shut, and he was almost asleep when the most unexpected and hair-raising sound came from just beyond the door. He sat bolt upright.

Loriana snickered. She slid from bed and padded—naked—over to the bedroom door. She opened it, and a flash of fur darted in.

Moments later, Plato landed on the bed. He eyed Mitch warily.

Hold steady.

He was the human. Showing weakness was likely to only lead to bad things.

After an interminable amount of time, Plato broke their stare.

Ha.

Loriana slid back into bed. “Lie down. He’ll figure it out.”

Mitch wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant. So he scooted back down and drew Loriana to his side as she dragged the covers back over them.

She curled into his side—much as she had before—and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

Plato crawled up her blanket-covered legs and plopped onto her hip.

Mitch would’ve sworn she grunted. But she was already drifting back to sleep. He envied her—being able to drop into sleep so easily.

La-la-land was much slower in coming for him, and when he cracked an eye open, sunlight streamed into the room through a slit in the drapes.

He sat bolt upright, tossing Plato right off his chest where, apparently, the cat’d been contentedly napping.

Plato shot a nasty look over his shoulder and headed out of the room—undoubtedly in search of food.

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