Page 104 of Hot Shot

“Best day ever,” I echo, setting the pitcher down now that her hair is rinsed. When I sit back, so does she, leaning against my chest with a sigh.

“I’m glad you changed your mind,” I say for the hundredth time today.

“Me too. Sorry it took so long.”

“I’d wait forever for you, Cass.”

I don’t mean for it to sound so real, so deep. She turns around again, and it’s her turn to kiss me, her hands bracketing my face, lips soft and sweet and perfect.

When she breaks away, it’s to smile.

“Take me to bed,” she says.

I kiss her nose and move to stand, reaching for a big, fluffy towel as she pulls the plug on the tub. “Told you I can’t say no to you.” I open it up, and when she stands, I wrap her up in it, top of her head and all, with just her face sticking out.

“Better watch out or I might take advantage of you,” she says.

The sound I make is somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Take advantage of me, Cass. Pretty please, with a cherry.”

She giggles. I kiss her again, help her out. Dry off and slide into bed with her.

We fall asleep whispering in the dark, wrapped up in each other.

Right where I’ve wanted to be.

CHAPTER 39

ABOUT DAMN TIME

WILDER

Cass is snoring.

With every rise of her bare chest, the softest little snore exits her parted lips. Her hair is wild and flaming, a tangled mess from drying on its own, and her face is bare, copper lashes nearly brushing her cheeks. The snoring is due to her position, which is flat on her back and too far away from me. But I can’t bring myself to disturb her, too amused and reverent for anything but appreciation.

My gaze trails the line of her profile to her long, extended neck. The hollow beneath her throat is a strange fascination—the memory of it filled with milky come last night sends an electric jolt down my spine and up my cock.

The sensation of déjà vu slips over me as I watch her snore, her nipples soft and pink, rising and falling, rising and falling.

I’ve imagined her in my bed a hundred million times. I’ve imagined us married, sharing this home. When I bought it, I wondered if she’d like it. Would she hate the kitchen or wish thebathroom was bigger? I’ve imagined that we had a family, that we were happy, that she was mine.

And now here she is, naked and snoring and splayed in my bed with a tiny sliver of drool in the corner of her pretty mouth. My smile spreads at the same pace as my heart, my cock chasing after.

A circle closed, the two ends snapping together the second she changed her mind.

This time, I’m not letting her go.

She doesn’t move when I slide down the bed toward her, bringing my lips to the soft flesh of her stomach. Her snore hitches, but she doesn’t wake, and so I lay delicate kisses with smiling lips from her hip to the crease where it meets her thigh. I trace the juncture with my tongue, watching her rouse slowly. First with a hum, then a moan, then the sliver of her eyes blinking open and the flush rising in her cheeks.

She smiles, raking her hand through my hair as her eyes close again. Her thighs part for me in offering.

You’ll find me dead before I refuse.

I grab her far hip and pull just enough to tilt her toward me, skating my lips across her hood, watching her, listening to the gasps and hums and whimpers she gives me when I close my mouth over her clit and suck.

Feverish at the sound of her pleasure, I latch, rolling and spreading her legs so I can lay between them. Her body fascinates me in a way I’ve never experienced, not even when we were young and exploring each other so long ago. Maybe it’s the waiting. The hoping. The fear that I somehow wouldn’t have the chance to love her again. Maybe it’s that I hate that motherfucker who didn’t love her like she deserves. Like it’s my sole purpose in life to prove to her how wrong he was with every lick and suck and flick of my tongue.

I should thank him—if it wasn’t for him, she might not be here with me now.

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