Page 122 of Beautiful Broken Love

At that, I busted out laughing.

He cracked a smile. “I’m walking up to the building now, but I’ll call you when I get a free moment, ’kay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, D.”

“I love you, too, Bishop.”

SIXTY-FIVE

DAVINA

The morning of Thanksgiving, I woke up in a hotel bed with my boyfriend. It was nearing seven in the morning, and he was still asleep.

We’d taken a private jet Deke had booked, and I swear it was the most luxurious experience of my life. The leather seats were plush and comfortable, the champagne was aplenty, and we talked about the game he’d just had the day before. He was bone tired but still smiling.

I sat up on my elbow and stared at him. He looked childlike lying there, with his features soft and one hand on his heart. The other was tucked beneath his pillow.

I didn’t want to wake him, so I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I walked back out, Deke’s back was perched against the headboard as he looked at me.

“Did I wake you?” I asked, climbing back into bed.

“No. Phone was vibrating. Camille called, asked me to bring drinks.”

He flipped onto his side to face me, then wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in close so the fronts of our bodies were pressed together. I could feel his semihard erection, and as if he knew I’d feel it, he grinned.

I cupped his face and kissed him. He groaned, kissing me back, and before I knew it, he was between my legs and grinding himself on me. I let out a ragged breath as he kissed my throat and carried his lips down to my pelvis.

“Is it wrong to have an appetizer before a Thanksgiving dinner?” he asked between my legs.

I laughed. “I don’t know. Is it?”

He smiled up at me, pushing my T-shirt up and revealing my panties. I lifted my hips so he could take them off, and he buried his face between my thighs, groaning as he pushed one of them up to my chest.

I ran my fingers over the coarse waves of his hair, arching my back as I closed my eyes.

“I love how you taste, Davina,” he breathed. He slid his tongue into me, teasing before gliding it back up to the tenderest spot.

I was getting worked up, breathing harder, faster, and just when I felt like I was about to reach my peak, Deke took his mouth away and sat up to center himself between my thighs.

He shoved his boxers down and freed himself. The man was massive. I still had moments where I wondered how he could fit the whole thing inside me.

“Wanna make love to you,” he mumbled, placing his elbow outside my head. He pushed into me at a deliberate pace, watching my lips part and my eyes glaze over. His mouth came to mine, and he swallowed my moan, stroking while kissing me. With a groan, he tore his mouth away to look into my eyes.

“You love me?” he asked, voice raspy.

I nodded, clinging to him as he rocked into me. “Yes, I love you.”

“Good. ’Cause I love the hell out of you.”

He stole my lips again, thrusting faster. When he slammed into me and stilled, his dick felt twice as hard. It was the stillness of it, the feeling of him pulsing so hard and deep, that sent me over the edge. I threw my head back and clutched the sheets, crying out his name.

Seconds later, he hauled himself out and came too. When he met my eyes again, he huffed a laugh.

“Damn,” he sighed.

“What?” I asked.

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