Page 67 of Coach
Only then did he lift up, move away.
My body was too spent to move, so it was just my head tracking the movement as he stood beside the bed, yanking his pants back on, then silently walking out the door.
My heart seized, some part of me terrified that the moment was gone. But he came back just a moment later, sliding into the bed with me.
His arm slid under me, curling me until I was resting on his chest.
His heartbeat had recovered, becoming a steady, comforting metronome against my ear as my finger traced over his chest in the dark.
Saul’s hands were just as needy.
He traced down my spine, the curve of my hip, the swell of my ass, then back up again until his fingers were sifting through my hair, then massaging my scalp.
We didn’t say anything.
We didn’t need to.
I expected the thoughts to creep and rush back in, asking questions I had no answers to. About what happened now. About what we were, where this was going, if he was just seeking fun, if I was.
But they never came.
My mind was beautifully, blissfully, peacefully blank.
And building deep inside me was an impossible sort of knowing.
That it would all be okay.
That there was nothing to worry about here.
With him.
And it was to those thoughts that I finally, finally drifted off to a long, deep sleep.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Coach
Este slept long and deep, her body so relaxed that I barely disturbed her when I slipped out from underneath her in the early morning hours when Trix finally had enough waiting.
She’d been restless for the past hour, grumbling, rolling around, watching Este for any signs of life.
Until, finally, she got off her bed to pace and whimper.
“You gotta go out?” I asked, my voice low, as I looked for her leash. I hooked it on. “Let’s let Mom sleep, okay?” I asked her as she looked back to the bed, uncertain. “Gotta go outside, girl,” I reminded her.
Luckily, she agreed, going with me down the steps and out the back door.
She dragged me around the grounds, sniffing hard at the chicken coop, her ears pricking when she heard clucking inside.
When she finally seemed to tire herself out enough, we went back inside, where I fed her a breakfast of leftover hamburger that she ate greedily, not even caring that the club was waking up around her, the men stumbling into the kitchen in search of coffee.
“Morning,” Saint said, wide awake, still on prison time.
“Morning,” I said, pulling Trix a little closer as Rafe and Steve made their way downstairs.
“I fed the cat. And snipped those fucking talons of his.”
“And you’re not all bloodied?” I asked, impressed.
