Page 29 of Last Shot at Love

Was I ready for that to happen?

Somehow, when I’d thought of it as a business agreement, the thought of sex to seal the mate bond hadn’t seemed like a big deal. I knew how to make it pleasurable for a man, and if I was lucky, my partner would make it nice for me, too.

Sex was just sex.

No emotions, no strings.

But somehow, this was different.

This time, it mattered—or at least, I wanted it to matter.

For the first time in my life, it wouldn’t be ‘just sex.’

Still struggling with my inner turmoil, I slowly undid the ties of my bikini top. Then I untied the strings on either side of my hips that held up my bottoms. Taking a deep breath, I dropped them to the floor.

Not giving me time to overthink things any further, Cer’s arm hooked around my waist and pulled me beneath the covers.

I yelped in surprise, earning me a deep laugh from the shifter.

He didn’t stop pulling until my back was pressed tight against his chest. I was considered a tall woman, but Cerulean was far bigger and easily tucked my body into the safety of his arms.

He rubbed his face against my hair before placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. “Goodnight, Beryl.”

Goodnight?

Shut the fraggle-rockin-front-door!

What did he mean by goodnight? Why wasn’t he pushing to mate?

I’d seen the rigid evidence of his arousal when he’d sat me on the bed. But now he was going to—what was this called? I tried to remember the word, but I hadn’t had time to read or watch television for several years and couldn’t recall.

“What is this called, Cer? What you’re—we’re—doing?”

“Do you mean snuggling? Well, more accurately, we’re spooning.”

“Spooning?” That was a word I hadn’t heard.

“I’m the big spoon, and you’re the little spoon.” He chuckled, his warm breath stirring my hair and causing it to tickle my cheek.

I snorted, tucking the offending hair behind my ear. “I think you just made that up! What would it mean, and why are we spoons?”

Cerulean was quiet for a long minute. “It means we fit together.”

Oh. It did make sense in an oddly sweet kind of way.

“Now stop over-analyzing everything and go to sleep.” His playful growl sent a fresh group of butterflies taking flight in my stomach.

I didn’t do sleepovers with sexual partners, which made this the first night I’d ever slept in a man’s arms.

And not just any man, but the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on.

A man who, on paper, was technically my husband.

It turns out I’ve never slept better.

I awoke to the sound of gently lapping waves, exotic birds calling happily to each other, and Cerulean’s steady breathing.

We’d shifted positions during the night, and blinking open my eyes, I found I was facing him. He’d tossed his leg over mine, and his arm was resting across my lower back.

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