Текст книги "King of Hearts"

Автор книги: L. H. Cosway

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

The second the words left my mouth, his hands flew to the waistband of my trousers, undoing the fly and venturing inside. His fingers slid beneath the elastic of my underwear, and then he was feeling me, his touch warm and probing. We both trembled. He fingered my slit, then sank further, exploring my folds, and I felt my entire body spasm at the contact. I was soaking wet already, and when he found my opening and drove inside, I had to bury my face in his shoulder and bite down to keep from screaming. All at once he was filling up years of emptiness, and it was too much.

My body went limp, but his strength held me up. He moved his fingers slowly, fucking in and out as his eyes sparkled, soaking in my reaction. My nipples grew hard, rubbing almost painfully against the fabric of my bra. King continued to finger me, his thumb coming up to rub circles into my clit. I undulated beneath him, letting out a sigh that he captured with his mouth. There was no gentleness in his kiss. It was hard and demanding, his tongue moving in unison with mine, sending my every nerve ending into a tailspin. I was completely open to him as he explored.

“You feel incredible,” he gasped, breaking our kiss for a split second before his lips were back on me. His thumb circled my clit one more time and I came in an instant, shivering and shaking against him. He let out a low groan as he kissed me, and it vibrated through me as the waves of my orgasm crashed over me like a tsunami. His kiss grew gentler, until he was nibbling at the edges of my lips, allowing me to enjoy the after effects. I was vaguely aware of my embarrassment, since I’d just been victim to the female equivalent of premature ejaculation. King didn’t even seem to be aware of how quickly I’d come, though, so I didn’t dwell on it. I met his kisses, exploring his jaw and then his neck. He groaned when I licked at his earlobe, just like he’d done to me.

My hand had just started to move along his stomach in the direction of his crotch when a voice called from downstairs.

“Something’s beeping, Mummy!”

My hand paused its exploration as I dropped my head to his chest and sighed.

Twenty-Two

 

I became aware of several things at once. One, my son was downstairs – our son was downstairs. Two, I’d just let King finger-fuck me to within an inch of my life, and I wanted to take things further. Three, I didn’t have time right then to take things further (sad face.) And four, I really did need to check on dinner.

I drew away from King, voice breathy. “I should go down.”

“Yeah,” he said, a little breathless himself.

I was aware of him going inside the bathroom to wash his hands instead of following after me. In the kitchen, I busied myself by turning off the oven and checking to make sure the roast was cooked through. I knew it was since the timer had gone off, which accounted for the beeping. Still, I checked it all the same, mostly to keep from thinking about what had just happened. It was weird, because I certainly hadn’t forced his hand down my pants, but I had this ridiculous notion that I was taking advantage of him. I wasn’t, of course. I’d never do that, but it was just how I felt. Probably because he was still in a state of recovery.

When King came downstairs a minute later, he went inside the living room to Oliver. I listened to them talk as I dished up the food, smiling at my son’s never-ending questions and King’s bemusement at the random small talk. I could tell he was completely besotted, though, and it made my heart soar.

After a couple of minutes, King came in and silently began setting the table. I cast him a look of thanks, and we worked together quietly for a couple of minutes. Once everything was ready, I called Oliver in, stuffing a napkin into his collar because he was a messy eater. All the while I was aware of King watching my every move, like how I cut Oliver’s meat into small pieces, or how I reached over and dabbed some apple sauce from his mouth at one point.

Every once in a while I’d look up from my food and catch his eyes on me. His attention made me flush, because it was obvious that he was thinking about what had just happened between us in my room. When we were finished eating, King insisted on doing the dishes, so I brought Oliver upstairs for his bath. By the time I had him in his pyjamas and ready for bed, the kitchen was spic and span.

I’d just walked in when King was drying his hands with a tea towel. Stepping forward, I went up on my tiptoes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks,” I whispered. It was nice to have someone else do the dishes for a change.

“No problem.”

“I was going to read Oliver a bedtime story. Do you want to come sit?”

A thoughtful look crossed his face before he cleared his throat and asked, “Would you mind if I did it? Read him the story, that is?”

I studied him, surprised by the request. “Of course not. I’ll tell you what – I wanted to take a bath myself, so how about I do that and you read to him?”

King’s answering smile took my breath away. “That sounds like a plan.”

I tried not to be disgruntled when Oliver acted pleased as punch to discover King was going to read him his story. If it didn’t make me so happy, I might have been jealous by how quickly they’d taken to each other. But then again, they were father and son. It was only natural for them to have a connection. The thought suddenly made me get a little weepy (happy tears, of course), so I quickly went to run my bath. Didn’t want King seeing me acting like a hormonal mess.

His voice trickled in from down the hall as I settled into the warm water. It made me ache for his touch and to have him whisper naughty things in my ear. I had a sudden urge to touch myself, but I resisted. His voice just did strange things to me. I’d gotten out and dried myself off when I heard him close Oliver’s bedroom door and quietly step out into the hall. Quickly slipping into a robe, I opened the door and found him standing there, staring at the floor in consternation. When he looked up, he took in my appearance slowly, and my tummy did a little flip-flop.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Is he asleep?”

King seemed to be trying to muddle through a maze of his own feelings as he nodded and answered, “Yeah, he’s sleeping.”

He looked like he needed a hug, so I went to him and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close. His arms went to my middle, his fingers innocently brushing against the curve of my bottom. We hugged for a long time, soaking up each other’s warmth and breathing one another in. Then suddenly he was backing me into my bedroom, and I didn’t stop him. We were already inside when he asked, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“I don’t want to leave yet,” he said, nose in my wet hair.

“I don’t want you to leave yet, either.” And it was true, not only because I savoured his presence, but also because my little urges in the bath hadn’t yet dissipated. I swear, just hearing him speak could probably get me off. He looked down at me then, and he must have read something in my face, because his eyes turned heated. His arms fell away from me as he seemed to consider something. Then, with a gravelly voice, he gestured to the bed and ordered me, “Lie down.”

Whoa. That was unexpected. The authoritative tone he used got my blood up. Swallowing thickly, I took three steps backward until my legs hit the bed. I lowered myself onto the mattress until I was flat on my back, chest rising and falling heavily, and waited for what came next. King’s eyes darkened as he sat on a chair and rubbed at his chin. I loved how his gaze traced me, eating up every detail.

“Undo your robe.” Unlike his first order, this time I heard a slight tremor in his voice. Was he nervous?

I never took my eyes off him as my hands fell to the tie and followed his command. Slowly, I brushed either side apart until my nudity was bared to him. He hissed in a breath and sat forward, elbows on his knees. His eyes were levelled on my breasts and my nipples, which were hardened into tight peaks. Then they moved lower.

His voice was thick when he spoke. “Lift your knees up and open your legs.” On the surface his words were crude, but it was the way he said them that held tenderness. Inside my chest, my heart was pounding with excitement. I loved this, loved how he was telling me what to do. Once I’d done as he’d asked, King let out an audible groan before muttering, “Jesus, you’re wet.”

He was right, I was. I was also aching, pulsing with a deep need for him to come and give me some relief. His next words, so tender and warm, made me moan.

“Touch yourself for me, love.”

Instinctively, I allowed my hand to run down my chest, caressing my breasts and pinching my nipples. I could hear King’s breathing fill the room, and when I looked at him, his hands were balled into fists. He must have been using all his willpower to keep from touching me, and I felt exhilarated. Slowly, I ran my hand down my stomach and between my thighs. My body shuddered when I brought my fingers to my sex and rubbed, my clit a tight bundle of need.

“Fuck,” King swore, and I shuddered, rubbing my wetness up and down my folds before circling my clit gently. I met his eyes, silently communicating that this was for him. His nostrils flared, his gaze on fire, and he was leaning forward so much he was about to fall off the chair. I would have found it funny if I weren’t so turned on.

“Put your fingers inside yourself,” he said gruffly, and I moaned again. I tried not to be too loud, since Oliver was sleeping just down the hall, but it was hard. King’s penis was a stiff length, outlined sharply against the crotch of his jeans. I stared at him, imagining it inside me, as my fingers slid in, filling me up. My hips rose off the bed as I moved them in and out. My eyes locked with King’s, and I never looked away, never stopped fingering myself as he devoured me with his gaze. Then I pulled them out and caressed myself up and down before rubbing at my clit again. My skin was hot and feverish, and my stomach was tight with the need to come.

“Let go for me,” King urged me, and I increased my speed, my little pants and moans loud in my ears. I was so wet it was almost embarrassing, because he hadn’t so much as touched me yet. Feeling the pleasure rush forward all at once, I gave my clit one final, hard rub, and my vision went blurry for a second. I orgasmed with a sharp cry.

I was rubbing out the waves when suddenly King loomed over me, his intentions clear on his face. He wanted to make love. The tender look in his eyes made me feel truly cherished. He was pulling his T-shirt off over his head as I scrambled for my bedside dresser to grab a condom. I’d bought a packet only days ago, in the hopes that maybe something would happen between us. Never in a million years did I think it would be like this, mind-blowingly kinky and earth-shatteringly hot – yet so emotional.

His shirt was off first, and as he focused on his pants, I took in the contours of his body. He was thicker than he used to be, still muscled but not as defined, yet somehow it was sexier for its lack of contrivance. In fact, in that moment he was the most arousing thing I’d ever seen. I shivered as I watched him. There were a couple of scars on his arms and one on his chest. I knew he probably didn’t remember where they’d come from, collected over the years he’d lost to his addiction. Life on the streets wasn’t easy. It was hard and brutal, and I was certain he’d found himself in fights on more than one occasion.

Anyhow, it wasn’t like my body hadn’t changed. I had old stretch marks and had gained a few extra pounds. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just human. King’s eyes practically glowed, and I knew I was just as sexy to him as he was to me. It wasn’t so much about the shell but about the soul contained within.

When his pants were gone, I brought the condom to my mouth in an effort to seductively tear it open with my teeth. The foil wouldn’t rip, though, and we both shared a laugh at my epic fail. King placed a hand on my cheek, and murmured, “Christ, I love you.”

His words made me gasp and I stared at him in disbelief, the packet falling inelegantly from my mouth. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t believe him. I guess I’d just spent so long wishing to have him back that it was hard to believe it had become a reality. Anyhow, my disbelief didn’t last long, because even if my brain was hesitant, my heart knew he meant what he’d said.

He chuckled and bent down to nip at my chin as he took the condom from where it had landed on my chest. Clearly, I couldn’t be trusted with it.

“No need to look so shocked, darling,” he told me gently. “I never stopped loving you, not even in my darkest hour.”

“I’m not shocked,” I said, choking up. “I’m just trying to…absorb. I never stopped loving you, either.”

The smile he gave me in response made my chest ache. I watched as he tore open the condom with far more finesse than I could’ve mustered before rolling it down his hard length. I swallowed in anticipation as he brought his hands to my thighs and pulled them tightly around his hips. His erection brushed against me teasingly, and he bent to capture my lips with his. He kept his eyes open as he kissed me; it was both strange and captivating. I stared at him, fascinated by his every move. I loved the tension in his shoulders as he held himself up, and the strain of his biceps as he kept from entering me.

Then his hips began to move, slowly in and out, his cock nudging at my opening. I gripped his arms and moaned in frustration. He just barely slid inside before pulling out again and then finally drove himself in to the hilt with an almost feral growl. I cried out at the invasion, my body tight and out of practice. He felt amazing, so hot and slick. Not moving, he continued to kiss me, his tongue silky and wet, his eyelids fluttering closed from the pleasure. A shudder ran through him, but still he didn’t move. I loved the feel of him so deep inside me, filling up every inch. On instinct, I clenched around him, and his mouth fell from mine as he let out a quiet grunt.

“Jesus.”

“Oliver,” I breathed, a quiet plea.

“Just… just give me a minute.”

I lowered my mouth to his neck and sucked, causing him to shudder a second time. Then I ran my hands over his broad shoulders and down his spine until I reached his lower back. Pressing my fingers in gently, a silent urge for him to move, I looked up and found him staring down at me in fascination. His icy eyes danced in the lamp light, his mouth hanging open. I rose up a little and took his lower lip in my teeth, giving him a soft nip. He growled low in his throat, a sexy, playful sound.

“Make love to me,” I whispered.

It was a sweet relief when he finally moved his hips, pulling out, then driving back into me hard. I let out a breathy sigh, fingers digging harder into the base of his spine.

“I fucking love your body,” he whispered like a vow. “I’ll never leave you again. Never.”

His words fixed something in me, sealed up any lingering doubt. He was here to stay. And I’d never let him go.

And then he was driving into me fiercely, expelling years of hunger and loneliness. I knew the feeling. It was almost euphoric to finally have someone, to connect at the most base and human level. I ran my mouth over his jaw, tried to catch his lips in mine, but they evaded me as his body moved fast. His muscles were coiled tight, his breaths harsh. I wanted his kiss, dammit. Just as though he was attuned to my every need, he slowed his pace and gave me his mouth.

As we kissed, our lovemaking became slow and languid, but somehow more feverish. I felt every second, found myself shivering as I relished the push and pull and savoured every inch of him inside me. My pores beaded tight, my skin was hot and flushed, and a light layer of sweat coated my skin.

He lowered his face to my neck, still fucking me, and breathed in deep. There was an urgency to his movements, and I knew he was going to come soon.

“I love you,” I whispered in his ear. “Always.”

And then he grew still as he came, before falling hot and heavy onto my chest.

***

Something felt wonderful. I thought I might be dreaming, but there was this fluttering tightness in the pit of my stomach that set my heart thrumming, and I realised the feeling was all too real. I stirred a little in the bed, blinking open my eyes and looking down to find King’s head between my legs, his tongue lapping at me hungrily. I inhaled shakily at the sight, and the first sound I made was a low moan.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

“Not teasing you,” he said, his words recalling a memory of the first night we spent together in Rome, and how he’d woken me up by planting kisses along my thighs.

Before I could respond, his fingers were inside me, pumping fast as his tongue worked its magic on my clit. I had just enough energy to turn my head and check the time on my alarm clock. It was five-thirty in the morning, and therefore early enough that Oliver wouldn’t be awake yet. I could enjoy this. I let out a sigh of relief that mixed in with my moans.

King had thrown my legs over his shoulders to give him greater access, and I swear to God I could have died from the heavenly sensation of his lips and tongue.

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” I sighed.

He chuckled into my skin, the sound vibrating pleasantly through my body. Then he hummed low in his throat, a sound of sheer pleasure like he was truly enjoying himself. I relished the feeling of lazy arousal, of just having to lie there playing me like a piano. The thought caused an image of him with his instrument to flash in my mind, and then I was even more turned on. God, this man.

Sinking my fingers into his hair, I pulled his face in closer, his stubble scratching maddeningly at my thighs. He chuckled again, and I huffed out a breath.

“Shut it.”

He came up for air. “Tell the truth. This is why you wanted me to keep my hair long.”

I ground my jaw and replied breathily, “I said shut it.”

More chuckling, and then he was back at me, licking me until I was coming long and hard on his mouth. His hand stroked my stomach, trailing up my body and caressing my breasts, my nipples. I trembled from the after effects and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up to me.

“Come here,” I whispered, and wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close. His breathing was deep and relaxed, and I loved how chilled out going down on me made him. My thighs were around his waist, his delicious body heavy on top of mine. I stroked his hair, enjoying the silky feel, and felt him drift off back to sleep.

I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up, but I knew it had to be later than my usual hour. King and I had moved while we slept, and now he lay behind me, his big body encapsulating mine as we spooned. The duvet was pulled high, covering us completely, and it was a good thing, too…because I opened my eyes to find two curious blue ones staring back at me.

Oh, Jeez.

Oliver stood there in his PJs, an inquisitive look on his face as he held one of his teddy bears to his chest. He took in the sight of me and King in bed, but he didn’t seem upset by it. He only seemed curious. I might have felt ashamed if the man in my bed wasn’t his father and if I didn’t plan on spending the rest of my life with him.

“Oliver 2 is asleep,” he whispered, and pointed.

I gave him a tight smile, and honestly, I kind of felt like laughing. Hadn’t I learned by now that there was no privacy when you lived in a house with a five-year-old? I really should have thought to lock the door. Then again, if he’d woken up and found my door locked, he either would’ve gotten scared and started crying, or thrown a hissy fit until I let him inside.

Well, it wasn’t exactly perfect, but I guessed this was one way for him to find out that King and I were together.

“Why is he sleeping in your bed, Mummy?” Oliver asked, still wearing that curious expression. It was sort of adorable.

“Because he’s my…special friend,” I answered, immediately cringing at my choice of words. Seriously, I could’ve done better than pulling out the “special friend” card, but there just wasn’t a right way to explain this situation to a child. “Will you do something for me, baby? Will you go downstairs and grab Mummy’s handbag from the kitchen? The blue one?”

Oliver hopped to attention at my request, nodding and hurrying to complete the task. I sat up from the bed quickly and pulled on my robe before leaning over and shaking King’s shoulder. He blinked his eyes open, saw me hovering over him, and smiled lazily. He slid his arm around my waist to pull me closer, his hand dipping inside my robe to palm my breast. I gently pushed him off.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but Oliver just came in and found us sleeping together,” I said, not sure why I was still whispering. Everybody was awake now. King was too sleepy to interpret what I was saying at first, but when he realised, his eyebrows shot right up.

“Ah, hell,” he said, rising to sit and running a hand over his face.

“Yeah, you need to put some clothes on. He’ll be back in a second.”

“Okay,” he murmured, leaning close to press a kiss to my lips before going and pulling on his boxers, jeans, and T-shirt. I went about making the bed as he slid his belt through the hoops and fiddled with the buckle. There was something satisfied in his expression as he watched me, and I didn’t like it. Okay, that was wrong. I liked it a lot, but I didn’t like that I liked it. It said something to the tune of, Yeah, I made you come several times last night, no need to thank me. Real cocky, like. I had just enough time to narrow my eyes at him and suppress a smile before I heard little feet trundling back up the stairs.

“Here, Mummy, here’s your bag,” Oliver announced, holding up my handbag triumphantly.

I took it from him and placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Thank you, honey.”

King stepped forward and ruffled Oliver’s hair, the three of us standing together in a circle. I was momentarily hit with a pang of emotion to have them both so close. My two men. Our small family. King shot me a warm smile like he could read my exact thoughts.

“Come on, little man, let’s go downstairs and make breakfast. Give your mum a morning off.”

“Okay,” said Oliver, bobbing his head. He seemed to enjoy how King called him “little man,” like he was one of the grown-ups. He also seemed excited to have him there. It must have been because it was usually just the two of us, so having someone new around in the morning added an element of fun. I went and took a quick shower while the two of them chattered down in the kitchen. I had no idea what they were cooking, but they were making a hell of a lot of noise. When I heard King laugh, full and deep, it sent a pleasurable tremor right down my spine. It felt nice to have a man around, just doing normal man stuff, like making breakfast with our son and giving me orgasms.

Once out of the shower, I wrapped my hair in a towel and threw on a comfy navy dress with cream polka dots. Then, removing the towel, I twisted my damp hair into a knot and went downstairs to see what kind of havoc those two were wreaking on my kitchen.

Surprisingly, the place wasn’t too messy, and the heavenly smell of French toast filled the room. King stood by the cooker, holding a spatula. He’d placed Oliver on a stool so he could sit and watch. I went and peeked in one of the cupboards, grinning happily when I found we had maple syrup. King hadn’t even realised I’d come in, because he was too focused on cooking and talking to Oliver. The two of them were so cute together, the similarities in their looks particularly striking. It was like looking at two pictures of the same person, one as a boy and the other as a man. Somehow, even though he was smaller and not as strong, I felt like maybe the boy would be the one to save the man this time. Having my love was all well and good, but there was just something about King’s eyes when he looked at our boy that brought the life back into them. It was in that moment that I truly believed he’d never drink again. I hadn’t realised it, but I hadn’t been certain before. Now, somehow I just knew.

Sitting by the counter, I placed my chin in my hands, watching them interact.

It made me happy.

King only saw me when he turned, holding the pan. His lips twitched with a smile as he plopped the food onto the plates.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

“Shut up,” I said.

“Oi! You’re not allowed to say that,” Oliver said.

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he giggled. King dished up the French toast, and I poured an unhealthy amount of maple syrup onto mine. Oliver made a face at me, because he didn’t like maple syrup and preferred strawberry jam.

We were eating for a minute or two when I heard a key slot into the front door. My eyes widened and went straight to King, whose brow was furrowed curiously at the sound of someone entering my house, someone who had a key. It wasn’t at all what he thought, though. I heard Elaine’s light footsteps sound down the hall before she stepped inside the room. She often stopped by unexpectedly, but since she’d visited just yesterday, I didn’t think she’d be back so soon. When I saw the bunch of flowers she was holding, I knew she’d come just to drop them off. Every once in a while she liked to bring me flowers. King turned in his place to see who’d come in, and his fork clattered loudly to his plate.

“Oliver,” said Elaine, her voice laced heavily with emotion.

“Mum,” he breathed, so quiet it was almost a whisper.

She looked to me, and I knew instantly that she hadn’t intended to intrude. She lifted the flowers weakly, as though to prove her visit was innocent. And then her eyes filled with tears. Seconds later King was standing, taking long strides towards her and pulling her into his arms for a tight embrace. They hugged for a long time, the flowers getting squashed between them.

Oliver looked at me, his mouth open and his eyes big. He clearly sensed something important was happening, but he wasn’t sure what. The long silence was broken when he whispered, “Why is Granny Elaine crying?”

I didn’t know how to answer, but then I heard Elaine’s soft chuckle as she pulled back from King and turned to face him. She stepped forward and ran her hand lightly over Oliver’s hair. “Because this is my son,” she answered gently. “And I haven’t seen him for a very long time.”

I watched Oliver as his little brain put two and two together. “You’re his mummy,” he said finally, and Elaine nodded. King had come to place a hand reassuringly on her shoulder.

“I belong to her the same as you belong to your mum,” he explained.

“Oh,” said Oliver. “I’d be sad, too, if I didn’t see my mummy for a very long time.”

His words made us all choke up, and I stood to go grab a plate for Elaine and some coffee. It gave me a chance to settle my emotions. She sat down at the table, talking to Oliver mostly. I got the sense that she really wanted some alone time with King, so once we’d finished eating, I made a suggestion.

“How about Oliver and I go out for a couple of hours? Give you both some time to catch up.”

Elaine nodded like it was a good idea, but King looked a little more hesitant. I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want to spend time with her, but more because he didn’t want to talk about all the painful things they had to discuss.

“I don’t want to go,” my son complained grumpily. “I want to stay here with Oliver 2!”

In any other situation, his grumpiness would have annoyed me, but no. The fact that he’d grown so attached to King made my heart do wild flip-flops in my chest.

“Oliver 2?” Elaine asked, her lips tugging into a smile.

I sighed and smiled back at her. “He thinks it’s crazy that they’re both named Oliver. Don’t ask. Do you mind if he stays? I have a few things I need to take care of anyway, and it’ll be easier if I leave him here.”

“Of course not, you know I always love having him.”

And that was how I found myself grabbing my things and making my way to the front door. King followed me out, leaving Elaine and Oliver in the kitchen. Then he placed his hand to the small of my back, and my body gave a little shudder.

“Don’t feel like you have to leave,” he said quietly, his touch warm.

I turned and looked up at him. “You and your mum need to talk. I’ll only be gone a couple of hours.”

“Yes, but this is your house….”

I quieted him by placing a finger to his lips. “No buts. Seriously, you need to talk to her. Get it all out. If you put a DVD on for Oliver, he’ll be quite happy to sit and watch it. He won’t give you any trouble.”

“It’s not about that. You know I love him.”

Without thinking, a soft sigh escaped me. “God, I love that you love him.”

“Well,” said King, leaning closer, voice low, “I love that you love that I love him. And I love you, too.”

I shot him an amused scowl. “Don’t try to sweet-talk me.” My hand moved from his mouth to his jaw, my touch a caress as my expression sobered. “How are you feeling, though? Any headaches or nausea?”

His mouth firmed as he swallowed. “Honestly? Yeah, a bit of both. But I’m handling it.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, ready to burst, I was so proud of him. “You are.”

His strength in dealing with all this as well as feeling like shit from quitting drinking continually amazed me. He backed me into the wall and bent to press a kiss to my jaw. “I’ll miss you today.”

“I’ll miss you, too. Now, I’d better go. Otherwise, I might drag you back upstairs to bed.”

His answering chuckle vibrated through my chest as I slipped out the door and headed for my car. It was only when I was halfway down the street from my house that I realised I had no clue where I was going.