Outrageously in Love by Jen Morris

31

I’m in big trouble. I knew there was another reason I didn’t spend the night with Luke, but I let myself forget it.

He’s a really cuddly sleeper, and we spent the whole night in each other’s arms. I never thought I’d be a cuddly sleeper, if I’m honest. It just seemed impractical, and a little suffocating. But snuggled close with Luke, I slept better than I have in a very long time.

And now, as I roll over in bed and see him dozing beside me, I realize what a mistake I’ve made. I’ll never be able to wake up alone again without feeling like something—someone—is missing.

I run my eyes over him: the scruff that has now grown into a short beard, dark and coarse against the smooth creaminess of his cheek; the tiny round scar below his eye; his lush lashes and his full, soft lips. He is truly the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on and I still can’t believe he kisses me, he wants me.

With a yawn and a stretch, he blinks awake. “What a beautiful sight to wake up to,” he murmurs, his sleepy, smiling eyes moving over my face. They flicker with interest. “You know, I’ve never seen you without your red lipstick.”

Shit.

My hand flies to my mouth, self-consciously touching my lips. I haven’t applied it since we left the city and, well, I used my mouth a lot last night. All that friction must have rubbed it off.

He gives a little chuckle as he reaches out to stroke a thumb over my cheek. “I’m not complaining. It’s nice to see the real you.”

The real you.

He has seen the real me—more than anyone has—and he’s still here. The things I’ve shared with him haven’t sent him running. If anything, they’ve brought us closer. And while I’m feeling brave for sharing those things, there are still some things I can’t bring myself to say—like the fact that the past two weeks have been the best two weeks of my life, that I’m feeling things for him I’ve never felt for anyone, and now I’m scared that once I go home, I’ll never feel like this again.

But all those thoughts die away as he tenderly trails his hand over me. He brushes past my nipple, setting off fireworks across my skin, then tucks his hand around my back and pulls me against him. I nuzzle into the warmth of his chest, closing my eyes and breathing in his spicy, woody smell. I don’t want to think about any of that. I just want to enjoy the time we have together.

I feel something hard digging into my hip, and reach down eagerly, grasping him and taking him by surprise. He gives a sharp, delighted grunt, pressing himself against my hand, and I begin to move in slow, gentle strokes.

“I just cannot get enough of you,” he murmurs into my hair, his fingers tightening on my back. “It doesn’t matter how many times we have sex. It’s never enough.”

A thrill runs through me and I nuzzle further into his chest so he can’t see how delirious I am.

“It’s not really about sex, though. Just being with you, Harri, talking with you…” he trails off, his eyes fluttering closed as my hand continues to work. And then he says something I’m sure he doesn’t mean to say, something that probably just tumbles out because of the way I’m touching him: “I wish I could wake up to you like this every morning.”

I swallow hard, my breathing going all funny. Because, God, I’m wishing that so much right now.

I don’t know what to say. But I do know what I’m feeling, because it makes me do something I’ve never done: I kick my underwear off, roll on top of him and go to slide him inside me without a condom. I pause at the last second. “I’m on the pill,” I say in a rush. I’ve been on it for years to help regulate my periods, but I’ve never used it for, well, this purpose.

Luke’s eyes widen. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

I nod. “I’m healthy.”

“Me too.”

“So… is this alright?”

A smile slowly curls along his lips. “Yeah. Yes.”

I grin. Glancing down, I position him at my entrance, and we both watch as he sinks inside me, nothing separating us.

He groans, pressing himself deeper and throwing his head back on the pillow as he’s overcome with sensation. I move my hips in a slow, gentle rhythm, my hands on his chest, studying his face for every single sign of pleasure. I don’t want to miss any of it. He’s right—we could have sex a million times and it would never be enough.

“Come here, baby.” He reaches for me, pulling me down close. His hands slide over my back, palms spread flat and wide, hot against my skin. It feels like he’s trying to hold every inch of me, to possess me, and heat rockets through me at the thought.

“I love having your hands on me,” I whisper against his lips, and he hums his agreement.

His lips make a trail along my jaw, my collarbone, teeth grazing my ear. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he murmurs into my hair, and my breath sticks in my throat.

Forever?

No, I must have misheard that.

But—

His hands tighten on my ass, holding me in place as he thrusts up into me from underneath, hitting a spot that wipes every scattered thought from my mind. When he lowers his thumb between my legs, I moan and clench around him, moving my hips to match his rhythm. The silky feeling of him inside me, knowing there’s nothing between us, quickly pushes me over the edge, so that I’m heaving against him and panting into his mouth.

Bloody hell. I don’t know how that happened so fast.

Once I’ve caught my breath, he wriggles up the bed, sitting back against the headboard with me still straddling him. I like this so much more, because now I can wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck and breathe him in. God, I feel drunk. But it’s not just the pleasure, it’s him. It’s his salty skin on my tongue, fistfuls of his hair in my hands, all of him filling me deep. I’ve never wanted to consume so much of one person.

His hands skate down to grip my hips, and he dips his head to take my nipple in his mouth. I arch forward, dropping my head back in ecstasy.

I cannot live without this man now.

The thought appears in my mind, lit like a bright neon sign, and it scares me so much that I try to shove it away.

I crush my lips to his, willing my stupid mind to shut up. “Luke,” I breathe, kissing along his rough jaw, sucking on the soft flesh of his earlobe. I force myself to bite my tongue—physically bite my tongue—in case I say something I can’t take back.

He draws away to gaze at me, raising a hand to stroke my hair, my cheek. “Harriet, I…” His movements slow as his eyes trace my face. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes my heart explode behind my ribs, as if it knows something I don’t. I hold my breath, waiting for him to go on.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, digging his fingertips into my hips and holding on for dear life, moaning as he falls apart inside me.

We stay like that for a long time, holding each other close, neither one of us daring to move.