Playing With Fire

Epilogue

Epilogue
Solana

A low moan rumbled out from my chest as I started waking from my deep slumber.

My back lifted off the bed to loosen the tension that built during my sleep, but halfway through my stretch, my breaths halted when I felt hot breath caressing the curve of my neck.

Slowly, awareness started to seep into my consciousnesses, until I was laying my back flat against the mattress. My eyes begun to flutter open when I recognized the heat radiating off someone's body—the body which was hovering above mine.

A weak groan escaped my lips when I felt lips starting to trail kisses over my jawline before travelling over my bare collarbone. Remembering I fell asleep in nothing but a tank top, I shivered.

"Christian," I grumbled, but still lazily reached out, wrapping my arms behind his neck. "What are you doing?"

"Waking you up," he drawled, his voice still rough from sleep. He continued dragging his mouth up my throat, and I felt him smirk against me. "I'm bored, Lonnie. I've been waiting for you to wake up for over an hour."

"An hour?" I chuckled breathlessly, but arched against him. "That's a new record."

He hummed before settling himself against me, so I was between his legs. "I missed you." Christian's gruff words were muffled by his face being in the crook of my neck. He slid a hand to my waist, and since my shirt had risen up, his warmth scorched my skin. I jolted, and I felt him smiling in pleasure.

"We literally slept next to each other," I deadpanned, albeit groggily from sleep. "Unless you're saying you miss my socks?"

His nose scrunched against me in disgust. "Fuck that. I'll warm you up."

"Yes, my own personal heater." My words were laced with sarcasm, but the longer I was awake, the more my hands began to move around his body. They fell off his hair before lowering to his shoulders, which I briefly rubbed before grazing my fingers down to his waist.

He grunted against me before he head lowered, back to my collarbone. I jerked underneath him when his teeth started scrapping my skin, seconds before he started sucking.

I rolled my eyes but smiled before arching my head back. "Seriously?"

He sucked harder and hummed, marking me. And despite the nonchalance in my tone, I squeezed my legs together because somehow, Christian learned that when he gave me hickey's, my body reacted like it was responding to a high. That high being my husband's body.

It's been over five years since Christian and I became officially a couple, and yet, the man did not hesitate to find ways to get my body to react to his touch. Not that it was hard for him, the smug bastard.

We got married two years ago. He proposed when I got my license to practice psychotherapy, right around the time he was also traded to a new NFL team: from Cleveland Browns to the New England Patriots. We had a lot to celebrate that month.

As much as the news excited his fans, they didn't know the amount of convincing it took for Christian to agree to the trade. When he was drafted our last year of school, he wanted to join the Cleveland's because their goddamn colours included orange. He wanted to still see me in the colour, so that's how he based his choice.

He got them a win, and when it was draft season two years later, he wanted to stay. It didn't help that the New England Patriots had blue in their colours. This man was still a child.

But he knew what a great deal it was, and after some reminding he could wear white and red, he accepted the trade—which thus moved us to Boston. Although, that's not where we were now.