A Love Like Ours

Chapter 29

I didn't want to move. I'd woken up twice now, but the first time, I was so blissfully warm, comfortable, and at peace, I didn't dare stir.

But there was a crack of light streaming in through the curtains now, and it burned my eyes before I could close them again. And when I did, I could still see the reddish glow behind my closed lids. It had to be at least noon.

I reached for her, found her soft, bare body not even an arm's length away, and rolled toward her, carefully tucking my head into the crook of her neck, and breathing her in as she slept.

The spill of her hair on the pillow smelled like sex. Sex and coconuts. I breathed deep, running my nose over her shoulder next. Her skin was warm and inviting, and I curled myself around her for a moment, closed my eyes, let myself feel her breathe as last night came back to me in a wonderful swirl of memory.

We'd made love three times, with lots of talking and laughing in between and afterwards. And each time I left her, each time the cold air of reality wrapped around me again, I already missed her, already ached for her, and kissed her already looking forward to the next time I'd fill her—the next time she'd take me in and complete me again.

Mads was a trooper. That last time, she'd winced when I slid inside, but hurried me to continue when I'd paused, when I'd looked at her, afraid that I was hurting her. And she'd finished me off not long later, let me bury myself deep as my release took me.

While we'd both fallen asleep after the second time, we really passed out after the third. I woke once earlier, my body still tired from our exertions, and when I glanced at her—as if my subconscious woke me expressly to make sure she was still there—I pulled her close, and fell asleep again.

Now, I could've slept some more, but my full bladder was urging me to get up, to leave the warmth of this bed behind. And I hated that single bodily urge.

With a soft kiss pressed to her shoulder, and after several quiet, careful moments trying my best not to jostle her, I was standing beside the bed, smiling down at the still-sleeping woman in it, enjoying the sight of the delicate arch of her back, and the rise of her hip beneath the bedsheets. Four years later, she still slept like the dead.

But I also took a great sense of pleasure in knowing we'd done enough to so thoroughly wear her out.

I was as quiet as I could be whilst in the bathroom, and came out not five minutes later having brushed my teeth and splashed my face with water to find her still asleep, but on her back now, her hand curled gently, face-up beside her face. One breast peeked out from beneath the sheets, and the sight made me pause. It took a great deal of restraint not to head right for her, and wake her with my mouth. But I didn't want to wake her. I wanted her to rest for as long as she needed to after last night.

Once I was awake, I was awake. I was still tired, but there was no going back now. My mind was already up for the day, and it was filled with images that only woke me even more. Mads beneath me. Mads on top of me. The way her lips fell open. The pink of her cheeks. The sight of her smile. The sound of her laugh. The feel of her hair between my fingers. The way her eyes had looked in the darkness—the deepest blue. Each sensation overwhelmed me now, and I turned away from her, still determined not to wake her up just yet.

I made myself coffee as a distraction, using the coffee maker the hotel provided. I sat in an armchair as it brewed, my eyes going to her again despite myself.

She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. So delicate in a bed of rumpled sheets—my bed. And last night had arguably been the best night of my life. Not because we hadn't had other great nights—we had—but last night... being with her in that way again after so long, feeling the way she loved me, the way I loved her... it was more special to me than any other night we'd spent together. Without question.