Page 109

I wished I could take him to New York. See him in my space for only a moment. His strong body against my sheets, leaning against my kitchen counters, reading on my couch while the city hummed around us.

I wished I had a million mornings, just like this. His weight, his warmth, the feel of his breath against my skin. I did everything I could to savor it—I wrote the scene in my head. The way the colors of the rising sun touched his skin, the color of the sheets, the chill in the air, the scent of cinnamon that trailed him wherever he went.

It broke my heart to know that I was already in a memory.

I leaned forward and kissed him gently. He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering open. Red, gold, brown, a hint of green.

“Avery.” His voice was so deep, gruff and rusted from sleep. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

He kissed my brow and pressed me to his chest, fingers skirting up and down my back.

“How did you sleep, grá?”

I snuggled closer to him, arm locked around his hips. Gooseflesh rose everywhere I touched and I thought that it must be some sort of super power to make someone else feel this way.

“Good. The better question is how did you sleep?”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating under my ear. “I slept well,” he said, sounding a little bit dazed. “In all the years I’ve come through on Samhain, I’ve never slept.”

“That’s because you didn’t have me,” I teased, tickling his sides.

His laugh was weak at best. “No,” he said almost sadly. “I didn’t.”

“Hey.” I sat up, hair falling over my shoulder. He moved it away from my face, thumb brushing along my cheek. “We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Aye.” He ran his eyes over me, the T-shirt hanging from my shoulders. “You are a sight,” he murmured. “Even in my best dreams, I never did you justice.”

I melted into his kiss, hands shoving the covers down away from his hips. He peeled off my shirt, leaving me bare above him. I touched him in fleeting, teasing strokes until he was groaning against my throat and thrusting into my hand.

I pulled my mouth from his and kissed my way down his chest, over a small scar by his hip and a dark freckle on the top of his thigh. He tucked one arm behind his head and watched me like a hawk, eyes trained on every inch of ground my mouth covered.

I flicked my eyes his way once.

“Avery,” he warned, one hand fisting in the sheet.

I winked, sliding him all the way to the back of my mouth. He let out a hoarse shout, bucking his hips up. He swore, low and soft, as I added my hand and worked him up and down. He praised me as I moved. I kept my eyes on him, watching his breath hitch and the pulse at the base of his neck thunder below his skin.

“Inside you,” he panted. “Please.”

I worked my mouth over him once more before sliding off him. He was shaking as he reached for me and drew me up over top of him. His kiss was wild, barely restrained. He lined himself up with me and pushed. I swiveled my hips, taking him all the way. He moaned into my mouth, already moving.

I was tight and sore from last night, but the feeling was exquisite.

He sat up, bringing us nose to nose. He kept one hand gripped on my hip, working me back and forth. The other curled around the back of my neck, holding me in place.

“Mine,” he whispered. “You are mine.”

“I’m yours,” I gasped.

One hand dropped between us, lazily stroking and circling. Heat exploded along my spine, seeping into the skin of my neck and chest.

“And you love me,” he continued, watching me.

“I love you,” I repeated.

I wanted to move faster but his hand flexed, stilling me.