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Reaching out, he exhales and gives my cock a languid stroke. I love the look in his eyes when he does that and the way he seems entranced by the sight of our connection when I ride him.

Smiling up at me, he gives my tip a squeeze that makes me groan. “You don’t look as tired as you said you were.”

Snickering, I close my eyes to focus on the pleasure. If he gets me laughing, I’ll never get off.

“I am,” I pant, “but I wasn’t going to go to bed until you fucked me.”

“Hm. Kind of looks like you’re fucking me right now.”

Scoffing, I flash him a look, still hating the way he can get me to blush. “Because you made me.”

He didn’t. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who rolled us over and climbed on top of him. The smirk on his face says he knows it.

Stretching his arms above his head and slipping them under the pillow, he sighs and closes his eyes. “I’m tired too. What can I say?”

As my thighs burn from bouncing up and down in my crouched position over him, I wait for him to open his eyes again. He doesn’t, though.

Is he serious?

Scoffing, I tighten my grip on the headboard and lean in. “Playing possum isn’t a kink of mine. I can assure you of that.”

Stillness. A smirk. Nothing more.

Chuckling, I dig my hand into his hair and press a kiss to his mouth. His lips move, and his tongue slides along mine. When I pull back, though, his eyes are still closed.

“Oh, my God. Knock it off.”

“What?” he asks innocently.

“Open your eyes.”

“Why? I told you I’m tired. You’re doing a great job, handsome. Keep up the good work.”

I may hurt him. I give his hair a tug and try not to laugh. “You’re hilarious. Open your fucking eyes when your cock is in me.”

His lids flare open then. I don’t know why, but it gives me a flutter of butterflies in my stomach like the first few times we were together.

“You like when I look at you while my cock is in you?”

I swallow against a thick sensation in my throat. My cock bobs in the air, untouched now with his hand not on it anymore. Taking a slide up, I watch his pupils. When I slide back down, his lids droop slightly, his eyes looking glazed over.

“You know I do,” I whisper.

Smiling, he grips my hips and rises into a sitting position. “Hm. I’m suddenly very awake.”

Snickering, I shake my head at him and snake my arms around his shoulders. He helps resituate my legs, wrapping them around him.

Planting one hand on the mattress, he cups the other underneath my ass and helps me resume my movements. His head leans in, and he murmurs, “I see you even in my sleep. You know that, right?”

The things this man says, coupled with the way I can take him so deep right now, make my head spin. I leverage my feet against the mattress, riding him with as much gusto as I can for his thrilling words.

“You’re a dream that never ends, Charlie. I don’t ever want to wake up.”

Maybe it was today—the shitshow with my brother Shane. Or the way Rory let me handle my own battle because he always finds a way of making me brave enough to do things on my own. Maybe it’s because I haven’t said the words enough or that it was a long journey to get me to where I am right now, but I sputter against a sob. I’m so happy and so grateful that I’m literally crying.

“I love you,” I blubber, cupping his head and pouring all my emotions into a kiss. “I love you so much, Rory.”

The next thing I know, my back is being gently lowered to the mattress. My face is being peppered with slow, soft kisses. Thumbs are wiping my tears. When I blink, I see Rory staring down at me. His eyes are misty, and his face is pure affection.