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Whatever I needed. Such a simple promise that felt revolutionary after years of having my needs minimized, mocked, weaponized against me. But here in Tyson's arms, feeling five-maybe-six and perfectly safe about it, I believed him.

I believed in princesses who painted light into being.

I believed in protectors who told stories and made mac and cheese.

I believed in being small and strong at the same time.

Most of all, I believed that maybe, finally, I'd found someone who saw all of me—big and little and everything in between—and thought every part was worth protecting.

Chapter 12

Tyson

Thenextmorning,consciousnessreturned in pieces—the weight of Lena's body half-draped across mine, her hair tickling my chest, the warm press of her lips against my neck. Her mouth moved with deliberate intent, trailing heat down the column of my throat while her small hand mapped the planes of my chest. Each touch sent electricity straight to my cock, my body responding before my mind fully engaged.

"Morning, Soldier Boy," she purred against my skin, and the vibration of her voice made me groan.

I was instantly, achingly hard. Especially when she threw a leg over me, the heat of her core pressing against my thigh through the thin barrier of her sleep shorts. She rocked slightly, a barely-there movement that told me exactly where her mind had gone.

"Someone's feeling better," I managed, my hands finding her hips automatically. The smooth skin under my palms made rational thought difficult.

"Much better." She lifted her head to look at me, hazel eyes bright with mischief and want. No trace of yesterday's vulnerable little girl—this was Lena in full bratty glory. "And very, very grateful."

She punctuated the word with another roll of her hips, this time with clear intent. We both groaned at the friction, and my fingers tightened on her waist.

"Want to show you how grateful," she continued, her hand sliding lower, tracing the trail of hair below my navel. "Want to worship every inch of you. Want to taste—"

"Fuck, baby." My control hung by a thread already. Morning wood was one thing, but morning wood with Lena actively trying to seduce me? Torture.

Her hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the waistband of my boxers, and I caught her wrist just before she could wrap those talented fingers around me.

"You're killing me," I growled, using my grip to still her wandering hand.

"That's the idea." She leaned down to nip at my jaw, teeth grazing the stubble there. "Want you to lose control. Want you to flip me over and fuck me into this mattress until I can't remember anything but your name."

Christ. The mental image nearly undid me—Lena face-down, ass up, my hands in her hair while I drove into her hard enough to make the headboard slam against the wall. My cock throbbed painfully, and she must have felt it because she made a pleased sound and pressed closer.

"Such a greedy girl," I muttered, but there was no censure in it. How could there be when she was warm and willing and grinding against me like my own personal fantasy?

"Your greedy girl," she corrected, finally succeeding in getting her hand inside my boxers. The first touch of her fingers mademe buck, a curse tearing from my throat. "And I've been so patient. Didn't touch myself even once last night"

"Proud of you," I managed as she stroked me with maddening slowness. "So good for me."

"Then let me be good for you now." Her thumb swept over the head of my cock, spreading the moisture there. "Let me make you feel as safe and cared for as you made me feel yesterday."

The parallel hit deep. She wanted to return the comfort, the protection, in her own way. By taking me apart with pleasure until I couldn't think about threats or responsibilities or anything beyond her touch.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

We both froze, her hand still wrapped around me, my hands still gripping her hips. The outside world intruding on our bubble of morning desire.

"Ignore it," she whispered, squeezing gently.

The phone buzzed again. Then again. The pattern I recognized as Duke's "urgent church" notification.

"No," I groaned, dropping my head back against the pillow. Reality crashed over me like ice water. "Fuck. I have to go."

"What?" She pulled back slightly, indignation replacing seduction. "Right now? But I'm—we're—"