Page 97 of Shadows of Obsession

Tears pricked my eyes, real ones this time. I blinked them away and pressed a kiss over his heart. "You did the same for me."

He held me tighter, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other splayed across my lower back. The silence that followed waswarm and easy, broken only by our slowing breaths and the distant sounds of the ranch at night.

After a while, Jaxon shifted again, reaching down to pull the covers over us. The cool sheets kissed our overheated skin, a soft contrast to the warmth still lingering between us. He settled me against his side, my head resting on his chest, his arm secure around my shoulders.

My body still hummed with residual pleasure, muscles loose, heavy, and content in a way they hadn't been in years. I felt marked by him, not in any visible way, but in the way my body remembered his touch, in how my skin still tingled where his hands had been.

Sleep tugged at me, slow and certain, the emotional intensity of the night mingling with the exhaustion of release until I felt boneless and safe.

"Sleep, baby," Jaxon murmured, pressing another kiss to my hair. "I've got you."

And wrapped in his arms, safe, chosen, and whole, I let myself drift off. No nightmares. No fear. No doubt.

CHAPTER 27

Anna

Iwoke slowly, my senses returning in fragments. Warmth first, then the solid weight of an arm draped over me, then the steady rhythm of breathing against my neck.

Jaxon.

The memories of last night flooded back in a rush that sent heat blooming across my cheeks, his hands on my skin, his body moving with mine, the way he'd looked at me like I was something precious, something worth worshipping.

That actually happened.

His body was pressed against my back, his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me close to his broad chest like he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip. His hand had slipped beneath the shirt I wore—his shirt—and rested splayed across my bare stomach. The heat of his palm spread through my skin and settled low in my belly.

I could feel every point where our bodies connected: the solid wall of his chest against my back, his thighs tucked behind mine, and the unmistakable evidence of his morning arousal pressed against my backside, separated only by the thin fabric of his boxers and my underwear.

As I stretched languidly, testing the faint soreness in muscles I'd forgotten I had, his grip tightened reflexively, pulling me closer. His body was a furnace of heat against mine, sending delicious tingles racing along my nerves and making me acutely aware of every inch of bare skin touching his.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom. Dust motes danced in the sunbeam slanting across the bed, and everything felt hazy and dreamlike, too perfect to be real.

But it was real. He was real. This was real.

Jaxon shifted behind me, his arm tightening slightly before he leaned into the crook of my neck. His lips traced a slow, sensual path up to my temple, feather-light and soothing. A quiet reassurance that he was awake and fully present in this intimate moment.

My breath caught at the tenderness of it. After everything last night, the passion, the intensity, the way we'd come together again and again until we were both utterly spent, I'd half-expected awkwardness this morning. Some sign that he regretted it, that it had been a mistake.

But there was no hesitation in his touch. Only affection. Only certainty.

"Good morning," he murmured against my skin, his deep voice low and rich, still rough with sleep in a way that did absolutely sinful things to my insides.

The rumble of his words vibrated pleasantly through his chest against my back, and I couldn't suppress the small smile that curved my lips. Such a simple greeting, yet it carried a depth of affection that made my heart flutter wildly.

I turned to face him, my movements slow and deliberate, savoring the feeling of him against me. The shirt rode up as I moved, and I felt the brush of his bare thigh against mine, skin on skin, intimate and perfect.

When I finally faced him, the sight stole my breath. His dark hair was mussed from sleep, and from my fingers tangled in it last night, and his eyes were soft, unguarded in a way I'd never seen before. The morning light caught the blue of his irises, making them almost glow,and the smile playing at the corners of his mouth was genuine, warm, content.

He's beautiful. How did I get so lucky?I placed a gentle kiss over his steadily beating heart, my lips brushing against the warm skin of his chest. I could feel the rhythm beneath my mouth—strong, steady, alive—and it grounded me, reminding me that this was real, that I was allowed to have this.

My hands traveled up along his muscular arms, fingers tracing the defined biceps and the curve of his shoulders. My nails lightly grazed his skin, and goosebumps rose in their wake, proof that I affected him as much as he affected me. The knowledge sent a thrill through me, heady and intoxicating.

Jaxon shivered at the sensation, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "Anna," he breathed, my name a warning and a plea all at once.

Emboldened by his reaction, I gently bit into his sculpted pec, a playful nip that left a fleeting mark on his tanned skin. He groaned low in his throat, the sound making heat pool between my thighs.

I kissed my way up across his broad shoulder, my rhythm deliberate, a mix of tenderness and playful affection. Each press of my lips was a silent confession of my desire, my choice, my commitment to stay.