Page 29 of Smut Lovers

Epilogue

Rafe

I slid my key into the lock and turned it before pushing my way into the apartment I shared with Finch. Toeing my shoes off by the front door, I took notice that Finch’s shoes were haphazardly tossed there, not organized in the row he usually kept our shoes in.

The house was silent apart from a basketball game playing on TV.

When I glanced at it, I saw Damien running across the court, the ball in his possession.

Finch tried to catch all of Damien’s games now that his old teammate had gone pro, but one look at the couch told me Finch had missed the majority of the game.

My man was passed out on our leather sofa, one leg stretched out, the other draped down toward the floor.

He had one arm across his flat stomach, and the other was thrown over his head.

His face was turned toward the back of the couch, and his lips were parted, soft snores escaping.

Dark shadows rested beneath his eyes, and his cheeks were red.

Frowning, I set my bag down and moved closer to him, pressing my fingers to his forehead. He was warm to the touch, a sure sign he’d caught something from the gym he was a personal trainer at.

Kream, our orange and white cat, softly meowed at me from the back of the couch before standing and arching her back.

She stepped down onto Finch’s chest, and I gently batted her away, not wanting her to disturb him.

But since she was a cat—and an extra feisty, demanding one at that—she gave me a pissy meow, swatted at my hand, then launched herself onto the floor, but not before she made sure to dig all her claws into Finch’s chest.

Finch groaned and dropped his arm from above his head to his chest, rubbing at the sore, no doubt slightly bleeding claw marks. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, looking up at me.

“Why are you being a creep?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

I took a seat beside his hip on the edge of the sofa and pushed his hair back from his forehead. “How long have you been feeling bad, baby?” I asked him, still frowning.

He groaned and closed his eyes again. “I just felt tired all day,” he grumbled. “Not sick.”

“Not sick, my ass,” I retorted, now running my fingers through his hair.

He rolled onto his side and curled his massive body around me the best he could.

My heart clenched in my chest. To the world, Finch was a bit closed-off, didn’t talk much, and he was pretty antisocial.

He preferred to be alone. A lot of people we came into contact with thought he had a stick up his ass.

But when he was with me, he was soft and open, wanting every bit of attention I could lavish on him. And I ate that fucking shit up.

I loved that I was his safe space.

“It’s probably just a cold,” he said, his voice muffled by my thigh. I sighed and scratched at his scalp.

I just hummed in response to that, then suggested, “Why don’t we order some takeout for dinner, and in the meantime, we go lay in bed? I could use a nap, and I know you need some more sleep.”

He turned his head just enough to peek up at me. “Naked?”

I chuckled. “As if I’d let you sleep with me any other fucking way, baby.” I patted his ass, then gave it a light squeeze because I just couldn’t help myself. His ass was perfect—round, perky, and firm. “Up, baby. Come on.”

I stood and began making my way to the bedroom.

Finch made his way into the bedroom just as I was tossing my clothes into the hamper.

God forbid I ever left an item of clothing on the floor.

Finch just about had a coronary every fucking time I did, even if ninety-nine percent of the time, it was by accident—like a sock not making it into the basket.

I slid beneath the blankets, and in record time, Finch was sliding in bed beside me, his back facing me.

I wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged him against me so his back was molded to my chest and my cock, which was hard because fuck, it was damn near impossible not to be around Finch, was nestled between his ass cheeks.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he curled his arm beneath his pillow. I tucked my face into the back of his neck just like I always did, the scent of him soothing something deep inside of me.

“I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you, too, baby,” I softly replied. “Now get some rest. I’ll order food when I wake up.”

He nodded, and his hand came down to curl around my forearm, clinging to me. I smiled against his skin and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.