Page 28

28

HUNTER

F riends with benefits.

That’s what she said.

That’s all she wants.

And yet…I’m lying here, cock in hand, chest heaving, staring at the literal embodiment of my every wet dream in the flesh—naked, flushed, and marked with me. All I can think is, that ?

That did not feel like friends with benefits sex.

That felt like soul-feasting, earth-shattering, life-altering sex.

If this is what post-nut clarity is supposed to be, then all it’s doing is clarifying that I’ve got to fix the lie I told this woman—this sweet, dirty-mouthed goddess who just destroyed me—and figure out how to keep her.

Permanently.

"You okay?" she asks through a lazy giggle, her voice all honey and bliss.

"Yeah," I murmur, still catching my breath. "You look hot like that."

She’s reclined like a sin-soaked painting, flushed and glistening, hair a mess, thighs parted—still wearing a wicked grin.

And then, just to fully fry the last functioning cell in my brain, she reaches down and grabs hold of my dick. Gives it a gentle squeeze.

“Still some left,” she teases, watching as the last drops spill onto her stomach.

Holy. Hell.

I groan low in my throat, grinning like an idiot. “You’re trouble.”

“You like trouble,” she murmurs.

Damn right I do.

I slip off the bed and grab the a washcloth from her bathroom. Carefully, I kneel between her thighs, warm washcloth in hand, and start to wipe her down.

Slow. Gentle. Worshipful.

She watches me through hooded eyes, her lips parting on a quiet sigh as I clean her stomach, her thighs, and her breasts with reverence that borders on spiritual.

“You’re not supposed to make aftercare hot,” she whispers.

“Too late,” I say, kissing her knee. “You make everything hot.”

I slide up beside her, pulling the blanket over us. Her back finds my chest like it was meant to be there.

I know this isn’t love yet.

But hell, I’m halfway there.

And I don’t think I’ll survive it if this whole friends with benefits thing ends up being a dead-end.

Not with her.

Not after this .