Kiss the Sky

[ 31 ] CONNOR COBALT

We didn’t do it once. Or twice. Or even three times. After I exhausted her mind and body, I finally begin to untie her from the bed.

Her eyes flutter wearily, but she fights to stay awake, a quality I admire.

“What no more?” she asks softly, humor to her voice.

“It’s time to sleep.” I toss my belt on the floor and kiss her reddened wrist. Faint bruises and marks blemish her naked body, and I can’t wait to see what she thinks of them in the morning.

I place her hands gently by her side, and I carefully wipe the spot between her legs with the towel. Rose cringes just slightly. She was tighter than I expected, but she was also incredibly wet. Still, I didn’t want to take her slowly. She’ll be sore in the morning. I grin as I imagine how every time she aches and moves she’ll remember me inside of her.

Quickly, I throw the towel in the hamper and clean myself off. I find another pair of boxer-briefs from my suitcase and pull them on before I head back to bed.

Rose’s eyes have closed, but they open a fraction when I slip underneath the covers next to her. She scoots closer, a gesture unlike the guarded girl I know. I take advantage and grab her around the waist, tucking her in my arms.

She rests her head on my chest and her lips softly kiss the bare skin. She doesn’t say anything, and my hand falls to her round bottom. I could get used to this vulnerable side of her.

“I think I understand how someone could get addicted to sex,” she says softly.

“Yes, well, your sister doesn’t have sex like that.” I stroke her damp hair, and my comment stirs her almost fully awake.

“And how would you know?” she combats, as if presuming I slept with Lily. And there goes that vulnerable side.

I smile. “Maybe we should take it slower next time,” I say. “It seems all these endorphins and hormones have made you a little—”

Her eyes burst into flames. “If you say stupid—”

I kiss her lips, cutting her off. She settles down, probably more out of exhaustion than true surrender. She is an awful submissive. But that’s what I adore about her. She’s a challenge. My challenge.

I glance down at Rose and her eyes are barely open now. “I’m glad I have you,” she tells me before her lids sink closed, and she drifts asleep in my arms. But I’m the one who should be glad.

I had no one before Rose. No true friends. No family, not really.

Now I have her. I have people I care about it. People that I want to protect.

Now I have everything.

The only thing about having everything is that you can lose it all.