And then his hands were gone. The loss of them was almost painful. My need for him to fill me, take me…nearly feral.
Then I was in motion. Cope hauled me into his arms and carried me to the bed. He laid me down with such gentleness despite that need coursing through us both. As he stepped back, Cope didn’t take his eyes off me.
With one hand, he ripped his tee free. I didn’t look away. I let my eyes feast on the wall of muscle, his body honed to be the perfect weapon. The defined pecs were dusted with hair, dipping down into so many abs I lost count. But I traced each and every one with my gaze.
Cope kicked off his shoes as his fingers locked in the band of his joggers. In one swift move, his pants and boxer briefs were gone, and he stood before me completely bare. Nothing obstructed him from view.
Cope’s fingers curled around his cock, and he stroked once, twice, a third time. My core tightened, closing around nothing but the promise of him.
“Back against the pillows, Warrior. Spread your legs. I want to see you. All of you,” Cope demanded.
A shiver raced through me as wetness gathered between my thighs. I did exactly what he commanded, shoving myself against the pillows and sliding my bare feet over the soft duvet. The cool air ghosted over my skin, making my nipples pebble.
I’d never felt more vulnerable, but I’d also never felt stronger, bolder, or more empowered. And as Cope stared at me, I’d never felt more beautiful.
Those dark-blue eyes became hooded as he stalked toward the bed. “Do you know how perfect you look? Legs spread, glistening. Nipples pressed against that lace, just dying to break free.”
My fingers fisted in the duvet, holding on as I stared at the man I’d fallen so deeply in love with. “Take me, Cope. Make meyours.”
It wasn’t ownership that I was looking for; it was belonging. And Cope understood that. Understood that he was mine as much as I was his. That we belonged to each other. That we gave one another a home when we’d been missing exactly that.
Cope didn’t make me wait. He was on me in a flash. He slid between my thighs, and my legs hooked around his waist. His gaze locked with mine. I saw fire there, but so much more. “Tell me again.”
“I love you.”
“I want to feel it,” he growled.
And with that, he slid into me. My back arched, my hips rising to meet him. The stretch was almost painful but stopped just shy of it as if my body were made to take his. As if this had all been written in the stars.
My lips parted as Cope thrust deeper, my eyes watering, and my heels digging into his hips. Cope didn’t move for a second. “Feel that love, Warrior. The way you’re gripping me says you won’t let go.”
My eyes watered for a whole different reason now. “I won’t.”
“Promise me,” Cope rasped.
“I promise.”
That was all he needed. Cope retreated and thrust back in deeper this time. My body welcomed him, cried out for more. My hips rose, meeting him there, in the places that were now only ours.
It was as if our bodies could speak without words. But I wanted to give him those words, too. I gripped Cope’s shoulders as my walls trembled around him. Each time he slammed into me, it nearly took me over the edge.
“Hold on,” Cope growled. “I need more of you. More of this. Don’t ever want it to end.”
My fingernails dug into his shoulders, so deep and hard I knew they’d draw blood. “Cope,” I pleaded.
He arched into me, sending little explosions of light dancing across my vision. And I knew I couldn’t hold on for much longer. I forced my eyes open, moving my attention to him.
Cope met me there, our gazes locking. I didn’t look away as I gave him the words again. “I love you.”
And with those three little words, I came, clamping down so hard around Cope that he let loose a snarl. But he didn’t stop. He took me over and over, riding out my orgasm until he came, emptying into me. And I took it all. I wanted every last piece of him.
Cope’s forehead dropped to mine, our breaths mingling as we struggled to get enough air. “I love you. With everything in me. All I am is yours. Brokenness and all.”
My fingers tangledwith Cope’s as he drove through Sparrow Falls. My head was on a swivel, looking for any signs of them—the media that had descended on our tiny town. The place that had become my safe harbor.
“I’m sorry.” Cope’s voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t a whisper either.
I shifted in my seat, turning to face him. “It’s not your fault.”
