The pleasure is unbearable in the best way—consuming, intoxicating. Every thrust sends another ripple of heat through me, tightening the coil low in my belly until I’m trembling against him, teetering on the edge of something devastatingly good.
“Look at me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine as his pace quickens. I do. And what I see—desperation, need, something deeper, something that feels like worship—pushes me over the edge, pulling him right along with me.
“Come with me, Jules,” he growls, his forehead pressed to mine.
And I do. Again. My body clenches around him just as his own release takes over, his shuddering groan swallowed by my lips.
For a long moment, we just stay like that. Pressed together. Bodies slick, hearts pounding.
Then, as if on cue, my stomach lets out a low, grumbling protest.
Corbin laughs, his head dropping to my shoulder. “You’re hungry.”
“Impossible,” I pant. “You just filled me up.”
He pulls back just enough to give me a look. “Jules.”
I grin. “What? Too much?”
“You’ve always been terrible at one-liners.”
I swat at his arm as he carefully sets me on my feet, turns off the shower and grabs a towel, wrapping it snug around my body before securing one around his own waist.
“You dry off,” he instructs. “I’ll grab the food.”
I slip into his closet, pulling one of his old T-shirts over my head just as he returns with the takeout. He gestures toward the bed, and I hesitate.
“Are you seriously going to eat in bed?”
“People change.” He shrugs.
I narrow my eyes. “The Corbin I knew would never let anyone eat in his bed.”
“Good thing you’re not just anyone,” he says, settling in.
I roll my eyes but crawl onto the mattress beside him, propping a pillow behind my back as he hands me a container of sushi.
We eat in comfortable silence for a while, chopsticks clinking, rain drumming softly against the windows. But something lingers in the air—charged and unspoken.
And then, before I can talk myself out of it, I ask, “Is this a normal date night for you?”
Corbin glances up, chewing. “What do you mean?”
I gesture between us. “Dinner after sex. Is this your usual routine with the other women?”
His brows knit together. “What other women?”
“The ones you’ve been dating since we separated,” I clarify.
He sets his chopsticks down and just stares at me like I’ve said something insane. “Jules.”
“What?”
“There haven’t been any other women.”
I nearly choke on a piece of salmon and rice. “W-what?”
He tilts his head. “Where did you get the idea that I was sleeping with other women?”
