KEEGAN POV
She was draped across my thighs, sun-kissed and boneless, wearing nothing but my hoodie. The damn thing swallowed her whole, and still she looked like it was made for her. Like she belonged in it. In my clothes. In my lap.
In my life.
Her fingers twirled a daisy between them, slow and absent, like her thoughts were floating somewhere between this moment and the next. But mine? Mine were stuck on her.
She looked content. And I was proud of that. Of me. Of what I’d just done to her.
No, for her.
Because I’d memorized every moan, every twitch, every scream she gave me—and carved them deep into the marrow of my bones. That kind of sound… it would keep a man alive for centuries.
My hand moved lazily through her hair, soft and thick and made to be gripped, tangled, praised. The
