She whimpers, just the barest sound, like she doesn’t quite believe it yet, and that tears something raw in me. She shouldn’t doubt it. Not with me.
Shifting carefully, I ease her down onto the bed, rolling onto my side so I can pull her against my chest. She doesn’t resist. She can’t. She’s too weak to move on her own, her body spent, her breathing still broken, but when I gather her into my arms, when I stroke my hand slowly down her spine, she melts against me like she belongs there.
“You did so good for me,” I murmur against her temple, brushing her damp hair back from her face. I let my lips linger there, just breathing her in. “So f*****g good, Red.”
Her lashes flutter, her body trembling less now as my hand keeps moving in slow, steady strokes down her back. I don’t rush it. I do
