He throws his head back when I slide my grip lower, my fingers wandering to cup him, exploring velvet soft skin, hard muscles. His abs ripple, and his grip tightens on my shoulder.
“Oh, hell,” he mutters. His hips falter as he presses into my grip. Slowly, I ease my way over his body, kissing down his ribs, the narrow line of hair pointing to his erection.
“Frankie, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I whisper. I want to taste him. I want to bring him pleasure for pleasure’s sake. And it’ll be the first time he’s let me do this.
Ren groans and rolls his hips as I take a soft, teasing lick. He reaches for my waist and spins me so he can reach between my thighs. Rubbing my clit with his thumb, he curls two fingers inside me.
A rough cry rips out of me, before I grip the root of his cock and take him deep into my mouth. My legs shake as he strokes my G-spot, works my clit. Ren breathes unsteadily, his free hand delicately cupping my head, his fingers knotting in my hair.
“Oh, God, Frankie. Your mouth. Jesus.”
I moan with pleasure, watching him fall apart under my touch, locking eyes with those pale irises that widen as his hips falter.
“Close,” he whispers, warning me, trying to pull away. I shake my head, hold him tight in my grip.
Stay. I want this.
My orgasm begins at the heart of me, radiating out. Ren feels it, his eyes widening, then growing hazy as he thrusts into my mouth. Air rushes out of me as I fly over the edge, as light dances behind my eyelids. With a pained shout, Ren arches his back, pouring in hot, long pulses down my throat. His breath is rough and erratic. I slowly release him with one final kiss to the tip and smile up at him.
With no preamble, he reaches for me and pulls me flush over his body. After long quiet moments, he presses cool lips along my neck, up to my mouth with a heavy, satisfied exhale.
“Well, Zenzero,” I say happily against his neck. “Not that I’m surprised, but your Rookie of the Year, MVP status remains unchallenged.”
A laugh rumbles out of him, as he meets my lips for a tender kiss. “I feel like this is all we should be doing. Like I want to quit my job and spend the rest of my life doing this with you.”
“Guess what?” I whisper.
“What?”
“That’s what off-season’s for.”
A warm, mischievous smile brightens his face. “And there goes all incentive to win the series.”
I used to find the morning after I slept with someone cringey. Mostly because it was always a mistake. It was never my intent to stay over, to be small spoon, a man’s muscly arm my pillow as I slept. But as with everything when it comes to Ren, each morning since our first night has proved deliciously different.
I woke up to a hand slipping between my legs. Hot, warm kisses painting my neck. Another time, gently laid on my back. Others, turned on my stomach. Always a warm mattress beneath me, gentle hands massaging my stiff joints. An eager, already expert mouth and fingers and body spiraling me to glorious orgasms, sending light exploding beneath my eyelids just like the sun cresting the horizon.
That’s the first—and my favorite—part of our routine. The second is a morning walk, at least while the weather is warm enough.
I stroll along the sand, watching the ocean breeze whip Ren’s hair into a mad fury of sunrise-copper waves. I hold his arm to steady myself, and I feel my body loosen, my joints open with each step across firm, cool sand.
“I was out cold last night when you came home,” I tell him.
Ren glances down at me and smiles. “Oh, I know. I heard you snoring the moment I came in.”
I glare at him. “I’m congested.” His face tightens in concern. “Allergies, Zenzero.”
“Hm.” He glances away.
“How was Shakespeare Club?”
I almost died of the cuteness last night. I got my quiet night, curled up on the couch with Pazza, but first I got a goodbye from the sweetest dork that lives. There he was, a well-loved mass-market of As You Like It shoved in his back jeans pocket, massive tray of baked goods from Viggo tucked in his arms. And a secretive, delighted glint in his eye that I’d never seen before.
As if the universe is set to prove me wrong, Ren peers down at me, cat eyes crinkled with that same conspiratorial sparkle. Leaning to press a soft kiss to my temple, he murmurs, “It was fun.” The words buzz softly against my hair, before he straightens and glances ahead.
Pazza tears off after a gull, barking madly, and when it soars into the sky, she drops glumly to her haunches.
Watching her, I’m distracted from where I step, so when I hit a dip in the sand, my leg buckles, pitching me toward the water. Just before I anticipate an icy wake-up swim, I’m yanked back, a warm hand wrapped around my waist and hoisting me upright.
“Oof.” I bump into Ren’s chest, my hands reflexively fisting his shirt. Embarrassment heats my cheeks, and rather than meet his eye, I rest my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You okay?”
I nod, but a stupid tear rolls down my cheek. It’s the first time I’ve tripped like that in front of him, and it feels exposing. Indecently vulnerable.
Holding me close, he wraps both arms around me tight. Like he knows I need a minute.
“I’m tough,” I whisper.
He nods. “I know you are.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“You have,” he says. “You still do. You always will. I’ve just joined in, too. Now we take care of each other.”
I hiccup a stifled cry and press my forehead to his sternum. His chin fits exactly over my head. I feel his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
“Frankie?” he says quietly.
On a sniffle, I say, “Hm?”
Sliding one hand from my back, slowly down my arm, he holds out my hand, and interlaces our fingers. “Dance with me?”
I rear back enough to meet his eyes. He’s grinning, but there’s a blush on his cheeks. A look, I’m starting to learn, that he wears when he’s nervous. “Okay?”
Tucking me close in his grasp, Ren brings our joined hands to his chest. As he sways us, he hums softly in my ear. It’s warm and low. No melody I recognize, but it doesn’t matter. It’s beautiful all the same.
“You got ahead of me,” he says quietly. “Trying to do a dip before I’ve even asked you to dance.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “Søren.”
“Yes, Francesca.”
A long, silent moment holds between us as an unfamiliar force churns from the core of my body. A powerful, surging, unstoppable something, it roars through my chest, tearing through my heart. A lock slipping into place, it settles with a small, quiet, irrevocable click.
The door of my heart swings open, and out tumbles the most terrifying handful of words. Inside me, the irrefutable truth that clatters into place.
I love Ren.
That knowledge makes me feel free, weightless, as if Ren let go of me right now, I’d catch on the sea breeze and float serenely to the sky.
“What is it, buttercup?”
I turn my head enough to playfully sink my teeth into his pec. “You’ve got me all tied up. No nicknames when I can’t defend myself.”