Page 71 of One More Chance
She nodded. Her breathing shook. “That was… fuck.”
I smiled, kissed her temple, and whispered, “Good fuck?”
Her laugh was weak, but real. “You think?”
I undid each restraint, slow and careful and she curled into me the second she was free, limbs trembling, chest still heaving.
“You’ve made me feel more than I thought was possible,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I kissed her forehead, my hand brushing down her back. “My soul only belongs to you.”
And it was true. I felt at peace.
There was a pause, soft and full of afterglow, then she added dryly, “You know, it won’t be like that every time.”
I laughed, catching the teasing lilt in her voice. “Well then, we better celebrate this rare phenomenon accordingly.”
She raised an eyebrow. “With food. Obviously. I’m starving.”
I reached for my phone like a knight drawing a sword. “Book boyfriend accepts the quest. Retrieval of sustenance is underway!”
She snorted. “What’s the ETA on said heroic delivery, my champion? Because I’m imagining pancakes.”
I pretended to scroll with great importance. “Our options are limited, milady, but your champion shall secure the fluffiest stack in the kingdom. Thank goodness for delivery services.”
Sloane’s quiet laugh filled the room, warm and unguarded. “God, I missed this.”
“Me too,” I said, glancing over with a smile. “Especially being called a champion. Might put that on my résumé.”
Chapter 24
We talked softly in the kitchen, the quiet, intimate sound a stark contrast to the late hour, both our hair damp from the recent shower.
It was nearing 2 a.m. and the faint glow of the oven light cast long shadows across the room. I was in the middle of grabbing a bowl of cereal after our failed food delivery. Sloane didn't think she could handle any of the greasy food options and instead chose to nibble on some crackers, her tired eyes still carrying a trace of warmth from the night we’d spent together.
“I knew you’d go for the cereal,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“It was either this or those weird freezer-burnt fish sticks the kids pretend to love.”
She arched a brow. “You could’ve made toast.”
“I thought about it,” I said, pouring the cereal into a bowl, “but then I remembered we’re out of butter. And I wasn’t about to disgrace your toaster like that.”
She chuckled under her breath, a sound that did dangerous things to my cock. “How considerate.”
I leaned against the counter, spoon in hand. “You doing okay?”
She paused, chewing slowly. “I think so. My body feels… sore. But not in a bad way.”
I swallowed a laugh. “Emotional yoga?”
She rolled her eyes. “You and that metaphor.”
“It’s accurate. You’re stretching parts of your heart you haven’t used in a while. Probably wondering if I’m going to drop you mid-pose.”
She gave me a long look, equal parts fond and skeptical. “That was almost poetic. Who are you and what have you done with Levi ‘Avoidance Is a Coping Skill’ Shaw?”
I smirked. “He’s still here. But he’s been benched. The new guy’s giving this whole accountability thing a try.”
