Page 111 of Ransom
When I came back, he was draped against me with all his weight on my chest. The lamp was still burning. The rain was still going. The cat was still ignoring us from the chair.
I kissed the side of his neck. "You okay?"
"I think you broke me, darlin'," he mumbled, but he was smiling.
I tipped him forward off my lap as gently as I could and eased out of him. He hissed once through his teeth, and I kissed the back of his neck for it.
"Stay there."
"Couldn't move if I wanted to."
I climbed off the bed onto the cold floor, crossed to the dresser, pulled the cloth I kept in the second drawer, ran it under warm water at the sink, and came back. The cat watched me the whole way with the flat affront of a cat who suspects she's been kept up too late on her own bed. I gave her a look back. She did not look impressed.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and rolled Winston onto his back. His eyes were half closed, his hair stuck to his forehead, a smear of his own cum drying on his stomach. He looked wrung out and happy about it. I cleaned him up roughly, stomach first, then the rest of him, while his cock softened. He shivered once when I carefully cleaned the head of his cock and let out a small, contented sigh.
When I was done, I dropped the cloth on the floor and stretched out next to him on my side. He turned his face toward me. I tipped his chin up and kissed him.
He kissed me back, lazy with it, the corner of his mouth catching on mine. He laughed a little against my mouth.
"You all right?" I asked.
"I'm so all right I might never speak again."
"That'd be a shame."
Winston cracked one eye open at me. "For who, exactly?"
"For me." I kissed him again. "I like the talking."
"Liar."
"Some of the talking."
"More truthful." He flattened his palm on my chest, over the heart. "Ransom."
"Yeah?"
His eyes were soft in the lamplight, the smartass gone out of him entirely. He looked at me the way he'd looked at me in this room when he'd told me he wasn't going back to Texas, his face unguarded, his eyes wet at the bottoms but not falling.
"I love you, darlin'," I said.
He stopped under my hand.
"Say it again."
"Love you."
"That's not — say it again."
"Winston Valverde, I love you."
His fingers curled against my skin. He shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were wet, and he didn't try to hide it.
"Took you long enough to say it again."
"It's been six hours."
"Six hours is a long time, Ransom."
