Rebecca
I wake with my head buried in a pillow that smells like both of us, like sweat, and salt, and something for which there is no polite name. The sun is barely up, but even through my eyelids I see the pale light coming through the curtain.
My body is still achy from hours of love making last night. I stretch, and his arm tightens reflexively around my waist, drawing me backward into the heat of him.
In the same moment, his hand slides down, palm flat against my belly as if staking a claim, then further to cup me between the legs. He moves his fingers with a goddamn surgeon's patience, parting me with the barest pressure, thumb already finding the secret part of me that wants him most.
A jolt of disbelieving pleasure cuts through the fog of sleep. I am still slick and open from the night before.
