She cupped his face so he had to look right at her as she moved her hips in tandem with him, taking him deeper as he thrust in and out of her. It was like a switch was flipped. He crashed his mouth down onto hers, kissing her as he kept pushing into her, fucking her with everything he had until it was too much, and his orgasm slammed into him, turning the rest of the world dark except for Chelle.

Only her.

She was everything.

Once the rest of the world came back into focus, he rolled on his back and got rid of the condom, dropping it into the trash can in the bathroom, then climbed back into bed and pulled her close. For a second, she hesitated but then with a soft sigh curled up against him, laying her head in the pocket of his shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her words brushing against his skin as he wrapped an arm around her. “That’s why I came in here instead of my room. I wasn’t sure you’d want me to spend the night here together.”

“I will always want you to stay,” he said. “Go to sleep, Chelle.”

It wasn’t until he was still staring at the ceiling a half hour later that he realized the truth of the words. It settled down through his chest, hitting him square in the heart.

“Oh shit,” he grumbled to himself, then held his breath as Chelle mumbled something about having a magic potion before settling in to her steady sleep breathing.

He may have just been fucked, but he’d already fucked himself, because there was no way one time would be enough. Even worse, he was totally okay with that because being with Chelle—not just the sex, but actually being with her—was that good. Fuck that. Being with Chelle was amazing.

Outside, the snowstorm picked up, the wind making a sort of trilling sound when it hit the building that sounded a little too close to his grandma Betty’s laugh for comfort. His mom would say that was a sign. For once, he had to agree with her woo-woo ways, because he knew in that moment, he had his first doubt that he wouldn’t be winning the Last Man Standing bet.

And he didn’t give a shit.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chelle

It wasn’t like Chelle hadn’t left her bed all week—she definitely had—it’s just that she kept finding her way back there again and again and again. She blamed Nash’s double dimpler. How was she supposed to think of anything but a naked him when he had that unfair advantage?

She couldn’t.

She didn’t.

She had no regrets.