He’s slow and steady. I don’t look away. Our bodies move together with a perfect certainty. There are no desperate touches or fear-infused kisses, and we aren’t clinging to each other, holding on tight to the idea of something more.

We just are.

And maybe we always have been.

Dean holds me that night in steadfast arms, our bodies exquisitely entangled, relaxed and content. He holds me like a lover. Like my own, personal defender.

Like my savior.

After all, he saved me from a serial killer.

He saved me from an overdose.

He saved me from myself.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Corabelle.

A single sunbeam peeks through her lace drapes, lighting up the golden glints in her hair. She’s still asleep, as peaceful as I’ve ever seen her, and my heart constricts with each quiet breath. I’m trying not to be a total creep and stare at her, but I’m hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest, her slightly parted lips, and the way her eyelashes flutter as she dreams.

I’m painfully in love with this woman and I’ll be damned if I don’t soak up every fleeting moment with her while I’m here.

Her hands are tucked beneath her cheek and I swear there’s a tiny smile creasing her mouth. I can’t help myself—I lean in, placing a soft kiss against the corner of her lips. Cora stirs, nuzzling into her hands, her hair dipping down across her face as she moves. I brush it aside with my fingers, my touch lingering until her eyes blink open.

It takes a minute, but then her smile brightens as recognition and relief fill her eyes. “Hi,” she whispers, her voice cracked and sleepy.

“Hi.” Fuck, I could get used to this—waking up every morning to her drowsy, love-laced stare and rosy cheeks. “What were you dreaming about? You were smiling.”

Cora stretches out her arms, the bedsheet falling further down her hip and catching my attention. “Shakespeare.”

I squint at her. “Hmm. Is that code for all the new ways I used my tongue last night?”

She blushes, burying her face into the pillow with a laugh. I pull her to me until her nose is pressed to the top of my chest, her head right beneath my chin. Then I whisper against her hair, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

Cora lifts her head with a grin. “You know Shakespeare?”

“We’ve never met. But I do know a sexy English teacher who often quotes him.”

Her smile widens and she pecks a kiss to my chin. “I always used to think you were dumb, you know.”

I laugh as my hand trails down her arm and lands on her hipbone. “Yeah. You would get so fired up when I’d pretend not to know something. It was cute as hell.”

“You were the worst.”

“Incorrigible.”

Cora giggles as she wraps her leg around my thigh, her eyes twinkling. “We should make love. Then we should take the dogs for a long walk, come home and cook breakfast, and crawl back under the covers until you have to drive home.”