He straightened his legs in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. He rested his hands loosely on his upper thighs. He dropped his head to rest against the back of the chair.

And he forced his eyes to close.

Chapter Three

Cocky

Delilah

I was on my back in the leaves, the stars overhead, Abel’s hands curved around my ribs, yanking me down, his face between my legs.

He was sucking, deep and hungry, at my clit.

Glorious.

He stopped and buried his tongue inside.

My lips parted and my back arched. His fingers tightened and he drove me down harder on his mouth.

Yes.

His mouth opened on my clit again, tongue lapping, then came the suction.

I dug my heels in his back, feeling it coming, knowing it was going to be sublime.

He stopped, surged over me, his tongue bathing my neck, his cock ramming inside.

I felt his teeth tear through, my blood surging into his mouth, and my climax was on me.

“Abel, baby,” I moaned.

* * * * *

“What?”

My eyes opened and I immediately blinked at the unknown pillowcase my head was resting on.

“What?”

The question came again. I looked beyond the pillowcase and saw him sitting back in the armchair, the light next to him on, his legs straight, ankles crossed, head up, eyes open and on me.

And it hit my foggy mind for the first time that he was beautiful, every lean, scarred, amazing inch of him.

“What?” I parroted sleepily.

He lifted up and forward, bending his knees and putting his elbows to them, his gaze never leaving me.

“You called my name,” he told me.

“I did?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“I was asleep.”

He studied me with a look in my still-hazy-with-sleep mind that seemed a mingling of intent, amused and pained.

But all he said was “Yeah.”

I pushed up to a forearm, lifting my hand to pull the hair away from my face, watching him watch my hand do this and also seeing the pain intensify on his features.

Weird.

I dropped my hand and his eyes followed it before they moved back to my face.

When they did, I asked, “I was talking in my sleep?”

“You said, ‘Abel, baby.’”

Oh shit.

His head tipped to the side. “Good dream?”

“I…I don’t remember.” And I didn’t, for which I was glad, but also kinda not.

“Too bad,” he muttered, pushing to his feet and moving toward the bathroom area.

I shifted up to a hand in the bed, pulling the covers to my chest as I did so even though I was in his shirt, which was way big on me and provided excellent coverage.

In this position, I watched him go to the medicine cabinet, open it, and take something out, then turn and walk back to me, all the while talking.