Page 75 of You Owe Me

Rumor has it, I woke up with nothing but regret and a plan.

Ainsley

I’m a little hungover, but not drunk.

Instead, I’m ravenous.

Not for food—heavens no. The thought of eggs makes me vaguely nauseous and mildly offended.

I’m ravenous for him.

For the way he smells when he’s still half-asleep and warm. For the low sounds he makes when he forgets to guard himself. For the peace I only feel when I’ve got my palm flat on his chest and my body tucked into the places he makes soft just for me.

I open my eyes slowly, light bleeding in through the sheer curtain like it’s trying not to be rude.

He’s still asleep.

Flat on his back, one arm thrown above his head, mouth slightly parted, face relaxed in a way that only happens when he thinks I’m not watching. His chest rises in steady, even breaths, and the blanket’s already halfway down his abs.

I bite my lip.

Because damn.

Every inch of him looks carved. Sharp. Intentional.

Except for his hand resting near mine. That part is soft. Open. Vulnerable.

That part kills me.

I shift quietly under the covers, careful not to wake him yet. My fingers find the hem of the blanket and slip it down further—just enough.

I don’t do this for forgiveness. Or to prove a point.

I do it because I want to.

Because last night, he sat next to my ridiculous kiddie pool meltdown like it was sacred ground.

Because he didn’t demand a confession I wasn’t ready to give.

Because he deserves to wake up knowing that I remember every inch of him. That I choose him—even hungover, mascara-smeared, and full of unresolved trauma.

My hand drifts lower, under the sheet. Lightly, just a whisper of contact over the ridge of his stomach.

He shifts slightly but doesn’t wake.

Good.

Because I want this moment to be mine first.

I move carefully, lips brushing over his chest. A kiss. Then another. My mouth trailing down slowly, reverently, like I’m memorizing a path I already know by heart.

His abs tense under me, and I smile against his skin.

Still asleep.

Still him.

I slip lower, under the sheet, between his legs. My hands on his hips now. My mouth replacing my fingers with slow, deliberate kisses.

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