Page 66 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar

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And my breath catches.

She’s here.

Thank the Fates, the gods, and the multiverse.

Okay—thank Uncle Uzzi and his Date to Mate app too.

Warm and soft and tangled up in me like she was always meant to be.

Her dark curls spill across my chest, and her thighs are tucked between mine.

She smells like dreams and citrus and something that’s only her.

Tamare.

My mate.

My unclaimed mate.

And somehow, the most intimate thing isn’t the wild sex we didn’t have last night.

It’s this.

Her sleeping in my bed, her fingers curled around my body.

Like I’m a lifeline.

Like she’s choosing this.

Choosing me.

You’d think not touching her while she’s right here—wrapped around me like a gift—would be torture.

But honestly?

It’s heaven.

She’s soft in sleep, mouth parted, breath warm against my skin. Her heartbeat hums in my chest like a song I never want to stop hearing.

Just when I think nothing can beat this?

Holy fuck.

Her fingers twitch.

And I realize something.

Her hand—her small, perfect, sleeping hand—is wrapped around my dick.

I freeze.

My pulse? Gone. It’s just a roar now.

Because she’s squeezing.

Not hard.

But just enough to make my hips stutter and a groan claw its way out of my throat.

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