Inside, the scent of baking lingered, bread, maybe.
He dropped his bag on the kitchen counter and kept prowling, one-track-minded.
He paused in the doorway of his primary, his gaze pulled toward the bed.
The lights were set at half mast, and on the edge, curled up into herself, was Soleil.
She’d fallen asleep with one arm flung over her stomach, the duvet kicked away, the hem of her shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of smooth skin.
One bare leg was tangled in the sheets, her lips parted in the soft rhythm of deep, trusting sleep.
A slow, overwhelming ache rose in his chest.
He needed to hold her.
Stripping down to his boxers, he padded over and slid under the covers. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and the moment his arms slipped around her, she stirred.
Her body stilled. Then she turned in his embrace. ‘Santi?’
Her voice was husky, scarcely audible.
He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, letting his lips brush the warm curve of her nape. ‘Hey,cariño,’ he murmured. ‘How are you?’
Her hand came up to stroke his forearm. ‘Better,’ she whispered.
His chest eased. ‘Good. That’s good.’
He exhaled, long and slow, and pulled her closer.
The tension he’d carried back from the prison began to melt beneath the comfort of her body pressed to his.
She shifted then, twisting in his embrace until they were face to face. Her fingers threaded into the hair at the base of his neck. Her eyes searched his, slow and tender.
Then she kissed him.
A kiss so soft, so long, so impossibly beautiful, it melted him. No urgency. No lust clawing. Just a connection so pure it almost hurt.
When she pulled away, her forehead rested on his. ‘Make love to me, Santi.’
His hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. ‘How could I refuse you,mi sol?’
He kissed her again, his glide over her lips hungry but restrained, a promise in every press.
They undressed each other, clothes sliding to the floor.
The lovemaking that followed was gradual, languid, laced with tenderness and deep-seated longing.
He stayed inside her gaze as much as her body, kissing her again, until her moans met his, tangled into the soft hush of the night.
They moved together like prayer.
And when she arched against him, whispering his name like a vow, Santi surrendered.
She was more than his resting place.
She was the calm after the storm, and the best peace he had ever experienced.
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