Page 46 of Dump Tackle My Heart
His strokes are so deep.
I feel him everywhere.
My eyes flutter, unable to stay open under the weight of everything he’s giving me.
My chest heaves as he drives into me with unwavering purpose, and my whole body quivers—like I’ve been reduced to one giant, exposed nerve ending.
I come again with a cry that melts into his name, and only then does he let go, groaning into the curve of my shoulder as his body jerks against mine in release.
“Oh, fuck, Sweetheart. You sucked the life from me with your sexy little body,” he murmurs, trying to catch his breath.
I can’t move. But I think I might be smiling.
That smile turns to a gasp when I feel him slide out of me, followed by our combined release.
We’re still tangled, our skin slick with sweat and the last embers of passion, but before I can grimace, he’s back, wiping me gently there with a tissue or a napkin, I think.
Once again, I’m shocked by his tenderness.
He kisses my shoulder and rolls me to my side, maneuvering us so he’s flat on the plush rug beside the fireplace and I’m using him as a pillow.
The flames crackle behind us, casting golden light across his bare chest and softening the sharp lines of his face.
I trace a finger down the edge of his jaw, and he catches it, presses a kiss into my palm.
This feels big.
And my breath hitches.
It’s like he knows and he pulls me close, curling his body around mine like he’s trying to shield me from the world.
One big, rough hand splayed protectively over my belly.
Like I’m something precious.
Like I’m his.
And I know I shouldn’t, but I let myself sink into it.
Just for a second.
“Still think Thanksgiving isn’t your holiday?” I murmur, my voice shaky, breath still shallow.
There’s a teasing lilt to the question, but it’s half-hearted. Because nothing about this feels casual anymore.
He presses another kiss to my temple, soft and warm, protective.
“Not anymore. Now I think it’s my favorite holiday,” he says quietly.
And just like that, something inside me cracks open.
I’m in trouble.
This weekend was supposed to be a stunt.
Just the job.
A promotional shoot with a little forced proximity and a fake story to boost the team’s profile.
