Chapter Thirty-Seven: Morning

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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Morning

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Ophelia:

Mm.

Oh my gosh.

I am so sore.

My body is plastered against Luke's. I stir in his arms as morning light streams through the slats of his closed blinds, and the first thing I notice is how tender and achey the space between my legs is.

Ugh.

Does sex always feel like this after? Gosh, I hope not.

It's a full, stretched sensation that makes me feel... well. Uncomfortable but, somehow strangely satisfied, too. The slight throbbing is an undeniable reminder of what happened between us last night. My face flushes with heat just thinking about it.

He was on top of me, inside me.

Oh my goodness, we had sex.

Twice.

And then after our midnight snack, we ended up back on his bed and fooled around some more. He peeled off my shirt and I tugged his pants down and then I gave Hamlet lots of kisses, and Luke gave Ophelia lots of kisses too.

Okay, yeah, that sounds really stupid but I honestly think it's hilarious.

And, for the record, sleeping completely naked next to Luke is just amazing. Our legs tangled, our skin stuck together, arms wrapped around each other, my head against his chest. Feeling his breathing, the beating of his heart. It's so intimate.

He's all mine.

"Mm," Luke grumbles—a low, gruff sound that hums right through my body and makes something between my legs tingle.

How can I feel so raw and turned on down there at the same time?

He turns lazily onto his side and gathers me closer, his eyes still shut with sleep as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck. My heart quivers.

Uh. And, Hamlet's awake. Very, very awake.

I feel Luke's hardness brush against my stomach as our bodies press tight together. His skin is feverish, his breathing deep. He smells kinda earthy and dark and masculine. He's so... Luke.

I stroke my hand tenderly through his messy hair and he moves a bit, the unshaven scruff of his jaw scraping against my shoulder. Mm. His long, dark eyelashes tickle my neck and I just feel so... warm and bright and happy.

When we get married someday, I'll get to wake up next to him every single morning, for the rest of my life.

One of my hands floats over the back of his head and the other caresses the smooth skin of his shoulder-blades as his head rests against the top of my breasts, crushed against my sternum.

Then he starts to wake up, shifting a little. His heavy eyelids slowly blink themselves open. His hands squeeze my hips. One of his palms drifts to the small of my back, and sparks rush down my spine as he presses me closer to him so my chest arches up to meet his face. He grazes a gentle kiss to the valley of my breasts, then to the very tip of each peaked, pink nipple, a small, foggy growl vibrating from the back of his throat.

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