Page 303 of A Taste of Vanilla

“A little ache, but it’s a good ache.”

“I love you,” he says suddenly.

I close my eyes, the words hitting too hard. “I love you too.”

He kisses me once more, then withdraws carefully.

He gets up, goes to the bathroom, and comes back with a damp cloth. He pauses beside the mattress.

“May I?”

I nod.

He cleans me gently, and the contrast makes me tear up. The same hands that just held me open and made me beg are moving softly over my thighs and the tender place between my hips. He’s not awkward about it. Maybe that comes with age. He’s not clinical about it, either. He treats this like it’s part of sex.

When he finishes, I catch his wrist and pull him down beside me. “No clothes.”

He smirks. “Why?”

“I want a naked tattooed man in my bed.”

“I can help with that.”

He settles beside me and lies on his back as I curl into him, settling my head on his chest, one leg over his. His skin is hot beneath my cheek.

I trace the script over his ribs.

“Measure twice, leave once.”

He chuckles.

“I think we need a new one.”

His chest shifts beneath me. “Do we?”

“Yeah.”

“What would it say?”

I think for a moment, and then smile against his skin.

“Room for chaos.”

A laugh bursts out of him.

A real one.

Naked, relaxed, and emotionally available Warren laughter.

I lift my head in triumph. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You laughed.”

“I’ve laughed before.”

For a while, we lie there without filling the silence. Downstairs, the bar hums faintly beneath us. A burst of laughter rises, followed by a soft shout of what I can only imagine is Oliver complaining.