Page 85 of Almost Enough

“If you love my cock so much, Red, you can say it.”

Dammit. He’s just turning me on even more.

“Say it?” I tease, biting my lip, pushing him just a little more. “What if I don’t?”

His eyes catch fire. The moment I challenge him, his attention sharpens, that familiar hunger flaring to life like it’s been waiting for an excuse.

“If you don’t say it, Red, I’ll just have to make you prove it.” His grip on my waist tightens. “Maybe I’ll give you something else to think about. Something that makes it very hard for you to keep playing coy.”

I tsk, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face. “Promises, promises. I’m sure even you don’t have that much stamina, Sinclair. Surely your enchanted cock has to have a timeout built in by now.”

For a second, he just blinks at me. And then he laughs.

It’s not a quiet chuckle. Not one of those broody huffs I usually have to work for. No, this is a full-blown, head thrown back, chest rumbling, completely unfiltered laugh.

My heart seizes.

Beau is beautiful when he laughs. I watch the way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his shoulders shake, and a door I didn’t know was locked suddenly swings open.

This is what I’ve been waiting for. Not just the sex, not just the intensity of being claimed by him. But this. His laughter. The version of Beau that isn’t weighed down by whatever ghosts he carries.

He tips his head, still grinning. “You’re fucking impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” I shoot back, nudging my nose against his. “Cuddling me like I’m your favorite stuffed animal.”

He smirks. “You talk too much.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmur, curling in closer, satisfied down to my bones. “You love it.”

He doesn’t deny it.

I definitely fall asleep still smiling, and when I wake up, the first thing I feel is the hard planes of Beau’s chest pressed against my back, his body heat seeping into me. One arm is heavy across my waist, his slow, steady breaths the only sound in the room.

For a moment, I just lie there. Eyes closed. Soaking in the weight of him around me.

But then his arm slips away, and the bed dips as he moves behind me. Cold air rushes in where his body just was, and panic grips me before I can stop it.

Shit.

I know that feeling. The slow retreat. The silent withdrawal. I’ve seen it before—after closeness, after intimacy. When it starts to feel real, and suddenly I’m too much.

I keep my breathing even, pretending I’m still asleep, even though every nerve in my body is on high alert. My chest tightens, and the dread creeps in fast. Because last night? That didn’t feel casual. That felt like everything.

Then…the soft clink of a mug sounds. The quiet hiss of water comes next. A minute later, the scent of fresh coffee drifts into the room.

Just as I’m about to sit up, he walks back in. Shirtless, abs that look less gym membership and more like I lift heavy things on full display. His sweatpants are slung low on his hips, his dark hair is a mess, and he’s got a mug in each hand.

“Morning, Red,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He sets the coffees down on the nightstand and climbs back into bed like he never left. Like he didn’t just accidentally crack open every one of my insecurities.

“I made yours extra sweet. Unlike your attitude.”

I burst out laughing, the sound slipping free. Relief floods my system so fast it leaves me lightheaded. “You really do know me already. Should I be concerned?”

I reach for a mug and wrap both hands around it. One sip and—yep. Sweet enough to qualify as a controlled substance. Just the way I like it.

I hum my approval. “This is practically dessert. Are you trying to seduce me with coffee?”

He smirks. “Would it work?”