Chapter 12

With Remy’s thumb hooked around Marlow’s jawline, hips moving glacially, too slow to do more than torture them both, Marlow pressed a hand to the center of Remy’s chest and felt the steady beat of his heart.

“Thank you,” he said, not meaning to sound so cheesy, but he didn’t regret the words when they left him.

Remy stilled, like he’d never been thanked for sex before—which he probably hadn’t. Marlow doubted that was usually part of sexual banter, but he meant it. It wouldn’t have been like this with anyone else.

While they rocked, Remy pulled Marlow closer, letting their foreheads press together as he trailed the hand on Marlow’s face down, down, all the way, and gripped Marlow tight.

“Feel how wet you are, Marlow?”

“Uh huh.”

“Feel how wet you make me?” He grasped Marlow’s wrist and pulled his hand down, too.