Seven

SEVEN

O nce the Uber picked us up, I quickly realized we were not going in the direction of my place but his instead.

"I thought we had a plan."

"You really think we're waking up in the morning to do laundry?" he asked, as if that plan was ridiculous. "We'll be lucky if we get up before lunch."

He wasn't wrong. "I hate doin' laundry on Sunday," I grumbled at the same time I slipped my hand around the inside of his thigh.

The shudder in response, coupled with the softest inhale of breath, had me smiling like a simpleton, I was sure, but I hardly cared. Instead, I turned and kissed behind his ear. For that I got his hand on mine and him squirming in the seat and guiding my hand higher until I groped him through his dress pants, taking hold of what felt like iron with how hard he was.

"This feels amazin'," I whispered in his ear, "I can't wait to taste it and all the rest of you as well."

"Yeah?" His breathing was thready. "Gonna have me?"

"Is that a request or permission?" I asked hopefully, because more than anything, I wanted to take possession of him body and soul.

"Both," he husked, and I was certain my heart stopped right there.

I really needed the driver to hurry, but it was rude to ask. Lang had explained the etiquette of big-city ride sharing to me. "Look at me," I demanded in a rough whisper.

When he rolled his head to me, I noted his blown pupils, saw him lick his lips, and heard the softest, sweetest whimper.

"This time, you're gonna be mine, all right?"

"Won't I always be?"

"You're killin' me," I ground out, staring into his beautiful dark eyes. "But this time, in your bed, I want you under me. You understand?"

Slow nod, and he didn't take his eyes off my mouth.

As I leaned in, his eyes fluttered closed, and I felt his desire and craving and submission deep in my chest in a way I never did before. I'd wanted other men, but this was different. I had longed for this man, and yes, I wanted to devour him, but I wanted the forever even more. I knew my life would be set if only he would stay.

"Get out of your head," he said softly, and I felt his breath on my face. "Be here in the present with me."

And I would because while I could be unsure about me, I was not at all about him. I was very clear about what I wanted from Langston Ross.

Taking his mouth, I kissed him hard and long, feasting on his tongue, on his lips, and it was slow and drugging, heating my blood, making it pulse in my veins and pound in my ears.

When he had to breathe, he bit my bottom lip just hard enough for me to pull back a fraction. Instantly, my mouth went to his throat, and his moan was utterly decadent.

"Here we go," the driver announced, and I turned to look at him. "First date?"

"No," I said, but my voice didn't work, so I cleared my throat and repeated the word.

"Really?" The driver nodded. "Impressive."

On the sidewalk in front of Lang's home, as soon as he got out and joined me on the curb, I took his face in my hands. "Let me take care of you."

"Whatever you want," he muttered, and took a quick breath, in and out.

"Whatever I want?"

"Yes."

"Good." I kissed him gently, slowly, then eased back to look at him. "Now tell me why you had the driver bring us here instead of going to my place like we planned."

"I want you in my bed," he stated, clearly, so there could be no mistake. "That's why I changed our destination. I need you to understand what this means to me."

"I know what it means. You don't ever have anyone sleep overnight here with you."

"No, I don't. But you have to."

"So you made it your place so I'd know I'm important."

He nodded, and I grabbed him and hugged him. We stood there, holding on tight, until he mumbled something into my shoulder.

"What'd you say?" I asked softly.

"I said let's go in already. We're sweating our balls off out here."

"You're not even kiddin'." I smiled, and he laughed, which I loved the sound of. But he was so right. At nearly three in the morning, it was still hot.

Walking up the path toward the lobby of his building, I could hear the cicadas in the trees, the crickets in the bushes, and see gnats and mosquitos and moths hovering around the decorative lampposts every five feet.

His fob took us inside the upscale building with all the chrome and steel, and then to the elevator and up to the tenth floor. He used his key to unlock the door to his apartment, then held it open for me, which he didn't usually do.

"What was that?" I teased him.

"Don't make fun of me. I'm a gentleman when it's…and now it is."

"Now it is what?" I pressed him as he locked the door, then flipped the deadbolt before turning back to me.

"You know what it is," he said irritably.

"Tell me."

"We're going to date, idiot."

I scoffed. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean you don't know about that?"

I toed off my shoes because Lang did not like people tracking whatever into his house, and I didn't mind that. Why would you want to bring into your home all the crap you walked through in the course of a day on filthy city streets?

"Explain yourself," he insisted, crouching down and unlacing his dress shoes to get them off.

I walked into his place and then turned to talk to him, instantly surprised at how close he was. I tried to sidestep, but he crowded me, bumping me back into one of the built-in bookshelves on either side of the short entrance hallway.

"Tell me now," he demanded.

"It's more than datin', ain't it?"

"Meaning?" He stared into my eyes, his hands on my sides, keeping me still, not allowing me to move away from him.

"Meanin', you date to see if you like someone, right? Well, you already like me, more than a bit, so datin' ain't needed at all. What I figure is we're gonna be together until one of us don't like it no more."

"Oh." He exhaled sharply.

And that fast I was terrified. "Unless that's not what you?—"

"No," he rushed out. "That's good. Starting is exactly what we should do."

I stared into those dark eyes I knew so well. "If you decide you want to see someone else, you tell me first. That's only fair," I told him. "I'll do the same."

"Why are you trying to end us before we even get started?"

"I'm not endin' nothin'," I snapped at him. "We need to be clear is all."

"Can we be clear in the shower?"

He wasn't wrong. We were both covered in sweat, and though we'd both showered before going out for the night, that was many hours ago at this point.

I shoved him back, not hard, but enough to get him to budge, and then, moving fast, I crossed the living room and went into his bedroom. I flipped the switch that turned on the recessed lights, and I was walking by the bed, headed toward the bathroom, when he shoved me sideways and I toppled onto the quilted comforter.

Sitting up, I smiled at him as he began to pace at the end of the bed. "What was that about?"

"I want to say something."

I wanted him showered so I could attack him, but it seemed he had things he needed to get off his chest. "Go ahead, then."

He cleared his throat. "I'm not tripped up because you're a man," he told me, continuing to pace. "What's messing with me is you being my friend."

"Stop movin'," I said, chuckling, "and tell me what that means."

"I have moves. There are usually moves."

"Oh God no," I muttered, lying back on the bed. "I'm so terrified right now."

"What?" came the mock indignance, and the laughter bubbled up out of me. "This is exactly what I was worried about," he growled. "You laughing at me."

"I'm laughin' at how stupid you're bein'. Why on earth would you need moves with me? Just be you. That's all I want."

"But see, seduction is one thing, and you're another."

"That makes no sense."

"It does, though. I can't mess up and have you reconsider our friendship," he said, climbing on the bed and lying down beside me. "That can't happen."

I rolled my head to the left so I could see him. "No matter what, we'll still be friends."

"Not if I break your heart."

"And why would you do that?"

"You fall madly in love with me, and I meet someone else."

"Is that what you're really worried about?" I asked, knowing, of course, that the reverse was true. He was forgetting that, unlike anyone else I'd ever met in my life, I knew him better than myself. His brain had always made perfect sense to me.

"No," he confessed, his voice cracking.

"What, then?"

"That you could do better."

Here was the heart of the matter, and I needed to make myself clear. "Do you honestly think there's anyone better for me than you?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering himself, and then sighed deeply and opened them. "No. I'm the best thing for you."

"I know that," I said, slipping my hand around the side of his neck, staring into all that melting brown. "So why would I ever look away from you? Why would I ever need anyone else?"

"You're the only one I think about," he admitted, his voice hoarse and thick. "You're the singular person I want to be around all the damn time. I can't imagine it not being you lying here beside me from now on. But I just, I've never needed…anything from…" He stopped suddenly and pushed my hand off him, sitting up, ready to leave the bed. "Forget it. Let's go get in the?—"

"No," I warned him, and he froze, staring at me. "Lie down."

Immediately, he settled back beside me, closer than before, his gaze locked with mine.

"First off, we never push our hands off each other. That's your rule, remember?"

"Yeah, I—I wasn't thinking."

"Because why? Why weren't you thinkin'?"

He inhaled deeply. "This is a lot, right? Us, I mean. Being like this."

"It's a lot of honesty. And not more than we normally feel, but so much more than we've ever had to put into words."

"Yes. Oh God, yes."

I smiled at him. "You sound relieved."

"I…we met and I liked you right off, then we became us, Ross and McCabe, and it's been so easy. So seamless. You fit into my life, beside me, like you've always been there, and there's never been a need to put a name to us, to what we are, other than partners."

"Yes."

"But now suddenly, with this—and I want this," he rushed out, to be certain I knew, "don't question that—but we're changed."

"Yes, we are," I agreed. "And so because of that, because it's me, you need what?"

He looked confused. "I don't understand what you're asking."

"Yes, you do. Tell me."

His eyes searched my face.

"Go on," I prodded him.

"I—it's stupid and?—"

"It's not stupid. What do you need from me that you didn't need from any of the others?"

He sucked in a breath. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Figure out what I was trying to say? Are you a mind reader?"

"With you, I'm pretty close." I smiled at him.

"That's what I mean. You get me, you know me, but because you do, and this is more…see, usually I don't need to… but with you––"

"You need somethin' more," I concluded, certain I was right.

"Yeah. You have to tell me you want me. I need the words. You're gonna have to say how you feel all the time, and that sounds so weak and?—"

"No," I soothed him, rolling to my side, taking his face in my hands. "No one had to tell you anythin' before because it didn't matter, you didn't care. But now you do."

His eyes filled fast, and I understood. For one, it was very late, or very early—either way, it had been a long-ass day. And for two, this was new for both of us, a lot of emotion running back and forth between us like current through a wire.

"So you know, I feel the same."

"You do?" He sounded surprised.

"Of course. It's all well and good to say yeah, actions speak louder'n words, but we have our voices for a reason, and one of 'em is to tell the person we love what they mean to us."

He was staring at me so hard.

"And though I do in fact think of myself as a bit of a mind reader where you're concerned," I said gently, playfully, "I don't rightly know all the things that are in your heart unless you tell me."

"Yes."

"And I'll do the same. Because I've wanted to say, but I've been too scared."

"You've been scared to say what?"

"I'll tell you in the shower," I rumbled before kissing him, a quick brush of my lips over his, then let him go and sat up. "Come on."

I rolled off the bed and stood there watching him, so entranced for a moment, admiring this beautiful man who now belonged to me, that I was surprised when he nearly took a header because he didn't quite get his feet under him.

"You all right?" I baited him.

If looks could kill.

"Man, you are tired," I continued goading him, chuckling, but went mute as soon as he started pulling off his clothes.

"So what if I—what are you doing?" He stopped with his shirt off, hands on his belt.

"I'm lookin' at you." I saw the flush hit his cheeks, and I moved close, crowding him. "You like knowin' I think you're gorgeous."

"You think I never noticed you looking at me, but I did, and I liked it."

Using every drop of self-control I had in me, I turned and left him, striding into the adjoining bathroom, which was, as I'd noticed when I first visited, utterly cavernous. Double sinks, a shower so big there were jets on three sides, a bench, and shelving, and beside it, a tub big enough for two. Across from that, where initially there'd been a vanity, he changed out for a closet with a full-length mirror, shelves, and an area where he hung his robes—one for when he got out of the shower, and one to lounge in. He was so much more organized than I was, but really, if I had a luxury-hotel shower, I could be as well. Above the sinks were mirrors on sliding doors that hid shelves where he kept more products than any one person needed. But that was a conversation for another day. At the moment, all I cared about was stripping down and standing in the jets of water. Finally, he walked in.

"What took you so long?" I croaked out since he came into the room naked.

I'd seen him with his shirt off before. I'd seen him in the morning with only his sleep shorts on. It was easy enough to connect the dots in my head and imagine how beautiful the man had to be, but it was not the same as seeing him completely, just sleek skin over hard, toned, chiseled muscles. And more than anything else, the long, thick, cut cock hanging between his granite thighs.

"I needed a moment before I followed you," he admitted. "I've never even thought about going down on a man, but the way you were looking at me, I was thinking I would very much like to try."

A thought occurred to me then. "Please tell me you have some kind of lube in this house."

I loved the look I got, like I really was so stupid.

"It's another reason I wanted to go to my place," I told him. "I have that there."

"Well, some women like it too, and I love it," he said, his eyes heating fast. "So when desires match, I have to be ready."

"Well, I have a favorite lube, and I'll show you," I said, soaping up his natural sea wool sponge that looked like it would be rough but was the softest thing I'd ever used on my skin. Whenever I showered at his place, I used one of them. He changed them out quite a bit. "Come in here already, will ya?"

He was inside fast, and I turned on him, watching the warm water hit his skin.

"You like looking at me."

"Yes," I husked, using the sponge on him, his chest, down his legs, circling back for his cock and balls, missing nothing, no crevice, before turning him around and bending him over, hands on the bench. I held open the cheeks of his firm, round ass.

"Is all this necessary?" he asked irritably. "We could be out already and in bed."

"Out of the amazin' shower?" I said with a chuckle, pushing him into the spray as I put more soap on the sponge and washed myself, watching as he did his hair, using all his good-smelling, ridiculously priced hair-care products. At home, I had a shampoo and conditioner in one. He'd been horrified when he saw it, and even more terrified when he read the ingredient list. Apparently, it was lucky I still had hair.

Squeezing the sponge, putting it back only because he liked things a certain way, I then turned off the water and shoved him out.

"Watch it," he groused. "Do you know how many people die in—Del!"

The incredulous shout was because I dropped to my knees on his very thick bathmat, and in one seamless glide, took his semi-erect cock down the back of my throat.

"Holy fuck," he groaned as I sucked and laved, using my teeth carefully, using my tongue sloppily, and making sure his balls were given attention, as well as his taint.

He had to grab hold of the towel bar, which was not your average, flimsy one put in with drywall screws. This one easily took his weight and kept him on his feet.

Once I had my hand around his club of a cock that was now fully hard and leaking, I made the suction powerful, my grip tight, and kept my rhythm steady.

"Del," he said, my name sounding like a prayer as he tangled his fingers in my hair. "There's a bed. I have a bed."

Letting his dick slip out of my mouth, sliding over my lips, the long string of saliva was apparently too tempting not to touch from the way his fingers slipped into my mouth. Immediately, I sucked on them.

"I can't keep standing."

Rising fast, I grabbed his hand and a towel hanging on the shower-door bar, then led him back to his bedroom. I spread the towel quickly to cover the quilt so he wouldn't get it wet, then toppled him back so his feet were on the ground, knees bent over the end of the bed as he parted his legs for me. He looked so good, offering himself as I knelt and swallowed his cock again.

I liked him moaning my name. It was a good sound and got better as I kept sucking, loving the silky feel of him, his taste, drawing the head of his cock further into my mouth.

His fingers returned to my hair, tugging but not hard. Not with any real insistence. "If you keep… Del."

I knew. That fast, as ready as he was, his orgasm was thrumming under his skin, the yearning, the build nearly too much. He had watched me at first, seen my lips stretch around his cock, but now, he was arching up to meet me, lifting up off the bed at the same time I bore down.

"Fuck," he swore and came hard, spurting in my mouth.

I gulped around him, drinking him down, not moving as he pushed into me, his hand fisted in my hair so I couldn't move away.

It took long moments for his eyes to flutter open. "Jesus, that was so rough and hard and perfect," he whispered, slowly relaxing his back, sliding over my tongue, slipping from my mouth as he lay panting under me.

Quickly, I licked him from balls to head, grinning as he gasped, staring at him, watching his chest rise and fall in rapid succession.

"I wasn't gentle with you," he got out between rough breaths.

"No," I replied with a leer, getting up off the floor, climbing over him, and staring down into his eyes. I licked my lips. "You taste good."

Lifting his hand, he hooked it around the back of my neck. "You attacked me and I loved it. Del, baby, that was fuckin' amazing."

I chuckled, and I could hear how filthy it sounded.

"Oh, please kiss me," he husked. "Kiss me now."

Leaning close, hovering, I traced the tip of my tongue over his top lip.

"Come closer."

"I want all of you," I rumbled.

"You should see yourself with your eyes barely open and cum on your mouth," he said, and I could hear the desire in his ragged voice. "You look like you want to eat me."

I grinned slowly.

"I'm all yours."

I kissed him deeply then, tasting him, rubbing my tongue over his, sucking it, mauling his mouth, grinding our lips together, sealed tight.

The kisses went on, the desire endless to have him, there, under me, writhing, the hunger building in him evidenced by his arms wrapping around my neck, holding me close, tight against him, not letting me go, kissing me back, his body stirring, needy all over again.

Turning his head, gulping air, he was panting as I gently bit his earlobe and said, "Let me go and roll over."

His arms fell to his sides, and I lifted off him, watching as he moved like his body was weighted, heavy, before I crawled up the bed to the nightstand and retrieved the lube. It was thicker than I liked for myself, but for his first time, it was great.

"Come up here," I ordered, and he moved on hands and knees, just as I had, until he reached me.

Shoving his face down into one of the many throw pillows on the bed, I moved behind him, lifted his ass in the air, parted his cheeks, and licked slowly over his hole.

There were loud, guttural words muffled by the soft burlap, and when I did it again, I felt a tremor run through his frame.

"I'm thinkin' you like that."

Muffled cursing then, before I pressed my tongue inside him. He didn't know, had no idea; these weren't the things we discussed as friends. But now, as lovers, he would learn that I loved rimming, the slow readying, the softening of clenched muscles, taking my time. And yes, I wanted to slick my cock and shove into his body, but this was the man I loved, whom I breathed for, and I would make sure he was ready. That was the only way it could be.

In and out, coating him in saliva, making circles with my tongue, using my hand now to stroke his swollen length, loving the satin feel of his skin in my palm.

"Del," he growled. "Please, baby, I'm ready. Grease up the pole, and get that inside me."

"What did you say? Grease up the what?" I snickered.

He whimpered. "Fuck me. I need—I'm so ready." Hearing the cap of the lube open, he lifted to his hands and knees. "Del. Please."

"I'm gonna go slow." I coated two fingers and then gently, tenderly, pushed them inside him, stopping when they were buried to the first knuckle, waiting, not moving, wanting him to get used to the feeling.

When he tried to shove back, I didn't let him, moving with him, not wanting to hurt him.

"Now, Del," he demanded, his voice cracking and then hoarse. "I want you now."

Taking him at his word, I quickly slathered my length, lifted on my knees, and lined up the head of my almost painfully hard cock with his hole. I slid a hand over his back as I pressed forward, feeling his muscles stretch and then clench around me even as the lube allowed for the slow, steady breach.

His breath was starting and stopping, and when I was fully seated, I put both hands on his hips and stilled, letting him adjust to having me buried in his ass.

"Tell me when you want me to?—"

"Move," he pleaded, and I had never heard his voice sound like that, sweet and scary at the same time. "Now."

I didn't move a muscle other than my dick throbbing inside him.

"Del, your body is strong and powerful, so please, let me feel that. I would never let you hurt me. You know better. So you gotta…oh," he moaned, letting his head fall forward as I slid back, barely, then snapped my hips forward.

He felt so good. Beyond good. Incredible. "Your ass is perfect outside and in," I told him, hands on his back, then his sides, touching his skin, loving the feel of him, savoring the goose bumps, gasping as his muscles rippled around my length. "You're so tight and hot and I never want to move."

"You need to move right fuckin' now," he demanded, sounding almost angry.

I pulled back further, then drove forward faster, harder, and that action was greeted with a whole-body shiver and a moan of loud, carnal pleasure.

He wanted me.

"Don't stop. Have me."

And I more than wanted him.

I lost myself in seconds. What began tentatively, hesitantly, became me hammering inside him, pounding deep and hard, holding on to his shoulder and his hip, anchoring him to me so I could thrust and retreat in an endless loop of pleasure.

When he looked over his shoulder, needing me closer, wanting to see me, I slipped free, rolled him quickly to his back, curling him up, lifting his legs over my shoulders before I sank down into him, a moan of happiness crawling out of my throat.

"You want me," he murmured, one hand sliding up my bicep to my shoulder, the other gripping my thigh tight.

"Always, but it's so much more than that."

"You want to keep me," he said under his breath.

His eyes were wet with tears, and as I'd wiped my own away with the back of my hand, I knew I probably looked the same. Sometimes absolute happiness was euphoric and heart-wrenching at the same time. At the moment, we were both emotionally annihilated. That's what came from epiphanies. I knew, without question, what I was supposed to be doing for the rest of my life, and that was loving Langston Ross. That included pistoning inside of him, not stopping until his muscles clenched around me so tight I nearly howled, the line between pleasure and pain razor thin.

My name sounded good on his lips as he came for the second time that night, coating his stomach as I fucked him through his orgasm, and mine, finally emptying inside him.

It took long moments before I realized Lang was talking to me.

"No condom," he declared, breathing heavily.

"Not with us."

"Never," he agreed, and his head fell back, our bodies no longer straining together, trying to become one.

Gently, I slid one leg off my shoulder, then the other, bending his knees as I eased carefully free of his body.

"Lemme get a washcloth and?—"

"No, stay and lie here with me."

"Baby, there's cum leakin' from your ass all over your comforter."

"I don't care," he said, sounding annoyed. "Where did the towel go?"

"I think it's on the floor."

"Whatever. Move the duvet, and we'll wash it tomorrow."

It was funny. Normally he liked things a certain way, but sex, it seemed, changed all that. "You need to get up. I can't pull it out from under you."

He lifted up for a moment, enough time for me to throw the cover back, and then he moved toward the headboard, hurling throw pillows in every direction off the bed. Pulling down the flat sheet and lightweight blanket, he was under both in seconds.

Having crawled after him, I enjoyed seeing the flush on his skin, the sweat, and see his body trembling with slight aftershocks. Mine was doing the same, the twinges of release still tumbling through me. "Since when do you sleep naked?"

"Just for tonight," he rumbled. "Get the lights, and then come here."

Reaching over to flip off the lamp on the nightstand, I was surprised how dark it was in the room until I realized the blinds were drawn.

Once I was under the covers, I rolled to my left so we were face-to-face. "Comfy sheets," I complimented him.

"They should be," he grumbled, reaching out to touch my hair, my cheek, and finally rest his hand on the side of my neck. "The bed's nice too, isn't it?"

"Much better'n mine, no question."

"Good. I'm glad you like it because you'll be in it a lot."

"Will I?"

"All the time."

"Yeah?"

His resigned whine made me smile. "Can you just agree and not banter?"

"You like banter."

"Not about stuff like this."

"Stuff like what?"

"Us stuff."

I chuckled. "Us stuff?"

"Stop. And agree."

"Fine."

He sighed deeply, like me giving in made him happy.

I took a breath. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. That being said, I will be sore in a new way tomorrow than I ever have been before, and look forward to being so again."

"You do?"

"Screaming your name should clue you in that you're good in bed."

"So are you, my friend."

He grunted softly.

"It's probably gonna take me a minute when we get back to work to not touch you inappropriately when we're together."

"Please. I've seen Redeker turn to Callahan to get something wiped off his lip when they're eating lunch with all of us. I think we'll be fine."

"Okay, good," I said with a sigh.

"And besides, the only thing anyone really cares about"—he yawned—"is something happening and we can't be partners anymore."

"But that couldn't happen."

"I can't imagine a scenario where it would, but my brain has shut down at this point."

I chuckled.

"You know what my mother says."

"Yep. Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet, you're invitin' trouble."

"That's right. And we shouldn't worry about things going wrong anyway. Let future us deal with that if it ever happens."

"Okay," I said, scooching closer. "Tell me the truth: do you feel any different havin' bottomed?"

"No. Why would I? That's an antiquated notion."

"Good. That's good. Just checkin'."

"Well, bed is supposed to be a safe space, so whatever I want should be game on."

I smiled at him in the dark. "Yes, it should."

"Okay."

"Okay." I exhaled and kissed him, then rolled over on my right side with my back to him.

After a moment he said, "What the hell was that?"

I snickered.

"That was my good-night kiss?"

"Yes. Go to sleep."

He was quiet a few moments. "I want another kiss."

"Why don't you come on over here and put your arm around me." His breath caught; I heard it easily. "No? You don't want to?"

"No, I…do," he whispered, and suddenly he was there, his chest plastered to my back, his groin pressed to my ass, his thighs as well. His arm slipped around my waist, his hand on my abdomen. "You can sleep like this?"

"Of course. Why?"

"I normally get told this is too close. Smothering."

"Yeah, but I have bad dreams," I reminded him like I couldn't have with anyone else. "And when I wake up next to you, that'll be good."

I got a kiss on my shoulder then.

"Don't get me wrong, you bein' in bed with me is great, but this, havin' you wrapped around me…will be perfect."

"Good," he intoned, his lips on my nape, his bicep sliding under the pillow, supporting my head. "You okay?"

"I can't remember ever bein' better."

His sigh was long before he rubbed his face in my hair. "We're going to be so good together."

And I really had no doubt.