Sienna

The room smelled like sweat and heat, the sheets a mess around us. My chest still rose and fell too fast, my skin damp, my body sore in the best way. Jaxon was lying half on me, half on the pillow, his arm draped over my stomach, his fingers lazily tracing circles there.

I let out a small laugh, the kind that came from exhaustion mixed with happiness. “You’re heavy,” I whispered, pushing at his shoulder.

He chuckled against my neck, not moving. “Deal with it. You’re stuck ...