Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)

“Bowan!” I wailed as my insides tightened around him.

“Oh my god, Ember, I’m…ahh.” He heaved beneath me.

My climax carried on to a foreign destination as I leaned back. Bo placed his hands on the front of my thighs, quickening his hips beneath me. He flipped me onto my back, and in another minute he was pulsing through me with audible satisfaction.

He carefully slid out of me and drew his forehead down my body as his heart jumped through his chest.

“Fuck,” he said into my stomach, “I’ve never felt . . .”

“Yea,” I tried to catch my breath, “me either.”

You love him. You are holy-shit in love with him.





Chapter Seven

I’d slept so heavy, that the sunlight blazing through my window at 6:45am startled me. Did I really sleep through the whole night, naked, with Bo in my bed? Or, worse, had I dreamt it all?

I jumped up and took inventory of my surroundings. Bo’s shoes were tucked under my bedside stand, and his jeans lay on the floor where I’d tossed them. I paused for a moment and breathed in the memory. Never had anyone looked at me with so much intention, or given me so much attention. My body held more memories. I felt him from head to toe; I had never felt this way before. Words I swore I wouldn’t use carelessly again - not since Adrian - pushed against my gated teeth. Despite their silence, their presence tore through my veins. It was all too heavy to evaluate at such an early hour.

A clink of glass in my kitchen startled me back to reality and I suddenly smelled coffee. I hustled over to my dresser and threw on an oversized t-shirt. I was about to head out of the bedroom, when I heard feet cautiously approaching my room. I gasped internally as he entered my room. Morning did him justice; his “morning after” hair was a perfect mess of wild ebony set against his light skin, and he wore only his boxer briefs. It was the only cup o’ Joe I needed.

“Did I wake you?” He seemed startled to see me standing there.

“No, not at all. For a minute, I thought you’d left.” I swayed back to the bed and hitched myself against the headboard, drawing my knees to my chest.

“What made you think I’d leave?” He flashed concern as he handed me a warm mug of coffee.

“I’m just surprised I slept so heavily. I’m glad you didn’t leave. How’d you know how to fix my coffee?”

“I saw the creamer in your fridge and took a guess.” He smirked as he slid next to me and mimicked my position.

I sipped my perfectly made coffee, closed my eyes, and smiled again at the memory of last night. When I opened my eyes, he was smiling too. He turned slightly and, for the first time, I caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted back in the daylight - and that tattoo I’d meant to investigate. Between his shoulders, starting at the base of his neck and running to the bottom of his shoulder blades was a huge Celtic cross. It was intricately decorated, all in black, and read like a topographical map over each one of his muscles.

“Wow, that’s gorgeous.” I reached out and barely touched it, waiting for his approval.

“Thanks, I got it after my parents died. Their initials are in the center.”

He shifted so his back was square to me, and stayed quiet as I traced my fingers up the cross and landed on the initials S.C. and V.C. I rested my hand there for a beat, trying to picture what it would be like if my parents were gone - taken from me at the same time. These shoulders have carried so much . . .

“Do you have any?” He turned back around.

“What, you didn’t get a good enough look last night?” I joked.

“Ha. Well, not at your back.” He winked as he leaned in for a kiss.

“Well, I don’t - yet. I’ll get one, but I’m waiting till something calls out to me.” I smiled thinking of all the times my parents suggested I get a tattoo.

“I had a great time last night,” I said, breaking the silence that draped comfortably between us.

“I did too. It was more than great, Ember . . .”

Jesus, my body was already responding to his voice. And, Ember sounded just as great coming from his mouth as November did. He could probably call me “bar stool”, I realized, and I wouldn’t care. He just needed to be the one saying it.

“Listen, you should know I don’t usually do this sort of thing. I just - it just felt so right with you.” I found myself looking at him out of the corner of my eye, hiding behind my coffee.

“Hey, I don’t think anything bad, Ember. I don’t usually do this either.” He set his coffee down.