Jax undressed me, washed his semen away with a warm washcloth, and arranged me on the bed. I was limp and breathless the whole time, and slightly irritated that he could move and think while I was a brainless mess of postorgasmic endorphins.
“You suck,” I told him when he finally sprawled on the bed beside me, gloriously naked.
He propped his head in his hand and grinned, his fingers running lightly down my cleavage to circle my navel. “Guess you missed the ten minutes it took for me to be able to stand up.”
“I’m taking you down for the count next time,” I grumbled.
“Mmm…” Leaning over me, he pressed his lips to mine. “I’m just happy there’s a next time. Lots of next times. You’ve got two years to make up for.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m not taking the blame. You walked. Whether or not I followed, you’re the one who bailed.”
“So I have two years to make up for.” He slid over me, kneeing my thighs open and settling between them. “I better get started.”