“Hi,” I whispered and kissed him there again, lingering long enough to feel the shiver that went through him.
His hand slid down, settling possessively at my waist. “What are you doing?”
I hummed, not bothering to answer as I kept my lips against his skin, too drunk on him to stop. He shifted under me to look down, dragging his gaze over me.
“What are you doing, El?” he asked again, a whisper this time.
I tilted my chin up, my mouth brushing the edge of his jaw. “Not pretending for once.”
That earned the smallest smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “Not pretending to pretend?”
“Exactly.”
His eyes stayed on mine, dark and steady, his hand still lazily resting on my waist.
Neither of us moved.
“Ellie.” His voice was all low and raspy. “You’re making it really hard to think straight.”
I didn’t even blink. “I’m not here to think.”
His lips twitched. “You’re aware I’m in no shape to stop you right now? You’re sober now, and I’m barely half awake.”
“Good.”
Another soft breath of a laugh from him. He shifted under me, his fingers flexing against my waist.
“I’m serious.” He tilted his head slightly, enough that his breath ghosted across my cheek. “Tell me what this is.”
I felt his words as much as I heard them. Each one caught on my skin, sinking in, making it impossible to remember why I ever tried to resist him.
“This is me,” I whispered, my lips hovering near his jaw, “finally shutting off the part of my brain that overthinks everything and telling you I want you.”
His hand stilled. His chest lifted in slow, uneven breaths, like he was hanging on by a thread and I was the one holding the scissors.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “Because if you start this…you don’t get to act surprised when I listen.”
I held his gaze, letting every reckless, terrifying part of me rise to the surface.
“Then listen,” I whispered.
I didn’t wait for him to take the lead. I was already leaning in, closing the space between us and pressing my mouth to his. It was soft at first, a barely there touch, tasting him.
He let me continue with my lazy movements for about two seconds, and all that careful restraint he was clinging to snapped.
His hands locked around my waist, moving me to straddle his lap in one pull without breaking the kiss. Suddenly, there was no patience, only heat and something feral clawing out of us both.
The kiss deepened quickly, open-mouthed and desperate. My head spun, as if I'd been pulled into some alternate reality where NFL players actually kissed emotionally damaged pop stars who came with more baggage than an airport carousel.
His hands were everywhere—gripping, dragging, anchoring me to him like he couldn’t bear the thought of even an inch between us. He wasn’t gentle. He was rough and greedy, and it only made me want him more.
I matched him—every bite, every tug, every frantic grind. There wasn’t enough air in the room, but I didn’t care. I didn’t think. I moved with him, chasing every dizzying drag of friction between us, shamelessly aching for more. His abs were hard beneath me, and I rocked against him without a single ounce of hesitation.
“Ellie,” he gasped, like my name was being ripped out of him. His hands locked down on my hips, guiding me, pulling me exactly where he wanted me. WhereIwanted to be. “Fuck—don’t stop. Please, don’t you dare stop.”
I wasn’t planning on it. Every ridge gave me exactly what I was chasing. I ground down harder, the friction hitting just right through the thin layers of fabric between us.
Sawyer’s breath stuttered. “Shit, baby—yeah, that’s it.”
