“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
My fingers moved faster, more confidently. I couldn’t stop watching him and imagining that it was him touching my skin.
He was starting to unravel in front of me. The moonlight slid across his skin, catching the sweat on his chest, the flex of his muscles, the fierce concentration in his eyes. Every breath was too loud. Every nerve in my body was too alert. I shook, not from fear, but from the intensity of being wanted like that—looked at like that.
Dripping with need and breathless desire, my thighs trembled and my lips parted. I didn’t try to muffle the moan that slipped free this time.
Sawyer’s grip tightened. “That sound—fuck, Ellie. I need more of it. Don’t hold back.”
I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Something about him made me unable to restrain myself. I let out a soft and desperate moan as I moved faster. My whole body trembled, and I leaned against the wall for support.
He was watching every second. His strokes sped up, more ragged now.
“I want you so fucking bad,” he said, his voice wrecked. “I want my hands on you. You have no idea.”
“I think I do,” I whispered. My hips jerked forward, chasing the pressure. “Sawyer.”
“You gonna come for me, baby?” he asked, eyes locked on mine like he needed the answer to breathe.
I whimpered, unable to form words.
“Say yes.”
My head lolled back, my fingers frantic. “Yes,” I gasped.
“Let me hear you,” he growled. “Please. Don’t hide it. Not from me.”
That commanding voice pushed me over the edge. I shattered in front of him, his voice wrapped around me. A groan escaped his lips as he said my name and found his own release.
He shuddered, chest rising and falling until his movements slowed. The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It was just charged. After grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself, he stepped toward me slowly. Bending down, he tugged my shorts back up, his fingers lingering at my hips. He slid his arms around my waist and pulled me against him, holding me like he didn’t want to let go.
His embrace was gentle and sweet in a way that didn’t match the rawness of what had just passed between us. That made it all the more disarming.
He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and murmured, “Good girl.”
With a playful swat to my ass, he walked out as if he hadn’t completely ruined me.
I stood there for a beat, dazed, and still catching my breath.
TWENTY-NINE
Sawyer
I’m an idiot.A complete, absolute moron with the emotional intelligence of a brick wall and the impulse control of a toddler. Not only did I just watch my very fake girlfriend come apart in front of me, but I decided the best follow-up move was to toss out agood girllike some kind of caveman and walk away.
Real smooth, jackass. Real fucking smooth.
Seriously, what kind of masochistic lunatic sees a woman looking at him like he shattered her entire worldview and thinks,Yeah, this is the perfect moment to make it weird and disappear?
I didn't think. That was the problem—I never thought when it came to her. I saw her standing there in my doorway, and every functioning brain cell I had left evaporated into thin air. Gone. Bye-bye.
I was so catastrophically screwed.
Because seeing her like that? The way she looked at me, the way my name fell from her lips? Yeah, if I was teetering on the edge of this fake relationship before, I took a swan dive straight into down bad territory. No parachute, no safety net, just me free-falling into feelings I had no business having.
When she burst through the door, I was still fumbling with my sweatpants—because apparently, I also lost all motor function when she was involved.
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Her cheeks were still flushed that perfect shade of pink, her hair a beautiful disaster, and all I could think about was how gorgeous she looked and how desperately I wanted to mess her hair up even more.
