“Where’d you go, Arizona?” Milo murmured. He reached up and tapped her forehead. “Get out of there. Get under me.”
It was so fucking good.
He twisted and rolled her onto her back, pulling the hotel quilt out from under them and shoving it toward the end of the mattress. He didn’t untangle his arms from her back; he didn’t put space between them or whisper something filthy in her ear like she expected. Instead, he wrapped her up in an endless kiss, moving against her slowly, edging her toward oblivion in ways she’d never pictured with him.
In ways she’d never let herself picture.
“Milo,” she gasped, his hips crashing into hers. She hooked her ankles behind his back, needing him as close as possible. Wanting him as close as possible.
“Let go, Hanna. Let me have it,” he said between biting her ear and sucking on her shoulder, the skin puckering under the pressure. “I’m not going to take it, I need you to give it to me,” he mumbled, fingers curled into her skin, leaving their marks.
She nodded, the pressure building so quickly she couldn’t get her head around what he was asking for. He could ask for the deed to her fucking house, and she’d sign it over.
She ran her hands over his shoulders, anchoring herself in his tattoos before she was lost to him completely. He covered her mouth with his, inhaling the rapidly increasing breaths she tried to control, but the second he dipped his tongue between her lips, she shattered.
She was gone.
She was his.
She was so fucking fucked.
“God, Hanna, keep going,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m gonna?—”
He coiled around her so tightly she thought she might suffocate, but the pressure brought her back into her body to fully enjoy the marvel that was a Milo Galantis climax and the unholy sound of him moaning right into her ear.
For a second, she thought that maybe they’d managed to freeze time. Maybe they had an eternity to spend twisted up in one another.
No talks to be had.
No consequences.
“Well,” Milo sighed, his chest heaving as he sprawled out across her bed. “That was just as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Terrible,” she gasped.
“It’s a good thing it wasn’t that great,” he said through stilted breaths, rolling to his side so he could face her. “Because I was worried we were making a huge mistake that we could never come back from.”
“Exactly,” she said, staring at the ceiling, unable to look at him for fear of what she might find gathering in those eyes. “I’ve actually already forgotten your name. So.”
“That’s alright,” Milo said, patting her shoulder. “I’m sure the next suite over can tell you.”
When she woke up the next morning, she realized two things simultaneously.
1. She was naked, and Milo was curled around her on Sara’s side of the bed. He was also naked, which was something she’d have liked to spend more time observing, however
2. Someone was on the other side of the door knocking, which meant Sara was back, and she was done sharing the space.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hanna whispered, shaking Milo.
“Say please,” he mumbled.
“Milo,” she said. “Sara is back.”
He shot out of bed and she watched ten different things process over his face at once. She frantically searched the floor for his clothes, tossing his shirt and pants over her shoulder. She reached for a t-shirt and shorts in her suitcase and pulled them on while hopping toward the door.
“Milo! Are you in there, man?”
Oh my god, is that Matty?
