I kiss her again, slow and deep, dragging it out.If all I get are these moments, I’m going to embrace every last second out of them.Her fingers curl at the back of my neck, her sigh spilling into my mouth, and I swear I feel it all the way down my spine.
She makes a soft, needy sound, and I answer it without thinking, my hands moving over her, relearning what I already know.What makes her gasp, what makes her cling, what makes the world narrow down to just us.
She says don’t fall in love with me.
What she doesn’t understand is that it isn’t a choice.
Somewhere between her smart mouth in Ally’s bakery and her anxious hands twisting in mine when she couldn’t catch her breath, I started falling.
Quietly.
Stupidly.All the ways a man like never should.
I won’t tell her that.
Won’t tell anyone the power she holds over me.
I let my body speak instead of my mouth.I show her in every touch, every look, everything I’m not supposed to feel.I let myself pretend, just for tonight, that this could be more than an agreement.
My cock aching, I slide inside her tight cunt.Her body molds around me like we are two pieces of some puzzle fitting together in only a way we can.Every thrust she matches my pace, my energy, my damn desire.
No strings.
Just fun.
That’s the deal.
I tell myself I can live with it.
I tell myself I don’t want more.
I tell myself I’ll walk away before it gets bad.
But with her heartbeat steady against my chest, my cock limp inside her covered in her release and my own, I fight this unseen battle inside myself.
For the first time in a long damn time, I hold her against me knowing the lie is thick between us.Because the feelings are real.
And when this blows up—and it will—it’s not going to be her left wrecked.
It will be me.
One
Kelly
We Can’t Keep Doing this
Iswear the timer on the oven is mocking me.
It’s beeping in this slow, rhythmic pattern that sounds like some obnoxious angel of conscious on my shoulder telling me, “you’re avoiding your problems.”
So what if I am?
“Shut up,” I mutter, jabbing the button with more force than necessary as I yank the tray of croissants free and set them on the cooling rack.
The bakery smells like butter and sugar—my favorite scent in the world—but even that doesn’t make the tight knot in my chest loosen.
It’s beensix months since the night I told Riot not to fall in love with me for the first time.Three months of reminding him of our agreement.Three months of me pretending I’m not scared because I’m the one breaking the rule.
