“I want that, too.” I fucking want it so much. I wantherso badly my dick aches.
Without me having to do a thing, she moves to situate herself on top of me. With one lift, I guide my dick inside her and then slide to hold her hip as she consumes me whole. Her head falls back, the tips of her hair dangling across the tops of my legs. When she starts a slow gyration, I reach up and take hold of her tits, one and then the other, not to leave one out. Pinching the pink peaks, I watch them pebble for me as goose bumps ripple across her arms, and the vibration of a low moan rumbles through my fingertips against her chest.
I sit up, taking a nipple in my mouth, teasing and taunting until her body jolts and she laughs. With her fingers digging into my hair, she leans down to whisper in my ear, “You’re such a bad boy when you want to be.”
I’d gone easy, let her control the pace and plunder, but not with the words laid out like a dare for me to do. Running my hand up the center of her back and into her hair, I hold her right where she is and turn my mouth to her ear. “You don’t know what you’ve started.”
She leans back to catch my gaze and goddamn smirks at me. “Don’t I?”
“You’re lucky I only have the use of one arm.”
“Hasn’t stopped you so far.”Challenge accepted.
I flip her down onto the mattress, her hair flying from the fast action as a squeal rushes from her lungs. I start fucking her like this bad girl wants—hard, fast, deeper than she thought possible. Forcing a breath out with each thrust, I secure my hand to her shoulder and fuck her like I wantedto the first time we butted heads. She’s the sexiest woman I’ve ever fucking met, and that mouth of hers, the snark and comebacks, her stubborn streak have all been foreplay. So I give her what she wants and take what I need.
Digging her nails into my shoulders, she chants my name as if I’m the one she worships. I kiss her neck, licking the base of her jawline, predicting a downfall once the truth comes to light. How will we survive our own lies? I’m not convinced we can.
I bite because she’s so goddamn beautiful, and my basest instincts to own every part of her kick in. I start to sink my teeth, but soothe any red I left with a swipe of my tongue. “I want you,” I confess on the next breath.
Our bodies slow, the connection still strong between us when she lifts my chin with only her fingertip. “You have me, Warner. I’m yours.” She kisses my lips, and then whispers, “I’m right here with you.”
I exhale, knowing I’ll keep the lies going forever if it means I get to keep her. I pick up my pace, and this time, I slide my hand between her legs. Her body reacts with an arched back and thrust of her pelvis. When I rub her bud, she says, “Don’t stop. I’m so close.”
As if I could. I’m too damn selfish for that. I thrust into her, so turned on by the tightness and hold she not only has on my body but also on my heart. Her hands grab my ass and urge me forward. I pull back, taking her in before I plunge forward again. She has me staggering on the precipice of the abyss. I don’t fight it. I close my eyes and welcome it.
My body moves of its own accord toward the desire to embrace euphoria with her. When I come, the sounds of my girl falling with me fill my space and time, capture and release.
And when I return to the haven of this life with her, I wrap my arm around her and hold her to my chest. Her breathing is ragged while her body recovers, collapsed on top of mine. Sweat slicks over our skin, and a few cookie crumbs stick to her back.
I grin. What a fucking mess we’re in, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Not with her. This is heaven. I kiss the top of her head and then remove the condom. “You hungry? I think I’m going to heat up the spaghetti and meatballs.”
The rattle of her body against mine, the lift of her cheek on my chest, has me smiling in response. She rests her hand on me and her chin on top of that. “I could eat.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Am I, Warner? Am I your girl?” Her smile is softer, matching our breathing as it regulates back to normal. Her expression is so genuine and not shaped by disbelief, but more by the hope that it might be true.
Sometimes I wonder how this will play out, how the truth eventually finds the light. I’m certain too much damage will be done by that point. But this between us now, that look in her eyes, gives me the same hope she’s feeling. “You are, Sass.” I kiss her head and then shift to the side. She falls onto the mattress as I slide off. “Mainly,” I say with a chuckle, “because no one else would put up with the nonsense.” Rolling onto her back, tits up, and a grin so big that you’d think she was trying to win over some pageant judges, she laughs.
I’m already walking into the bathroom, tossing the trash away and mapping out my plan of attack. I’ll take a shower and then tackle the cleaning. Vacuuming the carpet to changing the sheets, I’m making a list in my mind when she says, “What you call nonsense others consider treasure. Becareful, Hotshot, or you just might lose me to the competition.”
I hadn’t thought about her life outside of this apartment until I met her family. That was the extent of it. She could have a boyfriend. Hell, she could be married to someone else for all I know. Neither is reasonable if I have tonight to go by. Her family wasn’t in on the grand plan. They would have said something if she had someone special in her life. Right?
Either way, her words, whether she’s joking or not, are a punch to the gut. A hit of reality injected into a great night to ruin it. I stop, turning back and filling the doorway. Staring at her, I ask, “Isthere competition?”
She sits up. “Now, why would you ask me that?” A smile is still on her face, but it’s gentler, mingling with the concern in her eyes. “I only left the other day, and then I was back the next. How fast do you think I operate?”
“That’s a loaded question.”
She gets off the bed and comes to stand in front of me. When I look up, annoyance has replaced the bliss in the aftermath. With her hand on her hip, her eyes stay on the floor, and she shakes her head as disbelief embodies her shoulders. I can sense the shift in her mood. She finally looks up at me, and says, “If you don’t trust me, just say it. No use keeping me around if you don’t believe I’ve been true to you.”
Before she escapes into the bathroom, I capture her wrist. “True or genuine?”
The question pulls her brows together, and then, with a resolve into indifference, she shrugs. “Does it really matter?” She pulls her wrist away and enters the bathroom behind me.
In the heat of the moment, I convince myself that the liesdon’t matter, that the act is over, and she’s here for me and not some payout. With the embers remaining and ready to burn out, the truth hurts. I enter the bathroom as she’s dipped into the shower to turn on the faucet. “What do you do for a living?”
She drops her head down as if I’ve exhausted her more from the line of questioning than the sex. Looking up, she sighs. “I get that you have amnesia, but you don’t remember anything?”
