He pulls back, breath unsteady. “Are you sure?”
“So sure.”
I straddle his lap on the couch, and slide my hands under his shirt. The moment my fingertips touch his bare stomach, his whole body trembles.
I drag his shirt over his head. Lean muscle. Smooth skin. A faded scar across his ribs I’m not brave enough to ask about. His hands grip my hips, guiding me against the hard line of him. A sound breaks from his throat, low, rough, hungry.
I reach for my dress zipper and let it fall. My mismatched bra and underwear should embarrass me, but the way he looks at me—slow, reverent—burns away every insecurity.
“Are you sure?” he asks again.
“Absolutely.”
He lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me to the bed.
Everything after that is a blur of heat and hands and breathless wanting—his mouth against my throat, his fingers tightening at my waist, the relentless build of pleasure that shatters me once, then again.
“Condom,” I gasp when I can think.
He freezes. “Oh my God.” He scrambles for his jacket, relief flickering when he finds one.
“You’d better have a condom,” I mutter.
“I do,” he says, a rough laugh breaking through.
I roll it onto him, and then he’s inside me—one strong, devastating thrust that steals every thought from my head.
His movements are deep, controlled, coaxing pleasure from places I didn’t know still worked after Derek. His mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans. His hand cups my jaw like I’m something precious.
“Come for me,” he whispers. “Please.”
And I do—hard—pulling him over with me. His groan buries itself in my neck as his body shudders against mine.
Afterward, we lie tangled in each other, hearts racing, breath unsteady.
“Stay,” he murmurs.
“I thought this was just tonight.”
“It is,” he says. “But stay anyway.”
So I do.
***
Sunlight wakes me. The bed beside me is empty.
For a split second, I’m back in Derek’s bedroom—alone, betrayed—but then I see the folded note onthe pillow.
There’s coffee in the kitchen.
Thank you for last night.
My dress is neatly folded. My shoes are by the door. In the kitchen, a mug waits with a sticky note:
Help yourself.
I drink the coffee black, staring out at the city. Somewhere down there is Derek. Somewhere is the life I thought I wanted.
