A delectable abyss of a kiss, igniting my insides, electrifying my skin, pulsing between my thighs. I’d never climaxed from just a kiss before – not without a helping hand (so to speak) – but I was close, and we were both still fully clothed. I ground my pelvis against his, feeling his ramrod erection through his jeans, every sensation, every tingle intensifying.
One of his hands slid beneath me, slipping under my tank top, his fingertips searing my skin as they dug into my flesh, clasping my body to his. My fingers still tangled in his hair, I tugged gently and he groaned into my mouth. That groan – that guttural Tommy groan that flipped my insides upside down. It was a tipping point, and I broke the kiss to throw my head back. Tommy peppered fervent kisses along my jawline, nestling just below my ear – my special spot, one he knew well. He kissed me there, his lips sending a jolt of pleasure to my centre.
‘You’re so close, baby,’ he whispered, and shivers rippled over my skin.
I rocked my hips against him, pleasure building as he kissed and nibbled at my neck.
‘Oh god, oh god, Tommy, I’m going to?—’
The orgasm ripped through me, sweetly decimating me as my body shook with its intensity. As it started to ebb away, I inhaled deeply and when my breathing steadied, my eyes flitted open to see Tommy looking down at me, his face the picture of wonder.
‘Fuck, Ally,’ he said again, his lips curling into a smile.
I laughed – not because it was funny, just something my body does at times from the release. He shifted lower to rest his cheek on my collarbone, his face turned away from me, then pulled his hand from under me, his fingertips trailing lazily along my thigh. I held him to me, playing with his hair.
I never wanted to let him go.
I closed my eyes again, content just to lie there with him, knowing that if I spoke, it would break the spell.
Baby, I mused. He’d called mebaby. It could have been habit – it’s what we called each other when we were together – but then again, that was years ago. Maybe he’d meant it, maybe this was a sign that he wanted us to start over.
I was about to suggest we move to the bedroom, take our time with each other, make love properly and let me pleasure him. But then he gulped – I felt it as well as heard it – and before I could stop it, he’d pushed himself up and climbed off me. He sat heavily on the end of the sofa, staring into space, and frowned.
I felt naked –exposed– even though I was fully clothed.
This meant something – ithadto, given our history. And it changed everything between us – all the carefully constructed walls and polite discourse, all the self-preservation measures.
No wonder I felt exposed – I was. Stripped bare, emotionally speaking. Because I wanted him, not just to sleep with him, buthim. I wanted Tommy. And now that I’d had a taste of what I’d missed – literally – I could neverun-want him again.
But judging by Tommy’s reaction, he didn’t feel the same.
I stared at his profile until he finally looked at me. He smiled, but it was a sad smile.
‘I—’
‘Don’t say you shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want to hear it,’ I told him.
His lips parted as if he was about to protest, but he didn’t say anything else. He just gave me that sad smile again, then stood and walked purposefully towards the door.
He opened it, then turned, lingering in the doorway for a moment. ‘Goodnight, Ally. Think about what I said.’
Then he left.
The bastard.
Think about what I said?
Which part, Tommy? The part where you told me that hubby number three might be caught up in some shady shit, or the part where you said,Fuck, Ally, then kissed me harder than you ever have before? Or what about calling mebaby? Should I be thinking about that?
‘Gah!’ I exclaimed to the empty room.
I sat up, planting my feet on the floor, then reached for the rest of my brandy. I downed it in two gulps, letting it burn my throat – an oddly satisfying penance for making out with my ex like a randy teen.
And one thing was for sure: I was not going anywhere. I might evenextendmy stay on Aetheria!
Because if Julianwascaught up in something ‘nefarious’, as Tommy had called it, then he might need my help. It was unfathomable that he’d become an evil mastermind in the years since our divorce. More likely, he’d slipped up and the situation had escalated to the point of no return. I was not about to abandon him in his time of need.
How I raised my concerns was another matter, one I’d have to navigate carefully. Julian was a proud man; he’d never liked asking for help. Or accepting it.
