His thumb pressed firmly against my clit, and my whole body ached to feel his cock inside me, to know the sensation of his thick length filling me, pushing deep. I held back, reminding myself there was a line we’d promised not to cross. This was for pleasure.
I closed my eyes, willing every thought, every doubt, to dissolve. I let myself sink into the moment, to feel everything without hesitation.
“You’re laid out for me, Char. I’m yours,” he murmured, his voice low and intense. “I am yours.”
Something raw laced his tone, but I didn’t dare look at him. His words lingered, a promise wrapped in a fleeting moment.But he couldn’t really be mine—this connection was only borrowed, temporary.
He slipped his fingers from inside me and gripped my hips as he tugged my shorts off, tossing them aside. In an instant, his mouth was back on me, his tongue sliding over my slit, tasting me with a ferocious hunger. Every shift in pressure sent jolts of pleasure through me, and my clit throbbed under his relentless attention.
“I’m going to come,” I cried out, breathless, my voice breaking with need. “I?—”
My body unraveled, releasing, my orgasm tearing through me in powerful, shattering waves, leaving me panting. Every inch of me burned with the afterglow as Austin’s name slipped from my lips, a desperate plea as I rode out the last tremors. His mouth slowed, savoring me, grounding me, holding me steady in the aftermath.
I slumped against the counter, completely spent, my body warm and blissfully heavy.
“Austin,” I breathed, the word barely a whisper.
He slipped his hands under me, lifting me up and pulling me against his chest as he carried me upstairs, strong and sure.
“You did so good,” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble. “Thank you.”
I gazed up at him, watching the tenderness in his eyes as he carried me into my room. Past the bed, he brought me straight to my large clawfoot tub, setting me down with care.
He turned on the water, and I watched him in awe. Nobody ever went to these lengths to care for me.
“Austin,” I whispered. “I never...” My gaze drifted down to where his cock still strained against his sweatpants, hard and waiting.
He chuckled, brushing a hand over my cheek. “It’s okay, Char.”
The warm water filled the tub as he leaned over the edge, watching it rise.
“Come in with me,” I murmured, wanting him close, craving more of that closeness.
“I can’t do that. It would cross the line for us.”
The ache that bloomed inside me was deeper than disappointment; it was a hollow kind of emptiness that spread. I held his gaze, searching for something—anything—that might tell me he felt it too.
Austin stood and shook his head, regret heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He turned and walked away, his steps quiet but absolute. The soft click of the door as it closed behind him echoed in the room, sealing the space and amplifying the emptiness inside me. The warmth I’d felt with him, a warmth I’d clung to, vanished all at once, leaving a chill that seeped into my bones, reminding me of how easily it all slipped away.
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold onto the pieces of what had felt so full just moments before, but it was useless. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall, their warmth fading almost as quickly as it came, leaving me colder than ever.
21
austin
I shouldn’t have let it go that far, even after I said I wouldn’t. I crossed a line with her, and I knew it. Last night, I couldn’t get her out of my mind—the feel of her body, the taste of her lips, the way she looked in her wedding dress. I wanted to do this the way we’d agreed upon, to hold back, which was why I’d gone for a run. It didn’t matter that it was the dead of night; I thought fresh air might clear my head.
And it did—to a point. But then I saw her in the kitchen, and all control went out the window. I needed her as much as I needed air, but I also needed this marriage to work. This morning, I decided it was better to keep things simple, to be her friend, her roommate, because that’s all I was really capable of. I wasn’t good at relationships, at holding onto things.
I glanced down at my coffee, realizing my hands were trembling. With a sigh, I turned, grabbed the medicine I’d stored in the cabinet above her fridge, and popped a pill.
“This is what I’m worth,” I muttered, swallowing it dry.
“Are you feeling sick?” a soft voice asked from across the room.
I turned, finding Charlie standing in the doorway wearing jeans and a cropped white top. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, with a few loose strands framing her face.
