“Same,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be. “No one else.”
Her eyes search mine for a long moment, and I swear I can see her walls wobbling. Not falling, but shifting. Like maybe she’s starting to believe this could be more than she’s letting herself admit.
“Okay then,” she says. She plants her palms on my shoulders and tries to guide me down to the bed. “Lie back.”
“Wait, I want to taste you first. Savor this gorgeous body.”
She gives me sly smile, and I love that she hasn’t lost her edge either. “Next time. I’m too horny right now. Every time your skin brushes mine I feel like I’m going to explode.”
I let go and fall back on the bed. She swings a leg over my hips, settling on top of me like she has been waiting for this since the second we walked into the room. Her hands slide along my sides as she leans down to kiss me, then she sits up, reaches between us, and wraps her fingers around me.
“Natalie,” I grit out, hands locking on her hips.
She lifts herself, guides me to her, and sinks down in one slow, deliberate motion.
My vision actually blanks for a second.
She closes her eyes, head tipping back, a quiet moan escapes her. I force my hands to stay on her hips instead of dragging her down faster, letting her set the pace.
“Look at me,” I say, voice rough.
Her eyes open, and something in my chest pulls tight.
She starts to move, rocking against me, finding a rhythm that is all urgency and no hesitation. Her hands brace on my chest for leverage, and it is messy and hot and real in a way that feels like that first night.
“God, Jake,” she breathes.
My fingers flex on her hips and I thrust up into her, matching her tempo. The room fills with the sounds of us, the creak of the bed, the catch of her breath every time she grinds down just right. I slide one hand between us, finding her clit, and the way she reacts nearly undoes me on the spot.
“Don’t stop,” she gasps. “Right there.”
“Take what you need,” I say.
She rides me harder, chasing what she wants, and it takes everything I have to hold my own orgasm back. Her nails dig into my shoulders, her movements start to stutter, and I feel the shift in her body right before she shatters around me.
“Oh fuck, Jake,” she cries out, and then she is gone, coming apart above me, body tightening, head thrown back.
The sight and feel of it rip me open. I drive up into her one last time and follow her over, every muscle locking as I spill inside her.
We just stay there, connected and lost in the moment, both of us breathing like we ran a race, her head pressed to my chest, my hands smoothingdown her back as if that might slow my heartbeat. The corner of her mouth curves in the faintest, sweetest smile. It’s there for just a heartbeat, but I catch it.
Then, just as quickly, it’s gone. I can feel the tension starting to creep back into her muscles and the wall slides back into place.
She finally exhales against my shoulder, her voice muffled. “This can’t happen again.”
The words land like a bucket of cold water, but she doesn’t move. Her body is still wrapped around mine. My hand is still on her spine.
I swallow and try to keep my tone even. “Okay.”
“What just happened doesn’t change anything. It’s just—I don’t do relationships,” she says, like it’s her mantra.
I want to tell her it does change things. It makes me want her even more. But I keep my hand on her back, keep my voice steady, and give her what she needs to hear.
“Okay.”
fourteen
. . .
