I stop in the doorway. My heart is hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat, my wrists, behind my eyes.
He sits up. The sheet falls to his hips. His chest is bare and I can see the lines of muscle, the dark hair, the rise and fall of his breathing, which is no longer controlled.
"Come here, Theo."
I cross the room. I climb onto the bed. I put my hands on his chest and push him down and he goes, flat on his back, his eyes black in the dark.
I kiss him, hard and angry. My teeth catch his lip and he groans and his hands come up to my hips and press into the hollows above my hipbones.
His hand slides up my bare back. His palm is hot and wide and it covers the span between my shoulder blades. He pulls me down, flush against him, and I can feel him hard beneath me through the thin cotton.
"You can’t make me stay because of this."
"I know," he says.
He’s lying and so am I, but right now, it doesn’t matter.
10. Dom
His mouth is hard against mine and his teeth catch my lip and the sting of it sends a bolt of heat straight down my spine. His hands are on my chest, fingers spread, pressing me flat against the mattress.
He's straddling me, his thighs tight against my hips, and the weight of him is slight, too slight. I can feel his bones through his skin. I can also feel the heat pouring off him, his body radiating it like a furnace, and the scent. Christ, the scent.
It’s almost narcotic. He fills my lungs and my brain whites out for a second and my hips jerk up against him before I can stop them.
He makes a sound against my mouth. Not quite a moan. Sharper than that. He bites my lip again, harder, and I taste copper.
He makes a sound when his back hits the mattress, surprise and something else, and then my weight is on him and his legs fall open around my hips and the noise he makes this time is different. Relief. His arms go around my neck and he pulls me down, closer, tighter, burying his face in my throat. Breathing me in.
"Took you long enough," I say.
"We don’t have to talk."
I smirk. I press my mouth to his ear. "Five nights on my sofa. I could smell you wanting me through the walls."
His fingers dig into my shoulders. "Shut up."
"Make me."
He bites my neck. The pain is sharp and bright and my cock jerks against his thigh and I laugh, low, against his ear. He's furious and shaking and he's clinging to me so hard his nails are leaving marks and I have never wanted anything more than I want this.
I shift my weight onto one forearm and reach down between us with the other hand. When I wrap my fingers around him, he arches off the mattress, his breath punching out of him. He's hard and hot and already so wet with slick that my hand slides easily.
His thighs are slick, the sheets underneath him already damp, and the scent of him in full heat is staggering. Sweet and sharp and deep. I could drown in it.
I pull back enough to strip him. He lets me. He lifts his hips when I pull his pants down. He doesn't help but he doesn't resist and his eyes are fixed on my face the whole time, dark and glassy, tracking me.
I strip off my own pants and settle back over him. Skin on skin. The full length of me pressed against the full length of him and he shudders, his whole body, a tremor that runs from his chest to his hips. His legs wrap around me and his heels press into the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer, pulling my weight down onto him.
He wants this. Not me on my back. Not distance, not control. He wants to be covered. He wants the size and the weight and the scent of me surrounding him and I can feel it in the way his body curves into mine, the way his face presses into my neck, the way his breathing slows for the first time in hours when I'm over him like this.
I reach between us. I find where he's open and slick and ready and I push into him slowly, watching his face.
His eyes close. His lips part. His head tips back and the sound he makes is low and broken and his hands grip my shoulders like I'm the only solid thing in the room.
I stop. Buried in him. Waiting. Not because I'm being gentle. Because I want to watch him feel it.
"Move," he whispers.
