“I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so I got a plain pepperoni and a supreme.”
“Pepperoni works.”
Kevlar sits at the head of the bed while I sit with my legs criss-crossed at the foot with the boxes of pizza between us. All he has in this room is piss-hot beer, but I’m not going to complain.
Right now, in this room with him, I’m in heaven.
All the bad of the day melted away with that one kiss.
We eat in silence, but it isn’t awkward or uncomfortable.
After three slices, I wipe my greasy hands on a napkin and finish off my second beer. I hiccup and Kevlar laughs as he moves the greasy cardboard boxes to the top of the dresser, then he goes into the bathroom. I dig around in my bags for something to sleep in, but come up short. I look around for one of his tees like I slept in last night. As though he knows what I’m looking for, he exits the bathroom shirtless and wearing nothing but his gray boxer briefs. My breath lodges in my throat as he tosses the shirt he wore today at me.
“Thanks.” I skirt past him and hurry into the bathroom.
Nervousness flutters in my belly like a million bat wings. He’s very undressed and I don’t know if I’m ready to take things any further with him. On one hand, someone wants to kill me, and on the other, I could have a husband I’m supposed to be committed to.
Morally, I know I should wait until I know I’m single, but I could die tomorrow.
I strip to my underwear and slip his tee over my head, loving that it smells of him. I open the drawer and take out a condom.
When I leave the bathroom, Kevlar has turned out the lights and is already in bed. I tuck the condom into my palm, hiding it behind my back as though I’m doing something very naughty.
Moonlight filters through the sliding glass door, illuminating him.
Kevlar watches me with that half-lidded, lazy expression, like watching me is a guilty pleasure. Maybe it is. The way he lounges against the headboard, the way his toes wiggle against the comforter, he’s comfortable in the kind of way that’s only possible when you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Where you want to be.
I drop a knee to the bed, depending on muscle memory to guide me through the motions. I stick the condom between my teeth, and he smirks as I crawl up the bed to him.
“Hi,” I whisper, dropping the foil wrapper on his stomach.
“C’mere.” He hooks his big hands under my armpits and hauls me closer. I straddle his crotch, his erection pressing to the crotch of my undies.
Wetness pools there between my thighs. He wraps a hand around my throat, pulling my mouth to his.
I don’t care if this is wrong, or too soon. Or if I’ll regret it when the world comes screaming back in the morning. Right now, in the dark, with only the sound of the waves rushing the shore and the heavy sound of our breaths passing between us, I want him.
His hand is warm on my throat, a pressure more comforting than dangerous. His kisses are hungry, full of a need he’s been holding back since we met. I arch against him, shivering at the slide of his rough palms down my back, under my borrowed tee.He groans, the sound deep, primal, vibrating between my legs as I suck on his tongue, returning every bit of desire he’s pouring into me.
“You sure?” he whispers, voice buried against my shoulder.
I don’t answer right away, but he kisses any remaining doubt away. His lips move up the slender column of my throat and along my jawline before returning to my mouth.
My hands roam his hot and hard muscles, appreciating his body. A body that results only from years of fighting and working out.
“Going to ask you one more time, sweetness. Are you sure you want to cross this line?”
“I want to feel you. I want to feel something that’s mine.” I reach between us, giving his dick a squeeze. He yanks the tee over my head in one fluid motion, slinging it somewhere in the darkened room.
Our legs tangle, and the line of his hips are narrow, sharp as a blade beneath my palms.
He keeps his hand at my throat, thumb brushing the line of my jaw, as if holding me to this moment. The other hand moves to my waist. I grind down, conscious of nothing but how good it feels to tease him through the thin fabric that separates him from thrusting inside me.
“Fuck, Lacey. I need to feel you, baby. To taste you. To be inside you.”
He breathes me in, kissing me once more as he yanks on the sides of my underwear, completely ripping them off me.
