While I tease the other tip, my hand slides down her curves to the heat between her thighs. She’s incredibly sensitive, responding with breathless cries and writhing everywhere I touch.
She’s aching for me, and I finally graze her clit with a single digit, find her wet and ready, and sink it deep inside. A scream tears through her throat and rips the quiet air. It’s a beautiful sound. It intoxicates me.
She grabs the front of my shirt again.
“Sebastian.” Her voice is rough like gravel. “Please. Fuck me. Now.”
I’m too insane to rethink or draw this out. I capture her lips in mine and lie over her, my body shuddering with the desperation of my desire. I wrap my erection in my fingers and pump it as I kiss her. She wraps her legs around me, reaches between our bodies, and aligns the crown of my cock to her heat.
Impatient, I drive into her in one deep, forceful motion. The breath leaves her lungs in a sharp cry, her eyes flutteringshut as she clings to me. I don’t give her time to recover. I find a rhythm that’s punishing and perfect, each thrust a claim, each breath a battle for air.
I’ve never felt anything as powerful as this in my entire life. She’s tight and warm, milking and pulling me in at the same time. I cover her breast with one hand and lean down to capture the other nipple with my mouth.
“Seb. Seb. Seb.” My name filters out of her mouth like music, and I find myself teetering toward the edge.
But I want to take her with me, so I slip my hand between our sweaty bodies and flick her clit. Once. Twice. On the third time, she completely shatters beneath me, calling my name like an anchor. I pull out of her, jerk myself once, and spill onto the bed.
She curls into me, not saying a word, warm and trusting, like this is the most natural thing in the world. My arm comes around her instinctively, pulling her against my chest. I tell myself it’s temporary. Just a few minutes. Just until the moment passes so she doesn’t feel dismissed or used.
Yes. That’s all.
We don’t speak. We don’t need to. The room is quiet except for our breathing, the city muted beyond the walls. Seconds fold into minutes. Her body softens. Her breath evens out.
She falls asleep.
Something in my chest cracks open.
Fuck.
It was the best night of my life—and the worst possible mistake.
I stare at the ceiling, jaw tight, mind racing. I never should have let her get this close. Never should have let her past the armor.
This isn’t a relationship. It was never supposed to be. There’s no space here for tenderness. No room for this quiet intimacy that feels dangerously like belonging.
I should leave.
But I don’t.
I stay, holding her until I’m certain she’s deep in sleep, until there’s no chance she’ll wake and see the conflict written all over my face.
***
The next thing I know, I’m waking up.
The room is dark. My neck aches slightly from the angle I fell asleep in. Sienna is still there, curled toward me, lashes resting against her cheeks. I study her in the dim light, committing every detail to memory—the curve of her mouth, the faint line between her brows.
She looks unreal. Untouchable.
Too bad this is the last time I’ll see her like this.
Carefully, I slide out of bed. I pull on my pants, move quietly, and draw the sheets up over her shoulders. She sighs in her sleep but doesn’t wake.
In the living room, I grab my jacket and phone. My fingers hesitate over the screen before I type the message she’ll see when morning comes.
Me:Marko called again. I had to go. Sorry I left before you woke up. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.
A lie wrapped in something that sounds like a promise.
