He’s stronger than he used to be: his muscles don’t tremble as he walks us up. But when we reach the top, he doesn’t lay me on his bed gently. I don’t know why but I expected him to—maybe because I’d imagined how cautious he would have been with Eve. But he doesn’t treat me as though I’m fragile; he allows both of us to fall onto the mattress, his body folding over me as he roughly kisses my neck. His fingers work the buttons on my blouse as I lift his T-shirt up—he yanks it over his head impatiently, his firm stomach connecting with mine as he pushes the silky fabric of my shirt apart.
And then he starts talking to me in French and my goose bumps don’t just break out—theyexplode.
Allover my body.
I grapple with the buttons of his jeans like a wild thing. The music is pounding from the party still raging beyond the walls, but I can hear my heart beating in my ears and possibly his too. We can’t get our clothes off fast enough.
He reaches for a condom from his bedside drawer and offers it to me, his wolf eyes flooded with black. I snatch it from him and tear it open with my teeth, which is all the consent he needs. When he’s ready, he pauses and looks into my eyes. I’m panting, breathless, my pulse out of control.
“I want you,” I tell him, slightly desperately.
A flicker of something passes over his expression, a slight hesitation. It’s so minute that I could have missed it, but the sight of it makes me pause.
And then he’s pushing into me and my mind fogs as I become nothing more than heat and sensation, arching my back as I pull him in deeper. We begin to move together, increasing our pace until our connection is frenetic and unhinged and I’m feeling an urgency that I’ve never experienced before. I could get addicted to this. It’s thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.
His mouth is on mine when I fall. And two seconds later, he chases right after me.
Afterward we lie side by side, our skin slick with a sheen of sweat, our lips parted as we try to catch our breath. I roll toward him and place my hand on his flat stomach. He covers it with his own hand, but not before I feel his skin contract.
After lying there in silence for a while, he casts me a small smile. “I should probably get back out there.”
I feel a rush of disappointment.
“I guess I should go home,” I reply.
He doesn’t ask me to stay.
We sit up and reach for our clothes.
Was that us “keeping it casual”?I wonder uneasily as I get dressed.
He jogs down the stairs ahead of me, but when he reaches the door, he turns around and takes my face in his hands, pressing the sweetest kiss to my lips.
The tension drains out of my body as he lifts his head again, meeting my eyes.
“That was worth the wait,” he whispers.
My heart cartwheels as he takes my hand and leads me back out into the party.
28
“You always do that.”
I start as Jackson’s words rouse me from my daydream. “What?” I ask, swiveling to face him.
He’s tipped his chair back, his fingers steepled. It’s Monday afternoon and we’re at the office.
“Tap your pen on your bottom lip when you’re thinking.”
“Do I?” I ask absently.
“Yeah, it’s your tell.”
I look at him blankly.
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “You are in another world today.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, trying to collect myself. “Your tell is paper clips.”
