Finally, it begins to fade. The waves slow down and my body starts to relax. My muscles unclench. My breathing evens out. But I’m still trembling, still shaking, still completely wrecked.
I collapse on top of her. Both of us are shaking and gasping for air, completely exhausted, and covered in sweat.
My chest presses against her back. My face is buried in her hair. I can smell her—sweat, sex, and her unique scent. Her heart races beneath me.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her long hair. “That was...”
I can’t finish. I don’t have the right words for what that was.
After a long moment, I roll off her. My body feels heavy and spent. Every muscle is loose and relaxed in a way they haven’t been for God knows how long.
I pull her against my chest and hold her while we both try to catch our breath, letting our hearts slow down and come back to reality.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
I hold her tighter. I can’t seem to stop touching her.
I should get up and deal with the condom. But I don’t move. I simply keep holding her.
I lift my hand and brush her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. My thumb gently strokes along her jaw. It’s not something I usually do.
She shifts in my arms and turns her face towards me. Her eyes are hazy, still soft with pleasure.
As I gaze at her, something big and terrifying twists in my chest that I have no words for.
“What?” she asks softly.
“Nothing.”
I shake my head and glance away because I can’t let her see whatever the hell is written all over my face right now.
How the fuck am I supposed to tell her what I’m feeling when I don’t even know what it is to begin with? When I’ve never experienced anything like this before, when I have no idea how to put it into words that make sense?
She’s quiet for a moment before her hand comes up and rests on my chest. Right over my heart. I wonder if she knows how it stutters at her touch.
I don’t say anything. I just let her touch me and feel the warmth of her palm against my skin.
This is dangerous. I know it is. It was supposed to be casual, meaningless. It’s not. At least for me, and I know this isn’t what we promised each other.
Finally, I drag myself away from her. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit there for a moment, elbows on my knees, breathing hard as I try to clear my head.
“I should deal with this,” I mutter, gesturing vaguely to the condom.
I push to my feet and head for the bathroom. Once inside, I tie off the condom and toss it into the trash before turning on the faucet and scrubbing wet hands over my face. The water flows cold over my skin. I brace both hands on the sink and finally lift my head.
The guy looking back at me in the mirror appears exhausted. His hair is a complete mess, and his skin is flushed. There are red scratches on my arms from Lola’s nails—angry little lines that will stick around for a few days as a reminder of just how little self-control I have.
I run a hand through my hair and exhale slowly.
Something about me seems different.
I shake my head and quietly laugh to myself.
“Nice work, dickhead,” I mutter to my reflection. “You really fucked this up, Cooper. The second you let Bells in…”
I run a hand through my hair, letting out a quiet breath. “That’s going to be your fucking downfall.”
