“I bought condoms today,” she replies and I pull back to take in her expression with my wide eyes. She looks calm and relaxed and there’s definitely desire in those smokey eyes. “I would really hate to waste money by not using them.”
“I appreciate a frugal woman,” I tell her with a cheeky grin. “Let me show you how much.”
I lift her, and she wraps her legs around my waist.
Our mouths find each other again as I walk us backward, out of the front entryway and toward the staircase.
17
Chloe
Our lips stay lockedthe entire way up to my bedroom. I keep my legs hooked around his waist as he gently lays me back on my bed because I am obsessed with the feel of him rutted up, hard and thick, against the long-neglected spot between my legs.
We stay like this, just grinding and kissing, touching, pushing and pulling our bodies against each other, shirts lifting, jeans dipping, for a long time. It’s amazing and perfect like last night, but it’s not enough. I need more.
I drop my legs from his waist and my arms from around his shoulders. He thinks that’s a sign of hesitation and breaks the kiss, and his fingers that had been pressed between us undoing the button on my jeans stills. Our eyes connect. His mouth is pink and plump from the kissing. His eyes heavy with lust. He takes a deep but ragged breath. “We can slow down.”
“I know,” I say and start to sit up. He moves backward, off of me, and sits facing me on the bed.
“I mean it, Chloe. I’m not that guy who needs to go straight for the bedroom,” he promises me, and he leans forward and ghosts my lips with his. “Something about you makes me want to lose control, but I have spent the last five years controlling every aspect of my life. I am willing to try and control this—my need for you—if it’s what you need.”
His need for me. Oh my God, no man has ever told me he needed me. That I was a desire he could barely control. That gives me more confidence than I’ve had in…well, forever.
“You can follow all the made-up rules about waiting and still end up losing,” I say in a murmur, running my fingertips along the back of his neck and into his hair. My eyes find his again. “You make me feel alive for the first time in half a decade. I don’t want to stop.”
No more words are spoken. He uses his mouth to communicate in a different way. He kisses me again, deep, hard, and long as we start peeling off each other’s clothes.
The light in the hall is on, the bedroom door open. Between that and the moonlight and streetlight tumbling in from my open bedroom window, the room is way more lit than his apartment was last night. He will see me, really see me, for the first time. I’m naked, scars and all, in front of this beautiful, sexy, equally naked man, but my heart is racing for all the right reasons. I’m exposed but not vulnerable, excited but not nervous. My body is turned on but my brain is blissfully turned off.
As his fingers find their way inside me, I let out a sound, a soft wavering moan which he captures in a kiss. When the kiss breaks, he murmurs. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I touch him, wrap my hand around his length, and he melts into me. He needs this and wants this just as much as I do. Desperation chokes his confession, and it takes away all my inhibitions.
“Where are those condoms?”
I sit up, reach for the drawer on my night table, and pull it open. Inside is the newly purchased, unopened box. Logan stands up beside the bed as he grabs the box and opens it, pulling out a condom. I swing my feet over the side of the bed and watch. I know watching him slide that on is going to be the hottest thing ever. He’s so confident in his body, in himself. It’s sexy beyond words.
He starts to tear it open, but he stops and leans over me, and I hold his face and kiss him again. But then he slowly drops to his knees, and his hands gently hold my hips. Suddenly a flicker of insecurity starts to battle with my lust. He’s so close to my torso, eye-level with all the scars and rolls that have happened due to skin puckering and the fact that I can’t exercise like I used to before the crash. But he doesn’t even glance at any of that. He kisses my left knee and looks up at me through lashes much more lush than any man should be allowed to have.
He’s kissing his way up my thigh, and his hands are slipping down the outside of my legs while his lips ghost up the inside. Longing wins the war with insecurity because the idea of his mouth, his tongue, exploring me intimately is suddenly as essential to my existence as air or food. My legs fall open and my head falls back before he even presses his lips to my core. And then he does andoh my God. My hands slip into is hair, and with zero shame, I hold him to my pussy as he takes long, slow licks. I come seconds later, hard and fast. My hands drop from his hair, but it doesn’t matter, his pressure doesn’t decrease. I wasn’t holding him to me, he was leaning in, as ravenous to give me pleasure as I was to take it.
He kisses my thighs again, and as I lay panting on the bed, I can hear him tear open the condom wrapper, but then he seems to hesitate, so I open my eyes. “Don’t stop.”
He smiles. “I wasn’t going to, trust me. I was just enjoying the view. You are so fucking hot, Chloe, all wet, quivering and panting.”
Butterflies swirl in my belly. And then, when he slides into me, I’m lighter and freer and happier than I have been in half a decade. I find myself running from a new, impending orgasm rather than chasing it. I want this feeling, his skin against mine, his body inside mine, his lips over mine, to last forever. But it’s a battle I can’t win, and with a crushing, blinding force, I’m overcome by another incredible orgasm. I’m heavy and light, tingling and numb, happy and euphoric all in one long, blissful, pulsing instant.
“Chloe…” my name rasps out of him and he pushes hard and fast, over and over. I tilt my hips and palm his perfect ass. He suddenly shudders and comes with a deep guttural grunt of satisfaction.
My hands move to wrap around his back. I want to keep him against me. I’m not ready to let go. His lips tickle my collarbone as he whispers words I can’t hear against my skin. I know they’re beautiful, I can feel them even if I can’t hear them.
18
Logan
In her bathroomthe next morning, I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. I look happy. Iamhappy. Sex does that, but this—the feeling in my chest of contentment bordering on euphoria—comes from more than just coming for the first time in a long time with another human being. This feeling comes from all the stuff that makes up this particular other human being. Chloe’s vulnerability, her sensuality, her spirit, and more than anything, her complete and unwavering trust in me. She trusted me to help her when she needed it, she trusted me with her affection, and now with her body, and hopefully soon her heart. Because as crazy and insane as it seems, I think I’m already trusting her with mine.
I run my hands through my hair and turn to find her standing in the doorway. She’s got my t-shirt on and a pair of baby pink, or blush as she would call it, underwear. She looks ridiculously sexy. I’m still butt naked, which I remember when her smoky eyes sweep over me. She walks over and kisses me, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Do you have time for breakfast before work?”
