We turned off the water. Didn't bother with towels. Stumbled back to the bed, both of us dripping, leaving wet footprints on the hotel carpet. He pushed me down onto the mattress and I went—fell back against the sheets, water from my hair soaking into the pillow. He stood over me. Naked. Dripping. Hard. The lamplight and the bathroom steam making him look like something out of a dream.
Then he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed.
"My turn," he said.
Chapter 25: Alex
Iwrapped my hand around him and everything in my chest recalibrated.
The weight of him. The heat. The way he filled my grip—thick and hard. My lip caught between my teeth before I could stop it.
"God, you're big," I said.
My thumb traced the vein along the underside and his hips jerked off the mattress. The responsiveness of him—instant, unguarded—sent a pulse of heat straight down my spine.
"Alex—"
I licked the head. Salt and clean skin and something underneath that was just Liam—raw, specific, impossible to replicate. My tongue circled once before I took him in. The weight of him on my tongue, the stretch of my lips around the width, the wet heat of my own mouth surrounding him.
I pulled off. Licked down the shaft. All the way to the base, following the vein, feeling the pulse of him against my tongue. Then lower—finding his balls, taking one into my mouth, sucking gently while my hand kept stroking the shaft.
"You taste so good," I said against his skin. And I meant it. The intimacy of this—his most vulnerable self on my tongue—was intoxicating in a way I hadn't anticipated. "I've been wanting to do this all week."
"All week?"
"Since the bridge." I licked back up. Took him deep again—deeper this time, testing my own limits, feeling him hit the back of my throat.
"Watched you undress in the locker room this week. I almost lost my fucking mind."
The curse word felt foreign in my mouth. A word my father would never say. A word I'd stolen from Liam's world because nothing polished could touch what I felt.
I kept going. My mouth and my hand finding a rhythm. His thigh tensed under my palm. His breathing changed. I read every signal and used it for devotion.
My fingers dug into his thigh. His hips were starting to move—small, involuntary thrusts he was trying to control. I took him deeper to show him he didn't have to.
"I could do this forever," I murmured.
Then I proved it. Took him deep enough that his hands flew to my hair and his body went rigid and a sound came out of him that made my cock throb against the mattress.
I pulled off. Kissed up his stomach—the ridges of muscle, the trail of dark hair. Then his chest. His neck. Each press of my lips leaving heat on skin that was already burning.
I climbed on top of him. Straddling his hips. My weight settling over him. And the moment our cocks pressed together the friction when I rocked my hips pulled a groan from both of us simultaneously. The synchronization unconscious.
The way everything was with us.
I kissed him. Deep and slow and filthy. My tongue in his mouth, and he could taste himself on me, which should havebeen strange but was instead another form of intimacy—our bodies already shared, already mixed, the boundaries dissolving. My hips rolled against his. His hands found my ass, pulled me tighter, the slide of our cocks together.
Something shifted in me. Deeper than friction. Deeper than heat.
I rose up on my knees. Reached behind myself and took him in my hand. Angled him. Pressed the head against my hole.
Liam's breath stopped.
I pressed back. Just enough to feel him there—the blunt pressure, the heat of him against me, the tight resistance of my own body against something it hadn't done before. Not inside. Just the promise. The edge of a threshold I could feel myself wanting to cross.
"Alex—"
"I want to," I said. My voice was shaking. "I want you inside me."
