I smile against the top of her head. “Shh. Pay attention, baby.”
“The same goes for you.”
“I am.”
Just not to the TV show. Satisfied with the shallowness of her breathing and the way her head keeps lolling back against my chest, I test my luck, shamelessly tucking my hand inside her leggings and running my middle finger through the slick heat of her. I toy with her, my movements slow, never changing pace and avoiding her clit.
She whimpers, and when she pushes her legs apart in an attempt for more, I finally dip inside her. She gyrates her hips in response, trying to get my fingers deeper, but instead, I settle them over her clit.
“Watch the show, baby,” I whisper. “And I’ll give you what you want.”
Without a word, she nods, her body relaxing a fraction. As the credits of a new episode appear on the screen, I rub small, steady circles against her. Tuning out the noise from the show, I focus solely on Maya’s breathy whimpers and quiet moans. When I sense she’s close, I gently pinch the swollen bud. In response, she explodes, her orgasm washing over her like hot water, her hips writhing against me as she rides out the wild waves of pleasure.
Done with the pretense of watching TV, I scoop her up and head to my room. She’s languid as I lay her out on my bed, sated and drunk on her release, and her eyes are hazy as she watches me pull off my clothes and grab a condom.
Running a finger over her smooth skin, I wonder how I got so lucky. “You’re fucking art, Maya.”
I push into her with a long, languid stroke, burying myself deep. Tilting my hips back, I slide out so just my tip rests at her entrance. Then I slowly push back into her. Each move lights me up inside. But despite how desperate I am for her, I keep my pace unhurried, gentle. A dangerous guilt roars to life inside me as I use my body to remind her of how fucking good we are together. How right we are for one another. I fight against it, tamping it down.
Maya wraps her legs around my waist, her heels digging lightly into my lower back, allowing me to drive deeper and graze that sweet spot that always makes her gasp.
She murmurs my name like a prayer, and I moan. The sound of my name on her lips is almost enough to send me over the edge. She breathes it out like it’s the only thing keeping her steady.
I press an open-mouthed kiss against her neck and latch on to the sensitive skin with my teeth. And as I swirl my tongue around the mark to ease the sting, she sucks in a harsh breath, though she instinctively tips her head back to expose more of her neck.
Her choked plea for more spurs me on, my hips snapping with more force, allowing me to thrust harder and deeper. I press my thumb against her already sensitive clit as I ramp up my pace, relishing the sound of our combined moans. There’s nothing but heavy breathing, slick skin colliding, and whispered words of praise as the pit of fire in my lower belly flares.
Needing Maya to come again before I do, I scrape my teeth against her nipple. When she detonates, squeezing my dick tightly like I knew she would, I latch on to her breast and let go. The tingling in my spine turns into an explosion, releasing an uninhibited moan of satisfaction.
Chest still heaving, breaths still coming fast, I roll onto my back, taking Maya with me.
Eyes heavy lidded, she rests her chin on my chest and murmurs a sound of acquiescence.
“I love you.”
It’s through my lips and hanging in the air before I can process what I’ve said. This wasn’t how I planned to tell her. I’d hoped the confession would be accompanied by roses, and I had no intention of doing it naked. But now that it’s out there, I sink weightlessly into the words. They’re true. Truer than anything I’ve ever known. Maya’s my constant in a crazy world, a shining star my body responds to like it’s my true north. I love her.
Her lips part and she sucks in a surprised breath. “Cole, I…” She trails off, eyes moving to my chest rather than my face.
I know she loves me, too. It’s in the way she says my name and smiles at my touches. But knowing she isn’t confident enough or comfortable enough to return the sentiment? Yeah. It hurts a little.
I paste an understanding smile on my face despite the small pit that’s opened in my stomach. “You don’t have to say it yet, Maya. It’s okay.”
She looks back up at me through thick lashes, her eyes fathomless pools. “I just need a bit more time. I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
If either one of us has a reason to apologize, it’s me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
maya
The foodin the glass case that stretches across one side of the space makes my mouth water the second I step into the deli. It’s filled with everything from pastrami to roast beef. There are several Jewish delis between my apartment and here, but Goldblatt’s makes the best-corned beef sandwich in existence, so it’s more than worth the drive. As a bonus, I was certain the incessant ding of the cash register and the whirring blade of the meat slicer would help distract me from Cole’s demeanor these past few days. It hasn’t. Instead, it’s background noise as I rehash every one of our interactions over the last week.
“Should I get a corned beef sandwich with Russian dressing on rye bread,” Kennedy asks with downturned lips, “or smoked turkey with Swiss cheese and spicy honey mustard on farmhouse bread?”
“They both sound good,” Sophie muses. “I think I’ll get a tuna sandwich on gluten-free bread.”
