The kiss deepens almost immediately, like we’ve both been holding our breath for six years and finally let it out at the same time. Jesse’s mouth is hot and insistent, tasting faintly of cinnamon and something darker I can’t place. It’s enough to make my knees threaten to give. Surprisingly, I don’t notice his tongue piercing right away, but once my tongue touches it, I feel feral. A jolt of pure desire shoots down my spine, and I kiss him deeper, wanting more. I lick deep into his mouth, chasing the piercing like I could wrap my tongue around it. Jesse groans, and I know I’m done for.
He takes the drink from my hand and sets it on the table without breaking the kiss. My hand fists in the fabric of his shirt, fingers brushing the warm skin underneath where it hangs open. His chest is hard under my palm, and I can feel the rapid beating of his heart. He makes a noise low in his throat that sparks something hungry in me.
He presses closer, walking me backwards, our mouths crashing together again and again in sloppy, urgent kisses that make me feel twenty-one all over again. My teeth catch his lower lip. His hand slides from my jaw down to my waist, curling in my sweater like he’s daring me to pull away.
I don’t. I can’t.
The room tilts as he urges me deeper into the suite, surrounded by flickering firelight and glass and shadow. We bump into something solid–his hip hitting the edge of a table, a glass rattling. He doesn’t notice, and we don’t stop.
By the time my calves hit the edge of the sofa, I’m breathless, pulse hammering like I sprinted from Shreveport rather than flew. He pushes gently, urging me down until I sink onto the plush cushions. He follows, a knee pressing between mine,mouth never leaving mine, hands braced on either side of me like he’s caging me in.
It’s overwhelming. The city lights blazing beyond the windows, the fire crackling behind us, the relentless spinning of the world’s axis as our kiss spirals hotter, rougher. Jesse’s tongue slides against mine almost desperately, kissing me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he stops.
I’ll worry about what all of this means later. For now, I let myself forget everything–the cameras, the chaos, the way our worlds don’t line up. For now, it’s just us, tangled in heat and memory and the kind of want that swallows me whole.
With trembling hands, I grip Jesse’s body, fingers digging into his thigh as I pull him flush against me. He fits against me perfectly, every angle of him pressing in, melting into the curve of my body like he belongs there. I arch up into him without thinking, a groan escaping before I can choke it back.
He swallows it like fuel, and it ignites him. One hand sliding into my hair, the other gripping my waist where the hem of my sweater has ridden up. His thumb strokes absent circles over my Adonis belt, sending shivers racing up my spine. My hands wander without thought, over his ass and up the firm line of his back under the silky fabric of his shirt.
It’s terrifying how easy this is. How natural it feels to touch him, to get lost in him, to ache for more from someone who is still little more than a stranger.
The room blurs. City lights outside bleed into the flicker of candles, the crackling of the fire muffled by the rush of blood in my ears. The only thing I can focus on, the only thing sharp and real, is Jesse. The rasp of his breath against my cheek, thesoftness of his skin against mine, the way he drags his teeth across my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth.
My head tips back against the sofa, surrendering myself to his touch. He kisses down my throat, biting softly where my pulse jackhammers. I gasp, hips jerking, and he answers with a growl that vibrates against my skin, grinding his pelvis against mine.
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
I’m seconds away from coming in my pants. My hands fist in his shirt, tugging him closer, until there’s nothing between us but heat and the dangerous wish that there were no layers of clothes between us as we writhe against each other.
I could lose myself in him all over again and never come up for air.
It’s a sobering thought that pulls me back just enough for the realization that if I don’t stop us now, I won’t have the strength to. My self-control is thin and frayed, close to snapping at the feel of his hot, insistent mouth moving down my neck, his fingers reaching between me to unfasten the button of my jeans.
“Jesse–” My voice cracks. I bring my hands up to his chest to push him away, but the feeling of a rumble moving through him has me digging my fingers into his shirt and holding on. I’m not pushing him away like I should, but I’ve stopped him from going further.
“Fuck. Say it again,” he rasps, his voice little more than a desperate growl. “Say my name again.”
“Jesse…”
“Luc,” he gasps, trembling, like the sound of his name on my lips is enough to push him over the edge. He drops his head onto my shoulder and shudders.
God help me, that makes it even harder to breathe. I move a hand from his chest to the back of his head, gripping his hair to pull him up so I can look into his eyes. His eyes are darker and dilated, wild and desperate. He looks as wrecked as I feel.
I forget all about caution or slowing down. Instead, I pull him down to slam my mouth against his. I suck his tongue into my mouth and play with the ball on the underside. My other hand slides around his waist and down the back of his jeans, gripping his ass and guiding him to grind against me while I roll my hips into him. One thrust, then two, fingernails digging into skin. Three, and…
He lets out a choked moan, and I swallow it down hungrily, giving in to the warm pleasure building at the base of my spine. My release follows his, warm, wet cum drenching the inside of my briefs. We both gasp for breath, moaning as we rub ourselves together, riding out the wave of pleasure unlike anything I’ve felt since that night six years ago.
EIGHT
JESSE
I lean against the balcony rail, a clove cigarette burning between my fingers, the smoke curling up into the night. Below me, the city sprawls in a scatter of glittering lights, endless and alive, but I can’t focus on anything but the echo of Luc’s mouth on mine, his body beneath me, the sounds he made as he came undone. My chest still hums with it, like the aftershock of a song that won’t stop playing.
I drag in another breath of spice and smoke, let it fill my lungs, then exhale slowly. I should feel satisfied. Instead, I feel restless. I should’ve drawn it out longer, or something. Thought ahead so he wouldn’t be in the bathroom right now trying to clean himself up. I could’ve done that for him.
With my mouth.
Behind me, the glass door slides open, and Luc steps onto the balcony. He looks damn near perfect again, not a hair out of place, except for the faint blush that hasn’t left his cheeks since he excused himself.
