His thumb lands on my clit and I exhale more audible groans, moans, and sighs, which only drive him to work harder.
My insides are on fire. My skin is warm and tingly. My pulse is racing. The orgasm building inside me is like a sneeze that needs to come out but stubbornly holds its ground, refusing to hit until exactly the right moment. And oh, how I need it.Please. Please. Please.
Then, it’s gone.He’sgone. And my entire body screams in protest. My mouth almost screams as well, until I see him opening a drawer and pulling out a condom. He doesn’t put it on yet. He simply lays it next to him.
He sees me eye the square package in confusion. Settling between my thighs again, he pulls my hips until his mouth is almost touching me, then says with a breath that I canfeel, “You first.” Before the last word leaves his lips, his mouth is on me. His tongue in me.
I fist the sheets as he feasts on me. His tongue is in and out. Up and down. Swirling. Teasing. Tempting. He sucks on my clit and fills me with his fingers, crooking them in search of the place that will surely bring me to heights I’ve never reached before. He could stop right this moment and this experience would still surpass any other.
But he doesn’t stop. Not even close. He pushes on, determined to make good on his promise.
Moments later, he does.
My hands grip his shoulders, my fingers digging into his flesh as my pelvis bucks against him while I gloriously fall apart beneath him, swirling into a cloud of fantasy, ecstasy, and euphoria, an earthquake of emotions pulsating through me.
Before I can even remember where I am, he’s pushing inside me, his rhythmic thrusts in perfect synchronization with every beat of my heart. I wrap my calves around him, my lower half lifting off the bed each time he pulls back.
His face contorts into an expression of painful and pleasurable bliss as he thrusts once more. “Kenna… Jesus… ungh…” He stills inside me, his back arched as he rides his own climactic wave.
Fully spent, he collapses down onto me, his face nuzzling into my neck. When he realizes his weight has stolen the breath out of me, he rolls to the side, staring at me under the bright overhead light neither of us bothered to turn off.
I don’t dare tell him he’s just given me the best orgasm I’ve ever had. That’ll remain a secret I carry with me when I’m gone.
A sudden wave of sadness roils through me. Wave? No, it’s a dang tsunami. Because what I feared would happen… has. I’ve one-hundred-percent fallen for the guy lying next to me.
Oblivious to my inner musings, he chuckles. “Well, that was unexpected.” He runs a finger down my right arm. “Amazing, but unexpected.” He motions to a door on his left. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
I shake my head. Because at this point, I simply have no words. I’m going to walk out of here in a few days. A week at most. And I’m going to take my broken, fragile heart with me.
“Be right back then,” he says, hopping out of bed.
I stare after him, once again admiring his large back tattoo, when something else catches my eye. It’s another smaller tattoo on his right calf. It too is black and white, but with a splash of something green on top. He’s too far away for me to make it out. What is it? Why did he get it? There’s a reason behind every tattoo, and I’m suddenly eager to know his… and everything else about him.
But I won’t ask. Because knowing more about him might make it even harder to leave.
I should leave well enough alone. I should take this memory and keep it in a little box in the back of my mind. I can pull it out from time to time to get me through the lonely days ahead. The tortuous nights. Through a lifetime of never finding another… him.
I should get up. Go downstairs and stay there until I pack our things and go.
But I don’t.
I don’t because I’m foolish.
I don’t because my body is still thrumming.
I don’t because deep down, I want what every other woman wants. I want the fairy tale.
Even deeper down, though, is the voice telling me I can’t have it.
Chapter Nineteen
Carter
I tie off the condom and throw it in the trash before using the toilet. Turning the sink on, I hesitate before running my hands under the tepid water. I’m sad to be washing her scent off me. Is it crazy to hope this has changed anything? Or will I emerge to find an empty bed?
In my haste to know the answer, I don’t even finish drying my hands before I open the door, my breath in my throat. I let it out when I see her lying in my bed, a sheet tucked comfortably around her.
Flipping the overhead light off, replacing the harsh light with the softer glow of the bedside lamp, I crawl into bed, lying down on the pillow facing her.
