The hotel is all marble hush and city light. The second the door clicks shut, my back hits it; I gasp against his mouth. He catches my wrists and pins them above my head, something emerging from him I didn’t expect, something primal, born from the wait, the knowing, the way it’s built in him all night. The sound he makes pulls me under. In one quick sweep of his hands, my dress is gone, flung over my head, and we both laugh at the speed of it, chasing the joy with our mouths, greedy.
He walks me backward toward the bed, his hands framing my face, trusting him enough to fall blindly into whatever comes next. When he lays me down, spreading my thighs like it’s the only thing he'sthought of since he touched me at dinner, I wrap my legs around him and wish I could blink away everything still between us. When I reach for his waist, fumbling with his belt, he stops me, flips us, and I’m straddling him in a single motion that makes the room spin.
“I could get a concussion like that,” I say, leaning in, pressing against him. The groan he makes is involuntary and I know it.
“I’m sorry. What can I say? You make me reckless.”
He drags me with authority, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, guiding me wherever he wants. We crash into a kiss that threatens to finish me right there, until he suddenly pulls back, focused on some wordless mission. In one swift motion, both hands slide up my thighs, find my tights and tear them near the center. The fabric he rips unravels instantly, the remnants reduced to little more than shredded garters, a spider web of nylon.
I gasp. “Rafe! What the—”
“Don’t question the methods,” he says a little breathless, voice deeply amused. “Just worry about the results.” Then he presses into me, and the feeling is so intense I forget how to breathe. He lies back, eyes bright with mischief. “I wantyou,” he says, voice low and teasing, “all of you.” He taps his chin. “Sitting,right here.”
“Do you now?” I laugh, scandalized but a little thrilled too. We've doneso muchtogether, in so many ways, but this seems bolder than anything else so far. The idea of it, this man I've watched on screens and stages all my adult life, wanting that level ofcloseness, sends a nervous chill jolting through me.
Is he serious?
I shouldn't feel embarrassed but I do. He just grins, hands finding my waist, guiding me higher as I give in to his suggestion. The laughter still lingers, but my pulse stumbles. I’m still clinging to resistance, barely, until his eyes graze over me, every dip and curve, taking his timeuntil he's had his fill. When he finally meets my gaze, his eyes darkened by a cocktail of lust and admiration, everything inside me surrenders. There’s something in his awe that feels like both a question and an offering. His hands move along my thighs, coaxing me with tender patience, breaking down every last thread of hesitation.
"See? Your body knowsexactlywhere it belongs, even when your head’s trying to be sensible.” His voice dips low and rough. “With me.”
Something changes in the pit of my stomach. It’s no longer fear, just the dizzying edge of being wanted so fully, to be made open, together. His arms loops around my thighs, drawing me closer until there’s no space left to hide. I attempt to joke, the words caught in my throat, futilely playing at protest that he’ll suffocate, until he drags me down onto him with one final pull and proves me wrong in the best way. The first swipe of his tongue is shocking. Every nerve catching fire. The rest is pure sensation, his focus, his patience, the rhythm he builds until I’mlostin it.
My hands twist in his hair; my breaths break apart with every exhale. My body moves on instinct, arching into him, chasing every pulse of pleasure until it becomes everything. The sounds that escape me barely sound human. Ifeelhis smile against me, maddening and sure, before his tongue presses deeper, slower, until I’m moving with the pattern he writes against me. My body chases it without thought, self-consciousness unable to stop the flood of heat and raw desire I feel with every gift his mouth gives me. When I finally break, it’s like falling through the sky. I can’t tell where I end and he begins. When it’s over, he lingers, one last flick of his tongue over every sensitive part he just set alight, stealing one more gasp from me.
He waits until I roll onto my side, heaving for breath like I’ve run to heaven and back. It feels like I have, like he’s some celestial guide and I’ve already forgotten what life on earth is like. My skin feelslike it belongs to him, the drops of sweat evaporating, goosebumps coming to life under his magic. I feel alive and utterly boneless. He settles beside me, watching silently, studying the tremors still coursing through me. He leans in, his whisper brushing my neck more than my ear, so he can see every reaction.
“Still with me in there? Whatever you do, don’t head toward the white light.”
I let out a weak laugh between pants. “I won’t. Too much to live for.”
“Good,” he says, voice warm. “I’m not done with you yet. No checking out early.”
I laugh again, softer this time. When his fingers trace my thigh, I shiver, proof that I’m still here, and entirely his. For a moment I’m utterly gone. My focus drifts along the pattern of the ceiling, the ridges, the shadows the lampshade casts along it. Slowly but surely I’m drawn down to earth, to the sound of him breathing, the traffic outside, voices down the hallway. When I finally return to my body, to him, he’s still watching me, smiling like he can’t believe what just happened, how wrecked he made me.
“You’refar toosmug,” I manage. “You owe me a pair of tights.”
He laughs as I curl into him, his arm looping around me, lips brushing my ear.
“I think I can manage that.”
“Youthink? Bank account empty?” I murmur against his chest. We both hold on tight, staying perfectly still. I cling to him, something foolish in me believing that if we justdon’t movereality won’t touch us. That time won’t find us. Suddenly a car alarm in the parking lot goes off and we both startle, laughing at the disruption inside ourblissful cocoon.
Then, just like that, the world rushes back in, the weight of tomorrow, the flights, the distance. The fact that this is thelast nightwe’ll have like this for almost two months. It hits us both at once, like waking up after a dream. Without another word, he pulls me close, whispering against my hair.
“We’ll be under the same sky, Kasia.Two months, that’s all. It’ll be over before you know it. Then I’ll be annoying you every weekend. You’ll learn to hate L.A. just like I do, but we’ll make it bearable.Together.”
I want to believe him. But my heart feels like it’s being torn in two.
When I wake, it’s to the sound of the steady rhythm of his breathing behind me. Rafe’s arm is heavy across my waist, his body curved around mine, skin warm against the sheets. For a few seconds, I let myself stay there, eyes closed, counting the rise and fall of his chest, the faint heartbeat pressed to my back. It feels like the world’s been reduced to the silence of this room, the space between his inhale and mine.
Then his phone buzzes. Once. Twice. Reality slides in like a draft through the window. We’re already behind.
He groans when I shift, half awake, pulling me tighter. “No,” he mumbles, voice rough. “Five more minutes.”
“Rafe,” I say softly, turning to face him. “It’s not five minutes anymore.”
The words sink in. He sighs, kisses my forehead, and drags himself out of bed. I watch him disappear toward the shower while I start gathering my things, the jacket slung over the chair, my charger tangled in his cords, my makeup bag hiding under a shirt he discarded. The sound of water hits, steady and hot. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, hair a mess, wearing nothing but his old t-shirt and let out a half laugh before going to brush my teeth.
