Page 79

But then I see it.

The email from Planned Parenthood that my results have been uploaded to the patient portal.

I have never been so grateful that an app allows Face ID because fuck if I know what my portal password is at a time like this.

As I click through my results, Henry gives me space. He doesn’t look over my shoulder or crowd me, but I can feel the weight of his eyes on me. I didn’t expect anything to come back. I’m pretty careful. But it’s always a relief. I look up once I’ve been through all the results with a smile. “All negative.”

“Me too.” Henry takes the phone out of my hand and places it on the bookshelf closest to where I’m standing, just an arm’s reach away. And then he finally allows himself to touch my bare torso, running his finger featherlight down the curve starting at the base of my bra to the thin line of lace at my hips, and back up. There is no hiding the way my whole body shivers at his touch. “So,” he says. “We’re both—” He gives a double thumbs-up with a click of his tongue.

I laugh, which I think was his goal with that awkward move, but then it all hangs in the air between us. What our results signify. The whole reason behind it.

“Does that mean—” I start, but then close my mouth. “Do you still want to…?” I should be able to say it like an adult, but I feel lightheaded from need and I really don’t want the end of that sentence to fall out of my mouth as Do you still want to raw-dog?

But he clearly knows what I’m asking, and that’s part of why we’re both breathing so shallow, exchanging the same hot air, our heads angled inches apart but no skin touching. “Yes. I mean, if you’re comfortable. It’s fine if you’re not. I bought a value-sized box of condoms when I got home so we’ll be good either way.”

I shake my head. “Hen, I want to feel you inside me. Just you.”

His body shudders at my words, and the next thing I know, I’m being hoisted in the air. My legs wrap around him as he kisses me, hard, his hands roaming against my bare ass. He takes a few steps toward the couch and stumbles, knocking into the coffee table with his shin and cursing into my mouth. I laugh, pressing a kiss into his collarbone so I’m not obscuring his vision. He finds the couch, laying me down gently on my back, and then tears the soft gray Henley off over his head before returning to my mouth.

We lie on the couch, making out like desperate teenagers until I can’t take it anymore. I push him up and slide out from underneath him. I kneel down on the shaggy rug in front of him and tug down Henry’s flannel pants and boxers together, before moving in between his calves. I have never in my life wanted to go down on a man as much as I want to go down on Henry Cole in this moment. I sit up on my knees, placing kisses on his thighs before taking him in my mouth. His hips buck in surprise, and I feel him grow even harder on my tongue, and then against the back of my throat.

Henry lets out a groan before reaching down and pulling me into his lap. “I don’t want to come in your mouth, Norah, and if I let you keep going, that’s how this will end. I have much bigger plans for us.” He palms the lace of my bra, seemingly mesmerized by my taut nipples visible through the thin fabric. I think his lips form the word perfect, but no sounds come out of his mouth. With one hand, he unhooks the bra, tossing it to the side as his mouth descends on my nipple, teeth pulling gently, infuriatingly, like I’m a treat he’s trying to savor.

Henry turns us slightly to lay me back down on the opposite side of the couch, before pulling my calves over his shoulders. His face disappears between my legs, one finger pushing the useless black lace to the side to make way for his tongue. When I start to feel the pressure building from the consistent circles he’s making, I tap his head with the heel of my palm, and he pops back up, planting a kiss on the inside of my thigh.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his hair a mess from my fingers.

“I didn’t want to come if you didn’t let me make you,” I answer, breathless.

“Norah. Please let me keep going. Please let me make you come. Your taste is driving me wild. Please.” His pupils are completely blown out, overtaking the blue of his eyes with want.

“Okay.” I nod, the desire in his eyes alone sending a pulse to my clit.

Henry resumes his position with so much intention, this time adding two fingers inside me as his tongue goes to work, and before long, I’m over the edge, the back of my hand falling over my mouth to stifle the feral sounds I can’t help but release. Without breaking his current movements to work me through the wave of my orgasm, Henry reaches up with his other hand to move mine from my mouth.

When I come back up for air, Henry takes my hands and pulls me up to a seated position next to him. He brushes his thumb against my jaw. “I always want to hear you come, Norah. Don’t ever smother those sounds. They go straight to my cock.”

I flush, eyes flicking down to the hard length of him, and stand up briefly, knees shaky, to finally slip off that drenched thong.

I turn back to face Henry and step one knee onto the couch, then the other, so that they’re straddling his hips, and kiss him hard. His fingertips trail along my bare back, and I want desperately to sink into him, but I keep my body hovering over his lap.

When I can’t take it any longer, when I feel his hips tipping toward me, I break the kiss, my hands on his shoulders, and pull back. “Henry, please let me feel you.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod, and he reaches down to guide himself to my entrance. He looks back up at me, and I’ve never been more certain that he’s in love with me. I take his face in my hands, and we hold each other’s eyes as I lower myself onto him, gasping with each inch. The pureness of him is almost too much before we even move. We stay there, completely still, just looking at each other, and it’s already transcendent. His cock pulses inside me, and I hum into the feeling of it.

Henry reaches for my hair, piled up on the top of my head. He tenderly pulls one loop of the elastic out, then the second. I wince, certain that my curls are way too messy to be loose at this moment in time, no way that they’ve still got any discernible pattern. But Henry shakes my hair out, helping the dark curls fall down my back, shoulders. He takes a gentle handful and kisses it. “So beautiful.”

Henry’s mouth finds my shoulder, my collarbone, the hollow of my throat, before we start to rock against each other. I want to wrap myself around him, bury my face in his neck, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his. He shifts his hips slightly and suddenly the angle makes me feel drunk at ten in the morning.

“God,” I sigh, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“You feel too good,” Henry says, his voice unsteady.

I couldn’t agree more. With every tiny movement, I feel certain that our bodies were crafted just for each other.

Henry lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He moves one hand to the small of my back, and the other between us, his thumb drawn to the spot where I’m aching for him. I arch into his hands, all my instincts telling me to shut my eyes, but I keep them open, his gaze still searing through me in a way that unravels me as I writhe into him.