“Maybe.” His eyes flash, a hint of lust.
“I’m willing to test that out if you are, but I’m telling you right now, you’re going to get your heart broken.” I raise an eyebrow, hoping I sound nonchalant when I feel anything but. I’m also hoping he doesn’t call my bluff. Maybe he’ll leave, maybe he’ll—
He pushes the door open wider and walks in, two long steps forward that make me take three long steps back. His gaze is set on mine, unyielding, and when he reaches me and brings a hand up to cup my face, I don’t move. His thumb caresses over my neck. I swallow, goosebumps spreading through me like wildfire. Bringing his face down, he kisses my lips. I feel myself sigh against him, my lips parting, my tongue ready to dance, explore, ready to let him do whatever it is he wants to me. I wish I wasn’t so pliant. I wish I was pushing him away or acting like this isn’t what I want, but that would be a lie because it’s all a lie. Every single thing I said was. It’s not his heart that’ll break, it’s mine. Again. For this, though? For this crackle and the fire that bubbles inside of me at his touch, I’ll take that risk.
We kiss like we’re trying to rip each other apart, like it’s a competition of who will get there first. I push into the kiss hard and he walks me back until my knees hit the couch and we’re both spilling over it, my back onto the cushions. I brace myself for his landing over me, but he breaks the kiss to catch himself and grabs my knee, opening my legs for him to step into. As soon as he does, I feel him, big and hard and ready for me. I meet his eyes again. This time, his hand cups me between my legs and his fingers begin to move against my mound. Sweet torture. My back bows off the couch, pleading for more. He delivers, sliding my shorts and panties to the side as his fingers slide into me, deep.
“You’re so wet.” He hisses, knuckle deep now, I’m pretty sure, since my eyes are rolling back and I feel him everywhere. “So wet.”
“God. Please.” I shut my eyes, panting, my hips moving against him.
I need this release. I need it. I need it. I need it. When I come, it’s fireworks underneath my eyelids and through my body, an explosion of pent-up energy and a release that’s years overdue. Not that I haven’t had sex since we broke up. That’s a lie. I’ve been with faceless men and we did bullshit things. When I open my eyes, Mitchell is looking down at me with an expression of complete wonder on his face. My heart skips again, and pulse racing, I grab him over his pants. He leans down over me, kissing me again, his lips bruising mine as I move my hand up and down, his low growl into my mouth pushing me to move my hand faster. He pulls away from the kiss and steps back slightly, my hand dropping onto my lap. He undresses and comes back to undress me completely, our clothes thrown in a heap across the room, the moonlight illuminating our naked bodies as he moves back and slides inside of me ever so slowly. I gasp at the feel of his girth, his length, his mouth on the side of my jaw when he bites me as he thrusts to the hilt.
We move together, his cock hitting a magical place inside of me that no one with the exception of my vibrator ever reaches, since no one else has cared to make the time to find it. Eyes on mine, he licks his thumb and brings it between us, sliding over my clit as he continues to move inside me, punishing thrusts that have my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Inside, I feel like I’m going to explode, like one more flick and my entire body will combust. My eyes pop open when I feel him pull out of me. His fingers move faster against my clit, his other hand pumping his cock as he watches me, and I start to come again as he comes on my stomach. It’s a beautiful sight, watching Mitch come undone like that, but I remind myself that it’s a short-lived moment of satisfaction because he won’t be here tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I glance over at the empty spot in the bed beside me and sigh. What did I expect? For him to stay? I shake my head at myself and stretch my arms over my head as I yawn, then let them fall when I hear a noise. Sitting up quickly, I grab the sheet and cover myself when I hear footsteps approach my room. The door pushes open and Mitch smiles as he leans against the doorframe, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Hey.”
I blink. “Hey.”
“I brought you this and a bagel. Cream cheese on the side.” He winks, pushes off the doorframe, and walks over to me, setting the coffee beside me on the nightstand. He kisses the top of my head and walks back out of the room like this is normal.
I take a sip of coffee, then get out of bed and rush to the bathroom. Once I’m done getting ready, I walk back out into the living room and find Mitch, foot propped on the coffee table, watching ESPN, eating a donut. He looks over and checks me out, his gaze like a caress over every inch of my body, the way his fingers were multiple times last night. I fight a blush.
“I thought you brought bagels?”
“I did.” He stands up, taking the last bite of his donut, and walks over to me. He kisses my mouth, a long, chaste kiss that leaves me dumbfounded. What is even happening? “You don’t like donuts though.”
“I don’t.” I frown. “How do you know all of these random things about me?”
“I pay attention. When we went to Colorado that year, everyone got Krispy Kreme and you said you only liked the hot chocolate.”
“That was like three years ago.” My frown deepens as I walk over to the bag where I assume the bagels are. “You’re so weird.”
“Because I pay attention?” He chuckles.
“Yeah, that’s some real stalker shit.” I pull out an everything bagel and slather light cream cheese, a quarter of what they spread on bagels in places.
“Yeah, well, I guess I’m a stalker then.”
I take a bite and look up at him. He’s standing on the other side of the counter staring at me. “What?”
“Nothing.” He smiles. “Last night was . . . ”
“Good. Yeah, I agree.” I swallow. “It’s not happening again.”
“Right.” He laughs.
“I’m serious.”
“Famous last words.” He shoots me a look. “We both know it’s happening.”
“What exactly do you want?” I set the bagel down. “A booty call?”
“No. We went over this. No. I want you.”
“You want me.” I scoff. “Is baseball still your first love?”
“I mean . . . ” He reaches a hand and cups the back of his neck, looking away briefly. “I love it, yeah.”
“Is it the number one thing in your life?”
“Yes.”
“Then no.” I shrug.
“No.” He walks around the counter. “No. I mean, yes it is but only because I don’t have you.”
“Me?” I laugh, putting a hand up. “Mitchell. Please.”
“I’m not kidding.” He stands flush against me, bringing an arm around my waist. Begrudgingly, I tilt my neck and meet his eyes. “I’m not kidding, Misty. I don’t want it. If I don’t have you by my side, what’s the point? I fucked up. We were young and I was stupid and blinded by ambition.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m no longer blinded by it.”