Her soft huff of amusement penetrates my shirt, warming the skin beneath. “And he told you to take your shirt off?”
“It’s complicated.”
Nora
I can’t sleep. It’s close to one, and I’ve given up even trying. Otto won’t need a bottle for another couple hours, and here I am, staring at Damien in the dim light of my phone’s clock screen.
I didn’t get Stella out of her drawer tonight, don’t want to think about her. Instead, I’m staring at the outstretched arms of my plant of potential. One more inch on that vine on the right, and I’ll be able to put another hook up, letting him reach even farther. I wonder how far he’ll stretch before I have to leave for Paris.
I blink, my throat suddenly tight with the realization Damien won’t come with me. I might be able to bring a cutting. Maybe. But it won’t be Damien. Not really. It will be a fresh start for us both. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. But the more I think about it, the worse I feel. I hate the idea of leaving behind what I’ve started here.
I’m thinking about Axel and what’s been growing between us these past two months. Friendship and trust and that ill-fated attraction. I’m thinking about that horrible date tonight and the feel of Axel’s arms around me.
I’m thinking how tired I am of waiting for my life to finally begin.
My heart starts to beat harder, my mind beginning to reel.
And then I’m climbing out of bed and moving into the hall toward his door. I raise my hand to knock, drawing back at the last second. What am I doing? We’ve talked about this. Am I really considering suggesting something short-term? I don’t want to be like Drake, but— but nothing.
My fingers tingle from the absence of contact, but Axel’s got a game tomorrow night. The man needs to sleep, not some late-night visit from his son’s nanny.
I take a breath and turn to go, but his door opens before I make it a step. Oh God, what am I doing here? He’s bare-chested, his hair in sexy disarray. Eyes alert and focused on me, like maybe I wasn’t the only one awake. Why does that make me shiver?
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t ask what I want.
Just takes my hand in the warm grasp of his and pulls me into his room.
And I follow.
I don’t ask what he’s doing when his fingers slide into my hair or tell him we should stop when the hand still holding mine folds behind my back. I don’t wonder if we’re making a mistake when our bodies meet and his mouth touches mine.
I know we are. Just like I know I can’t stop what’s happening any more than he can.
We kiss. A gentle press of lips that somehow feels like equal parts relief and desperation. Like the perfect now and the need for more.
More.
Opening beneath him, I take the slow thrust of his tongue and low growl rumbling up from his chest. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, spurring a needy clench deep in my center.
His hand fists in the loose sleep shirt at my back, and my hips cant forward in search of his.
Oh God.
I gasp at the contact, searching it out again and again until Axel reaches down to catch me by the back of the knees and lifts me up and against him. Carrying me the few feet to the bed, he lays me down and positions himself so one knee is notched between my legs, one arm curled around the top of my head while the other grips my hip.
For a moment, his eyes search mine.
A question in their depths.
I answer by threading my fingers into his hair and pulling him to me. My whimper when he deepens our kiss is all that breaks the silence, like somehow, we’ve agreed whatever this is that’s happening between us is too fragile for words.
Like if we don’t talk, if we don’t ask the questions, we don’t have to hear the answers. So instead, we just feel.
His touch is tender, gentle. We’re wrapped in each other’s arms, drowning in the taste of this reprieve from the right thing and responsible action. From all the reasons that what’s happening now shouldn’t be.
I shudder beneath his roving touch.
Our breaths come hard and harsh between devouring kisses, our bodies seeking more contact, more friction.
I’m inexperienced. I’ve only been with one other man, and it wasn’t the culmination of some long-building attraction or emotion. It was mechanical and awkward. Me trying to check a box so I could feel like I wasn’t missing all the things that matter. But being here in Axel’s bed, my body on fire, fueled by this connection between us we can’t shut down, I understand.
I was missing everything.
Not now, though. In this moment, I’m alive.
I’m not missing a thing.
And the fact that this quiet, stolen night won’t last… that’s something I’ll face tomorrow.
Axel rocks into me, and I gasp again, my hands running over his back, my legs twining around his. Holding him close, urging him on, and asking for more. He pushes up my shirt, moving to my breast. His tongue and teeth tease my nipple until that deep pulsing need inside has me crying out.
And then we’re working together to shed our clothes, moaning as skin comes into contact with skin, and this blazing heat becomes an inferno. He strokes through the slickness between my legs, pushing a single thick finger inside me.
So good.
So deep.
I cling to his shoulders as he pumps in and out until I’m writhing with him, my body clinging and clenching with each stroke. He adds another, filling and stretching me, tightening the connection that’s tangling around us.
He crooks his fingers, finding a place where sensation gravitates, building and building on itself, intensifying in a way I didn’t know was possible. My breath catches, coming to a stop as he hovers over me, and eyes locked with mine, demanding, he strokes again.
“Axel!” My orgasm rips through me like a hurricane, battering hard with wave after wave of devastating pleasure.
I had no idea.
Imagination failed me.
What Axel just gave me was beyond anything fantasy could prepare me for.
And it isn’t over.
Summoning the last of my strength, I skim my hand between our bodies to where he’s pressed against my thigh. He’s hot under my palm, long and thick, and steely hard. I don’t know how to touch him or what would allow him a fraction of the pleasure he just gave me. But when I tentatively stroke, tipping my hips in offer, his answering groan tells me I’m not too far off base.
He leans over me, reaching for the drawer next to his bed. Once the condom is on, he covers my body with his again. I’m nervous. He’s so much bigger than the man I was with before, but I want this. All of him. For once, I want to let that connection complete. To stop trying to cut it short.
For tonight, I want everything. I want to give him everything.
And tomorrow… Well, tomorrow can wait until tomorrow.
Axel kisses me again, softly. Slowly.
Like on some level, he knows all the things I’m not telling him.
He teases me, and when I start to shift with need, he lines up, notching himself at my opening.
Emotion wells within me as I trace his face, his neck and shoulders still rigid with restraint. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes, and he lowers his head to kiss them away.
“Please,” I whisper, needing this. Needing him.