Chapter 11 #2
A breathless chuckle slipped out of me. “Hey, are you in there?”
He nodded slowly, parted his lips, and let out a soft, “Wow.”
That’s when it hit me—this was the first time Atty had ever seen me play. Really play.
Heat climbed up my already flushed neck. “Sorry. That might’ve been a bit much. I was just venting a little.”
Atty took a step toward me. “Does it help?”
“A lot, yeah.” The anger was still there, simmering under the surface, but it had quieted. And right now, with the way he was looking at me—something like awe written across his face—other emotions were starting to take precedence.
Another step. “Are you going to keep going?”
“No, that might’ve been enough. My arms are sore.”
His gaze dropped. I felt it like static along my skin as he looked me over. Lingering. Dragging. Reverent.
Fuck.
I couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at me like that. Quickly, everything started to blur into want. Atticus King was looking at me like I was a fucking superhero, and it made my chest swell about a million sizes too big. I’d missed this. I’d missed him.
My lips felt dry—my whole throat felt dry—and I stuck my tongue out to wet them. His gaze tracked the motion, magnetized. He closed the distance between us until we were just a foot apart. I was already on my feet, head tilted back to keep staring at him.
There wasn’t a sharp snap, no sudden electricity—just a quiet, sure surrender, and a single thought: fuck it.
I pushed him gently onto the bed and climbed into his lap while his hands found my hips like they belonged there. Our mouths met, and the world stopped spinning.
Yes.
His kiss started slow, letting me savor him, letting me keep the pace—to really feel all of his intensity.
Then his hands tightened, and in a blur, I was flipped onto my back, his weight settling between my legs.
When his lips came back to mine, it was rougher.
The power shifted, and I gave in, letting him take over the way he’d been craving lately.
He felt so good.
As soon as his shirt hit the floor and his skin pressed to mine, it was like my brain hit pause. Everything narrowed to him. To us.
A second later, our shorts were gone too, and our bodies writhed together, chasing the high we gave each other.
He reached for my shirt, but with the room still faintly lit, I tugged it down, and he soon forgot about it—distracted by the slow drag of his hands over my ribs, down my back.
I couldn’t remember the last time he’d made me feel like this—like a swipe of his tongue could erase everything and all I had to do was hold on to that rush and nothing else in the world mattered—
My eyes snapped open.
Oh, fuck.
“Atty, slow down,” I said as his kisses trailed down to my neck.
His hands kneaded my ass, pulling me against him as his hips rolled over mine.
“Fuck.”
He bit down on my skin before returning to my lips, devouring them.
Gone was the soft, tentative Atty. This version of him was feral with want. His hands moved with a new urgency. It still felt good, but something was off. Something I’d been trying to name for a while but hadn’t managed to.
Until now.
Because in the shadow of that phone call, it was suddenly clear what we were both trying to do.
“Atty,” I said again, turning my face away.
He grabbed my chin, holding me still. That didn’t feel like him either.
I pushed at his shoulders. “Let’s slow down.”
He shook his head and reached past me toward the nightstand. I shot my hand up and slammed the drawer shut before he could grab anything.
The snap echoed.
His eyes locked with mine. “Why are you stopping again?”
Atty had a tell when he was angry. His face was so impassive it could seem like he was always in a bad mood, even though he rarely was. But right now? That tell was unmistakable. He was grinding his teeth.
“Because we can’t have sex,” I told him.
“Why not?”
I almost laughed at the petulance in his tone.
“Because we can’t. Not right now. It’s not right. We need to take a minute.”
“I don’t want that. I want you. We already talked about this. Why are you pushing me away?”
A million reasons why this wasn’t the right choice for us raced through my head, but his hard body—and cock—were still pressed against me. The animalistic part of my brain wasn’t on board with my resistance, so what came out of my mouth wasn’t exactly ideal.
“Because you’re too desperate for it.”
His eyes widened, pain flashing through them in an instant.
Oh, fuck. “No! That’s not what I meant. I take it back,” I said quickly, but he was already climbing off me and the bed, reaching for his shorts.
He pulled his clothes back on roughly. “You keep putting up this wall, Noah. I don’t fucking get you.”
“I did that before.” I dressed myself and followed him off the bed. “But I’m not right now. This isn’t a wall—it’s a boundary.”
“Were you lying when you said you wanted me?” There was so much hurt etched across his expression.
“Atty, I want to have sex with you more than I want to take my next breath.” I blocked his path before he could reach the door. “That’s not what this is about.”
“Then why? Because I’m being too easy? If you want me to play hard to get, you actually have to try to get it.”
That made me chuckle—another terrible decision.
His scowl was firmly in place and one hundred percent directed at me. “Don’t fucking laugh at me!”
“It’s nervous laughter, I swear. Just listen to me for a second.”
“No!” he snapped.
I stilled.
“I don’t want to listen to you. What I want to do is leave, because I’m fucking embarrassed and confused, and I don’t want this to turn into a fight again.”
It felt like someone had yanked the air out of my lungs. “It’s not a fight. I’m just… I’m shit at saying the right things sometimes, and today, I’m all messed up. Just sit for a second and I’ll explain—”
“You’re messed up today?”
“Yeah—”
“So you talked to your mother, and everything goes to shit again?”
Fuck.
I lowered my voice. “No. Please just stay and talk to me.”
“No.” His tone was final. “I’m going to cool off.”
I let go of his arm.
He gave me a sharp nod and walked out.
I raked my hands through my hair and tugged, then dropped face-first onto the bed. “Shit!”