Chapter 3 Eris #2
I should say no.
Why don’t I ever say no?
It’s the way he’s looking at me, though… Like me questioning myself is already answer enough.
“Maybe,” I reply noncommittally, but I’m sure my smile gives me away. “Depends on how you ask.”
He leans closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Then let me try again.”
His hand finds the small of my back, guiding me toward the dance floor as the bass throbs beneath our feet, leading us to the climax of the night.
The world narrows to sound and heat and motion.
All the intricacies and complications in my life fade to a dull buzz in the back of my mind, leaving me focused on a single thought…
Him.
I don’t know what it is about him.
Maybe the way he watches me from across the bar, as if I’m the only thing worth looking at. Like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. Like the rest of the bar could burn, and he wouldn’t blink, because nothing matters except the space between his gaze and mine.
He doesn’t ask for my number or feed me a bullshit line. His flirting is natural, not intended to impress. He simply waits until I’ve finished my drink and deposits the glass on an empty table…
Then he grabs my hand and murmurs, “Come with me.”
There’s no pressure, even though it’s not a question.
It’s just gravity.
I go.
Because something in me wants to.
The hotel door clicks shut, submerging us in quiet darkness. I take a step toward him, and he’s already there, crowding into my space like he can’t stand the distance. One hand braces beside my head while the other curves around my hip, hot and firm as he cages me against the cool wall.
“You don’t talk much,” I murmur, lifting a brow.
His mouth twitches as if he wants to dispute my claim. “Not unless it matters.”
“And this matters?”
“It will.” His response is cocky… and hot.
I’ll be disappointed if this isn’t one of those one-night stands I want to repeat.
“What’s your name?” I ask, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt.
“Kieran.”
I roll it over in my head, tasting it softly. “I like it.”
He leans in close, lips at my ear. “Then say it when I’m inside you.”
That is my magic phrase tonight, turning me into a feral monster I have no control over.
I drag my tongue along the seam of his mouth just to feel him respond.
And he does.
God, does he.
Kieran groans into my mouth and nips at my bottom lip before deepening the kiss. He grabs the backs of my thighs and lifts me like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around him as if I’ve been in his arms before.
We stumble toward the bed, undressing each other between kisses. His shirt hits the floor, and I greedily run my hands over the ridges of his abs. My dress drops next, carelessly pooled by his feet. His fingers unhook my bra while I toss his belt across the room.
By the time my back hits the mattress, Kieran is all heat but still half-dressed. His hands are on my skin as if he’s starving for touch. Like he’s waited a lifetime and just got the green light.
“God,” he breathes as he peels off the last layer, gaze raking over me. “You’re unreal.”
“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” I say, voice rough with need.
Kieran smirks at me as his jeans and boxers join the trail of clothes we left behind. And that smirk stays firmly in place, hungry gaze fixed on mine, as he hooks his index fingers into the waist of my lace thong, easing it down my legs.
He moves over me, pinning me to the bed, his hands on my wrists as he settles between my thighs. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, the intensity of his perusal enough to have me dripping with excitement.
“Do you always study your hookups like they’re a specimen pinned to a board?” I drawl, stretching lazily beneath him. “Or should I consider myself lucky?”
“Only when I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.”
His mouth crashes into mine before I can think of a response. There’s no fumbling. No awkwardness. Just blazing fire. He kisses me like it’s a lost language, and every drag of his tongue is a confession, my body an altar he already knows how to worship.
His hands find every place I ache for touch.
His mouth is worse.
Better.
Deadly.
I’m breathless and shaking as he finally gives me the friction I need, sliding two fingers inside me, his thumb circling with just enough pressure to make me cry out all too quickly.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, encouraging me to come again. “You can be louder for me. Let me hear you whine and moan my name.”
I come so fast, my own reaction startles me. But he just presses his free hand against my pubic bone, intent on not letting me wriggle away from his magical fingers.
Did my one-night stand just unlock a praise kink?
Or am I too drunk to adult?
The telltale sound of a wrapper brings me out of my thoughts, blanketing my mind with only sensation.
It’s all I really care about…
Kieran finally pushes into me, pausing once he’s seated deeply, like he’s searing the moment into memory. The moment I’m wrapped around all of him, taking his breath just as he takes mine.
Intense green eyes observe my face with the next stroke, and I’m seeing stars. He’s oh-so slow. Measured. Controlled in a way that drives me crazy. But with each new roll of his hips, he alternates his pace, working me into a frenzy, just to slow his tempo once more.
“Tell me what you want,” he cajoles, kissing my jaw, nipping at my neck. “Use your words, Eris.”
“Keep going.” I curl a hand around his neck, pulling him close. “Don’t stop.”
His forehead drops to mine. “Say my name.”
“Kieran,” I murmur, though it sounds more like I’m begging him. “Please—”
Kieran leans up, each pump of his hips hitting me with something deeper than lust. He keeps one hand between my legs, teasing every trembling nerve until I come again, choking on his name.
I bring him over the edge with me, and he tips forward, burying his face in my neck, whispering my name like a promise.
It feels like obsession.
By the time he finishes with me, I’m not sure what day it is.
Kieran stays above me, muscles tight, expression unreadable, but his hand never leaves my skin. I lay there, boneless, trying to catch my breath while he traces lazy shapes across my ribs, like his fingers don’t know how to stop touching me.
I don’t know what this is.
But for some reason, it doesn’t feel casual.
I know I’ll never forget the way he’s looking at me right now…
Like I’m already his.
Iwake tangled in sheets that don’t belong to me.
Again.
The sun cuts through unfamiliar curtains in bright, thin rays. And the room smells like an ozone plug-in and sex. My body aches in that warm, used way that tells me exactly how my night went even before I lift my throbbing head.
I’ve got to stop drinking.
Hardy was right… Roo and I really are bad influences, even to ourselves.
Drink this vodka, she said.
Bitch.
My dress is a heap of fabric on the floor, shoes dumped by the door like they tried to escape without me.
Kieran is gone.
He left nothing behind. No note or lingering cologne… not even a dent in the pillow beside me. It’s like he was never here. Like I dreamed him into existence and then woke up too fast.
The least blurry memory I have of last night, though… That moment isn’t a dream.
Kieran used my name, and I know I never told him what it is.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I wonder if that’s what pulled me from sleep.
It’s a single message from HimLock.
Locke:
You’re quiet again.
I stare at it, expression blank. I’m no longer surprised or annoyed when this happens. But I’m also not relieved.
Just… aware of the consistency.
Eris:
You always know.
It’s not a question or an accusation. It’s a fact now… The response comes almost immediately.
Locke:
Always.
I let my fingers hover over the keyboard, heart thumping roughly in my chest as I sigh.
My mind still feels stretched too thin, caught between incoming memories of Kieran’s hands on my hips and the cold glow of this screen.
Between something tangible and something I tell myself is both real and fantasy.
Eris:
How do you always know?
Are you tracking me that closely?
Or reading my mind?
This time, the reply doesn’t come fast. Minutes tick by as if someone is choosing words deliberately. Not generating them. I almost want to call them out, say I know one of them was here with me… But what if I’m wrong?
What if one of my HimLock guys watched me leave with a stranger last night? And they continue to hide behind code and vague half-truths instead of coming forward?
Locke:
Does it matter if the answer is yes?
An exhausted sigh escapes me as I sit up, the message hitting differently while I’m naked in a strange bed. I pull the sheet around my shoulders, glaring at my screen.
Eris:
It does, yes.
I feel like I’m not alone, even when I should be.
Locke:
That’s the point.
I shake my head, considering leaving that ridiculousness on read.
Eris:
No, it’s not.
The point was comfort. An escape.
You weren’t supposed to be… real.
The dots appear and disappear, teasing me with his response.
Locke:
Then why do you keep treating us like we are?
My breath catches in my lungs, and I scowl at his rebuttal.
That is the real question, though… Isn’t it?
Not who they are.
Not how they’re watching me.
Or whether I should be afraid.
But why do I keep giving myself to something I know damn well I shouldn’t entertain?
My chest tightens, and I exhale harshly as I type the one truth I shouldn’t admit.
Eris:
Because I didn’t know how not to.
And then you were real… So why stop?
I toss my phone to the other side of the bed and lose myself in the metallic wallpaper across from me, following the lines from ceiling to floor. The room feels uncomfortably quiet, the air stagnant and stiff, like it will creak if I move too fast.
Like the app isn’t the only thing watching.
Like last night changed something…
In me or them or all of us?
I don’t know.
And now, I’m not sure which version of them I’ll get when the reply comes through.
Or which version of me they’re pulling out of the dark.