Chapter 15 #2
But as we unlock the door and step into the dim hotel room, I can feel it—the pull.
The curtains are open, the ocean beyond the glass black and endless. I drop my purse on the chair and turn to say something casual, something safe, but Alaric’s in the doorway, watching me like he’s trying to memorize the moment.
I shouldn’t. I know that. But suddenly I can’t find any other option.
My fingers catch his shirt and tug him closer.
He comes without hesitation, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his mouth finding mine.
The kiss is soft for half a heartbeat, and then deepens, years of space collapsing between us.
It’s desperate and careful all at once, leaving no room for thought.
His breath is warm against my cheek. My heart pounds, every nerve lit. I taste salt and something sweet, maybe from the drink, maybe from him. His hands skim down my sides, and I press closer before I remember the promise.
“Alaric,” I whisper, pulling back enough to breathe. “We said—”
“I know.” His forehead rests against mine. “I know.”
He sits on the bed only when I press against his chest, and even then, he keeps his hands to himself, like he’s waiting for permission. His restraint should make this easier. But it just makes me ache.
I step between his knees, and his palms finally rise to skim along my thighs, slow enough to test whether I’ll pull away. I don’t. If anything, I lean into the touch, my breath catching in a way I hope he doesn’t notice.
“Liz…” he murmurs, voice low, almost rough.
“Don’t,” I whisper. “Not tonight.”
That’s all it takes. His hands tighten at my hips, guiding me closer, and when I slide onto his lap, the sound he lets out vibrates straight through me.
His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time, no hesitation left, and the tension that’s been building since this morning snaps cleanly between us.
His fingers trace up my spine, unhurried, deliberate, and my whole body shivers in response. I try to stay quiet, try not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how easily he unravels me, but it’s useless. He can surely feel every breath, every tremor.
He pulls back to look at me, eyes dark, focused, unbearably gentle. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Stopping is the last thing I want, the last thing I’ve wanted since the moment I saw him standing in that doorway, looking at me like the years hadn’t managed to burn this out of us.
“I’ll tell you,” I say.
His thumb brushes my lower lip, slow and reverent, and then his mouth is on my neck, tracing a line of heat that pulls a sound out of me I can’t swallow down. He breathes against my skin like he’s memorizing it, and my pulse stutters helplessly.
When his hands move to the hem of my dress, he pauses again, waiting.
I nod once, barely, and that’s enough.
He lifts the dress over my head and drops it to the floor beside us.
Leaning in, he puts his mouth over my hard nipple. I cry out in ecstasy.
My panties are wet, and he moves them aside, fingers sliding easily between my folds. He pushes inside me, pivoting in and out. My internal muscles tighten.
“Oh God,” I cry as I grip his shoulders.
I want more. I want to feel the way he used to light me on fire. I lift my hips, and he slips my panties down my legs. He draws a deep breath. “You smell so good. God, I’ve missed this.”
I paw at his shirt and lift it over his head.
I’m already working on his belt buckle and jeans.
He lifts me off and pushes his pants to the floor.
Then his hands are all over me, skimming my stomach and heating a trail to my breasts as he captures my nipple and suckles.
I whimper and moan, rubbing against his hand, and my bliss returns once more.
I spread my legs, and his thumb finds the hard nub. He circles, coming closer and closer, but not actually touching it—until I cry out. “Please…”
“Are you sure?” he rasps.
“Yes.” I groan, moving his fingers out of the way so I can stroke it myself as three of his fingers plunge into my wetness.
I arch as he bites my nipple, my body lifting off the bed, balanced only by my head and heels as pleasure rushes through me.My wetness covers his fingers, and he doesn’t stop until I’m boneless. Then he watches as I regain my breath.
I reach for him. “It’s your turn,” I whisper. “I want you inside me.”
He scrambles to his pants and pulls a condom from his wallet. I lick my lips as he rolls it on. “You can change your mind,” he says.
“No way.” I pull in a deep breath as he lines himself up.
When he pushes in, the stretch burns for a second before my body gives way, pulling him deeper.
He rocks in and out of me as I adjust to his size, and my nails sink into his back.
He’s the perfect lover, an aberration. I hold on, drawing him deeper as I arch my hips up to meet his thrusts.
“So fucking tight,” he groans.
He’s inside of me, pushing deep, hard and fast, pounding mindlessly. It’s what we want, what our bodies desire. I explode again, and this time, it’s more intense because of the frantic way he’s moving inside me. He follows, and our climax together is complete.
I gasp, my body once again limp and exhausted. He rolls to the side, taking the bulk of his weight off of me, but our legs and lower bodies remain intimately locked.
“We do that well,” I breathe.
“I agree.”
Laughter breaks through the tension, and the comforter rustles as I settle against him. He wraps an arm around my waist, his palm warm against my stomach. My head fits beneath his chin the way it used to.
Outside, waves crash relentlessly against the shore. Inside, the only sound is our breathing, slowly syncing. I should move. I should say something. But exhaustion slips in, warm and heavy.
“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my hair.
I nod against his chest, eyes already closing.