Chapter 27 #2
Nick pushed me back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss, and followed me down.
The cool sheets met my overheated skin as he hovered above me, drinking me in like he needed to memorize everything—my flushed cheeks, my parted lips, the rise and fall of my chest as I tried to keep up with the intensity radiating from him.
Then he was on me again, kissing me like it was the only way he knew how to speak. My hands slid into his hair, tugging him closer, grounding myself in the weight of him—his body, his heat, the emotion simmering just beneath the surface.
His hands roamed over me—strong, certain—mapping every inch of skin like I was something holy and dangerous all at once. When they reached my face, he cupped it with aching tenderness, then deepened the kiss until I forgot how to breathe.
When his mouth trailed down my neck, I gasped, electricity zipping through me. Every touch left me more exposed, more undone. He kissed with purpose—possessive, reverent, like he had something to prove.
“God,” he murmured against my skin before nipping at my earlobe, voice thick with need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
A rush of heat rolled through me at his words, curling low in my belly. I barely managed a breathless laugh as my fingers scraped down his back. “Neither do you.”
And then there was nothing but heat and skin and Nick—every touch, every sound, every kiss unraveling the last of the walls between us.
His gaze darkened at the challenge. He leaned back just enough for our eyes to lock again, tension crackling between us like a live wire. In that silence, something passed between us—something undeniable. Neither of us was backing down tonight.
“Then let’s see just how much we can burn together,” he said, his voice low and rough, a promise and a dare wrapped in one.
The words wrapped around me, thick as smoke, setting fire to whatever doubt still lingered. And then he was on me again—kissing me with a hunger that didn’t ask for permission, that promised nothing would be left untouched by the time dawn crept in.
In that moment—this moment of reckless abandon—I knew there was no turning back. We’d crossed a line, shattered the boundaries we’d tiptoed around for far too long.
And maybe that was exactly what we both needed.
Not safety. Not control.
Just this.
The chance to lose ourselves completely in each other, without hesitation, without guilt. To stop looking over our shoulders. To let go of the weight we carried and finally give in—to the fire, to the chaos, to the us we were too scared to name out loud.
Whatever happened next… we wouldn’t face it alone.
Not anymore.
His hands were everywhere—rough and sure, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
Each touch claimed a piece of me, each kiss marking territory that had long been invaded by ghosts I wanted to forget.
But Nick? He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t sweet.
He was fierce and primal, his need a roaring inferno that consumed everything in its path.
And I needed it. God, I needed it.
His mouth crashed against mine, desperate and demanding, swallowing the gasp that escaped my lips as his hands roamed down my sides, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. His fingers dug into my skin like he was anchoring himself to me—like letting go was never an option.
“Mine,” he growled against my lips, his voice thick with possession. “You’re mine, Kennedy.”
The words hit something deep inside me, something raw and aching that had been waiting to be claimed. My nails scraped down his back, leaving marks of my own, grounding myself in the reality of him—of us.
“Yes,” I breathed against his mouth, the admission trembling on my tongue. “I’m yours.”
His response was a low, guttural sound that sent shivers racing down my spine. He kissed me harder, rougher, like he needed to imprint himself on every inch of me. And maybe he did—maybe we both did.
He moved with purpose, shifting us until he hovered above me, his eyes dark and intense as they bore into mine. The weight of him pressed me into the mattress, a solid reminder that this was real—that we were real.
“You’re not Gary’s,” he whispered fiercely, his breath hot against my skin as he trailed kisses down my neck. “You’re not theirs.”
His words punctuated each kiss, each nip of his teeth against sensitive flesh. I arched beneath him, needing more—needing everything.
“You belong to me now,” he continued, voice low and rough as his hands slid lower, fingers teasing at the edge of my panties before tugging them off with a quick, decisive motion.
“Yes,” I gasped again, the word escaping on a breathless moan as he moved lower still, his mouth following the path his hands had blazed moments before.
His touch was everywhere—claiming, branding. Each kiss left a mark; each bite a reminder that I was his in every way that mattered.
When he finally pressed into me, it was with a fierceness that took my breath away—a raw intensity that made everything else fade into the background. The headlines didn’t matter. The whispers didn’t matter. Gary didn’t matter.
Only this mattered. Only him.
His movements were primal and urgent; each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through me as I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me grounded—which he was.
He captured my mouth in another searing kiss; our moans mingling in the heated air around us; our bodies moving together with a desperate urgency that felt like salvation.
As we reached the edge together; our names fell from our lips like prayers; echoing through the room; binding us even tighter than before.
And in that moment—amidst the fierce, primal need—we weren’t just lost in each other; we were found.