Chapter 28
SYDNEY
Awarm, callused hand cups my breast as soft lips tease the skin at my nape.
“Mmm.”
“Shh,” Cy whispers, plucking at my nipple.
A bolt of need flows straight to my core, and I arch my back, searching for more.
Fuck.
“What are you doing here? How did you even get in here?” I try to keep my voice down, but it’s hard when he continues teasing me with his fingers and lips.
I’m pretty sure I locked my bedroom door when I went to bed.
“This is my house. I know how to sneak around if I need to.” He nips at the pulse point in my throat, and I swallow the moan that tries to escape.
God, I’m glad he snuck in. I need this. Need him.
“If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up,” I murmur.
His laughter is more vibration than a sound behind me.
“You’ll want to wake up for this.” The words are barely audible as his hands drift up my sides, bringing the hem of my tank top with them.
When he’s divested me of my shirt, he drags his thumbs over my nipples, pulling a high-pitched whimper from me.
“Shh.”
“You’re going to get us in trouble. You shouldn’t be here.” I pant the words, relishing the havoc he’s wreaking on my body.
If not production, I’m sure his parents would have something to say about him sneaking into my room.
His hands still on my breasts, and I have to swallow my demand for more.
“You want me to leave, BB?”
I should, but when I open my mouth to say yes, the truth comes out instead.
“No. Don’t go,” I tell him, grinding my ass against his erection.
He hisses out a breath and tightens his hold on my breast. I shimmy my pajama pants down and kick free of them, then a cotton covered thigh lodges itself between them. The pressure is exquisite, but it’s not enough.
I need more.
“Touch me,” I demand, grasping one of his hands and dragging it down my stomach. I don’t stop until our fingers brush through my folds and find the sensitive bundle of nerves already swollen and waiting. The second we touch the nub, I spasm, my body eager for more.
Fuck. Yes. There.
His lips find my shoulder as he works his magic against my clit. Arms over my head, I thread my hands through his hair and press my breast more fully into his hand, then open my legs wider. He rewards me by circling my clit just the way I like, and fireworks explode behind my eyelids.
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you were right across the hall. I can’t get enough of you.” He slips a finger inside me knuckle deep while his thumb continues to orbit the hard bundle of nerves.
My breath breaks on a whimper.
“You have to be quiet,” he whispers, shifting so that his lips can capture mine.
As he devours me, he changes his rhythm. Seconds later, my orgasm laps at my toes, building slowly but with unerring certainty.
His tongue finds mine, his kiss growing more urgent as he tugs and pinches my nipple in time with the finger he works in and out of me.
I whimper again, but the sound doesn’t leave the fusion of our mouths.
It’s too much. His hands on my body, his lips against mine. Tethered together with the emotions that swamp me. At the same time, it’s not enough. I need more of him. All of him. All the time.
Only when my lungs are screaming for oxygen do I break the kiss and suck in several breaths.
He doesn’t slow, leaving me panting as I endure the pleasure that’s buffeting my body.
He slips another finger inside me, bending and shifting until he finds a spot—the spot.
The mythical spot that only my best toys have mapped out.
I sink my teeth into my lip to fight the scream building in my throat.
It’s not just the two of us in the middle of the woods this time.
It’s also more than just physical. This isn’t just fucking.
And that makes the pleasure more intense, hard to hold back.
“Are you going to come for me, Sydney?” he asks, running his fingertip over the spot again.
My body tightens, my muscles cramping as pleasure twists through me.
My name is gasoline on the fire he’s started.
It’s my name on his lips. Mine.
That only adds to the intimacy of the moment.
I nod quickly, not trusting myself to speak as white-hot pleasure blinds me to everything else.
He taps my clit with his thumb over and over, every connection a lightning strike that pushes me higher until I’m balanced on a razor’s edge. He claims my mouth in a violent kiss, nipping at my lip before absolutely devouring me.
I can’t hold back anymore. The world explodes into a thousand prisms of white light, of pleasure so incredible that my body begs for more even as I come down from the high. His kisses gentle, his hands running across my overheated skin.
When I can form a coherent thought again, I release my death grip on the sheets and shift until I face him, going straight for the waistband of his pajama pants.
Jerkily, I shove them down until his dick bobs free, and he takes over, freeing himself of the garment altogether while I wrap my hand around him, running my thumb over the tip.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. He’s holding himself back. But I so badly want him to lose control.
He stretches, reaching for the foil packet on the nightstand, and when he grasps it and returns, I can’t help but tease him.
“Pretty sure of yourself,” I tell him, squeezing him gently.
He groans. “Hopeful. That’s all it is. Hopeful preparation.”
“I’d lecture you, but I’m really glad you’re prepared.” I pluck the condom from his fingers and roll it over his erection.
He lifts me to straddle him, his lips on mine in a lazy kiss.
We stay like that, kissing as if we have all the time in the world. Slow kisses, fast kisses. Hard kisses become more languid the longer the night goes on. He clutches my ass, grinding me against him, the move causing my nipples to drag against his chest.
Every moment is woven with emotions I don’t want to have but can’t imagine losing. I want more. I need more.
Shifting, I move my lower body until he’s notched at my entrance. He brackets my hips, guiding me inch by slow inch down his hard dick until my pelvis bumps his.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” I moan into his ear, my tongue rimming the shell.
It’s not a frenzy like the night in the cabin, an overwhelm of pleasure building to a flashpoint we raced for together.
It’s more. So much more. The unhurried pace, the rightness in the way he retreats.
I push up until only his tip is sheathed inside me, holding for a heartbeat, then glide back down, letting the emotions buffet me along with the pleasure.
Our hands come together as if connected by magnets.
He weaves his fingers through mine and we repeat the gentle retreat, the slow slide together.
Words crowd my tongue, begging to be freed.
Ones I’m not sure I can say. Not sure I should say.
“Cyrus.” His full name leaves my lips without permission.
His eyes meet mine and he nods, understanding.
Seeing me. Like he always has.
The next time our hips connect, he pulls me closer and pulls a nipple into his mouth.
My breath catches, intense pleasure already knocking on the door. Again.
Sex has never been this way for me before.
It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. And I’m powerless to stop the need and hope from fizzing through my blood and lighting up my entire body.
He releases my breast and his eyes find mine in the darkness.
Every single emotion rolling over me is reflected in his dark irises.
The fire of pleasure. The surprise and wonder at how good this is.
The rest of the world fades until it’s him and me and the undemanding way our bodies move inexorably to the finish.
He rolls his hips, taking me deep, and the thrill that works through me makes my eyes drift shut.
“Sydney,” he murmurs, his movements slowing.
When I look at him, he pumps his pelvis again, then again. My orgasm levels up quickly and my eyes start to close again.
“No. Eyes on me.” His words are a delicious growl.
We keep moving, gazes locked as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips against mine.
His lips find mine, and I moan against them.
His tongue plunders my mouth in mimicry of what his hips are doing.
Our breaths mingle, the little sounds of pleasure trapped between us.
When he increases speed again, fireworks spark in my vision.
All the while he’s there at the center. Mastering my body and my heart in the same moment.
Another snap and twist of his hips, another drag of his tongue along mine, and the universe shatters around me.
My moan is lost between us, my body overwhelmed in wave after wave of pleasure.
One orgasm blends into a second, and as it nears its peak, he loses his rhythm, pistoning his hips, then freezing, letting out a small groan, his orgasm setting off the next for me.
When awareness creeps back in again, I’m lying on his chest, his heartbeat in my ear and his hands running along my back. A part of me wants to move, to put distance between us so that I can fucking process what just happened.
Because what that was?
It wasn’t just sex.
But a bigger part of me—the part that wants to keep her head buried in the sand a little longer—convinces me to stay where I am.
Just for tonight.
I’ll tackle my revelation tomorrow.
Walking away from Cy is no longer possible.
I drift off, hoping maybe there is a future for us after all.
Hours later, the orange glow of the sunrise wakes me. I reach for Cy, but all I find are cool sheets.
“He’s gone,” I murmur against my pillow.
If I weren’t naked beneath the covers, I’d question whether he was ever here.
No. I’d know, because last night, my DNA was deconstructed and reconstructed, changing me irrevocably.
“What the fuck am I going to do?” I groan and roll over, staring at the ceiling.
Feelings are the last things I should be gaining from this job. I never would have anticipated being where I am now. Nothing about my past with Cy indicated this was a possibility.
But here I am.
And though he acts like he’s in the same boat, how can I know for sure?
This fucking sucks.
I need some advice. Which means I need to come clean to Leigh and Jessie about our night in the cabin. And if I’m coming clean, I might as well start at the beginning and tell them about how I met Cy when I was sixteen.
“They’re going to love that,” I whisper, dread rolling through me.
Because they are.
“Let’s get this over with.”
Based on the soft light filtering in, it’s probably too early to send a text.
But if I don’t send it now, I’ll talk myself out of it later.
Tossing the covers aside, I haul myself out of bed.
I dig my phone out of its hiding spot in my suitcase.
It isn’t until I’m on my way back to the bed that an envelope under my door catches my attention.
“A date card?” I ask, picking it up.
We typically receive date cards in a more public fashion.
Then again, we’ve moved to a different stage, a different location, so maybe they’re more private now.
My name is scrawled on the front, the sight making me giddy. Pulse picking up, I open it, wondering what Cy has in store.
Only the contents of the envelope aren’t from Cy.
It isn’t a date card.
It’s a small stack of pictures.
Still frames of Cy and me in the cabin. From a video, based on the blurry quality. Multiple images. Close enough that our faces are clearly visible, despite the blurring. And not just our faces either.
Holy shit. There were cameras in the cabin.
You didn’t listen to my warnings, Sydney.
You got lucky when I tried to run you down with the four-wheeler.
But your luck has run out. I thought you would have gotten the picture when I cut up your dress.
But since you haven’t, I’ve got my own pictures to share.
Wouldn’t the tabloids love to see these?
If you don’t officially withdraw from the show and leave within the next forty-eight hours, they will.
Cyrus is MINE. And if you don’t listen, you’ll be sorry.
It’s not signed, but the red marker is a dead giveaway.
Scarlett.
Anger surges through my body, my hands shaking with the urge to crumple the papers. Anger and something else. Fear. I’ve received her message loud and clear. But it’s not the tabloids I’m worried about.
Cy is enough of a playboy that his reputation won’t suffer. And, honestly, I don’t give a shit what people think of me. With the exception of my dad. My friends. Cole.
And Sawyer.
What will Sawyer say if he sees these?