Chapter 5 #2
"Maybe," she breathed.
"Tell me you want this," I commanded. "Say it."
She hesitated, biting her lip. The defiance was still there, flickering.
I moved my hand higher, my thumb brushing the seam of her leggings. I felt her muscles jump.
"Say it, Jess."
"I want it," she whispered.
"Louder."
"I want it, Nick."
"Good girl."
The praise hit her like a physical blow. Her eyes rolled back slightly, her hips arching off the mat.
Got you.
I knew it. I knew she craved the structure. I knew that beneath the chaos and the fighting, she wanted someone to take the wheel.
I didn't wait. I slipped my hand between her legs.
She was wearing leggings, thick athletic fabric, but she was soaked. I could feel the heat radiating through the material. I cupped her, applying steady, firm pressure right at the center.
She cried out, her back arching, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"Please," she whimpered.
"Please what?" I asked, keeping my hand still, denying her the friction she wanted. "Use your words."
"Touch me," she begged. "Please, Nick. Touch me."
I didn't go inside her pants. Not yet. We hadn't earned that. Instead, I used the friction of the fabric. I began to move my hand, a slow, rhythmic grind.
I watched her face. I needed to see it. I needed to see the moment she fell apart.
"Look at me," I ordered.
She forced her eyes open. They were glassy, unfocused.
"That's it," I murmured, increasing the pace. "Take it. For me."
She was unraveling. Her breathing was ragged, disjointed. She was mumbling things I couldn't catch—my name, curses, prayers.
"You're so responsive," I taunted softly, leaning down to lick the pulse point at her throat. "So wet for me. I can feel it."
"Nick... Nick, I'm close," she gasped, her hips bucking against my hand, trying to chase the pressure.
"Let go," I said. "I've got you. You're safe. Let go."
And she did.
It shattered her. She cried out, a loud, uninhibited scream that echoed off the mirrors. Her body went rigid, shaking violently as the orgasm ripped through her. I held her through it, keeping the pressure steady, riding out the storm with her until the last tremors faded.
She collapsed back onto the mat, panting, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat.
I stayed over her, supporting my weight on my forearms. I was rock hard, achingly so, my own release denied. But the satisfaction of watching her come apart... it was a different kind of high. It was power. It was possession.
I brushed a stray hair off her forehead. My hand was shaking.
Silence stretched out in the room, heavy and thick. The only sound was the hum of the HVAC system and our ragged breathing.
Then, the reality of what we had just done crashed into the room.
Jess blinked, her eyes focusing on my face. The haze of lust began to clear, replaced by wide-eyed panic.
"Oh my god," she whispered.
She scrambled backward, scuttling out from under me like a crab. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, her back hitting the mirror wall.
"We just..." She looked at me, then at the door. "We just broke every rule."
I sat up slowly, resting my arms on my knees. I didn't cover myself. I let her see the effect she had on me.
"We established new rules," I said, my voice rough.
"No, Nick. This is..." She ran a hand through her messy hair. "This changes everything. We're supposed to be fake dating. We're supposed to be allies. If we start sleeping together..."
"We didn't sleep together," I pointed out. "I helped you relax. Just like you helped me with my hip."
"That is not the same thing!" she hissed, her face turning pink again. "You... you made me..."
"Yes," I said. "And you liked it."
She opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She couldn't deny it.
"This is dangerous," she said finally, her voice small. "I can't... I can't be another one of your puck bunnies, Nick. I can't be a notch on the bedpost. I have too much to lose."
I looked at her. Really looked at her. Messy hair, swollen lips, terrified eyes.
Something shifted in my chest. A crack in the foundation.
I didn't want her to be a notch. I didn't want her to be temporary.
"You aren't a bunny, Jessica," I said quietly. "You're the only person in this entire zip code who has ever made me lose control."
She stared at me, searching my face for the lie. She wouldn't find one.
I stood up, offering her a hand.
"Up," I said.
She hesitated, then took my hand. I pulled her to her feet. She was unsteady, her legs wobbling.
I didn't pull her into a hug. I didn't kiss her again. I stepped back, re-establishing the boundary, though we both knew it was made of glass now.
"Go to bed," I said. "Lock your door."
"Why?"
"Because," I said, turning to walk toward the shower to take care of the problem she had created, "if you don't lock it, I'm coming in. And next time, I won't stop at the waistband."
She swallowed hard, nodding once. Then she turned and fled the gym.
I watched her go.
I listened to her footsteps fade down the hall. I heard the door to the guest suite close. Then, the distinct click of the lock turning.
I let out a breath I had been holding for twenty minutes.
I walked to the mirror, looking at my reflection. My eyes were wild. My skin was flushed. I looked like a man who had just survived a car crash.
"Glacial control," I mocked my own reflection. "Pathetic."
But as I turned on the shower, blasting it to freezing cold, I couldn't stop the smirk from forming on my lips.
The game had changed. And for the first time in my life, I didn't know the outcome.
And I couldn't wait to play the next period.