Chapter 21 #2
The fatigue and icky feeling I woke up with is gone.
Maybe it’s the fact Gran reassured me she’d be okay, or that Sloane is here with me now.
I think about Gran telling me not to let fear stop me from giving Sloane my all, and suddenly, with glaring clarity, I know that no matter what Sloane does in the future, she’ll always be the one for me.
She could shatter my heart all over again, and I’d still wait for her to run back to me.
Because I know she would. I knew it in high school, and I believe it now. We were made for each other.
A rush of love pulses through my veins, and I can’t help but pull closer to her.
My hands grip her body, and my head turns so I can nuzzle into her neck.
I’ve missed her touch so badly. I don’t want to go slow anymore.
I want to do the opposite. I want to catch up to where we should be by now.
Living together, planning our future. Making love in our bed.
I can certainly make one of those things happen right now if Sloane wants it, and the subtle shifting of her hips makes me believe she does.
Without uttering a word, I let my hand roam over her body until it reaches her breast. Her nipple is already hard, and I have to grit my teeth not to rip off her sleepwear with them.
Sloane’s eyes flicker, a hot-blooded mix of surprise and want, and…
relief? Like she hoped I’d make the first move.
Without even thinking about it, I slide my palm up under her shirt.
Her skin’s warm and sleep-silk soft, and when I stroke my thumb over the peak of her nipple, she makes a sound I’ve never heard from her before.
It’s a desperate, almost wounded gasp, and it burrows into my brain.
That sound tells me how much she’s missed me… missed this.
“You’re killing me,” she gasps. It sounds like both a warning and a wish.
I laugh a little because I’m nervous, but I can’t stop myself, so I don’t.
Instead, I push the hem of the shirt up, and she helps, arms raised, letting it pool onto the sheets.
I don’t even bother looking. I’ve memorised every inch of her body since high school, and even if it’s a little changed since then, it’s still her, and still perfect.
Sloane’s arms are strong from all the athletics she’s done for years, strong enough to pin me if she wanted to, but she doesn’t.
She lets me take the lead, lets me stare, lets me run my hands over her ribs and down.
When I duck my head to taste her skin, she shudders so hard the bed moves enough to knock the bedside tables, making the coffee mugs almost spill over.
For a second, I think we’ll have to stop to clean up a mess, but we don’t, and now my mouth is full of Sloane’s skin, and her hands are tangled in my hair.
Her body is arching up, pressing herself into my mouth.
She moans out loud, my name loudest of all, and it’s like every cell in my body is on fire.
I could stay here for hours, but her hands get greedy, and she tugs me up by my hair.
The kiss she gives me is rough, almost clumsy, and laced with whatever she needs to tell me but can’t say yet, not with words.
It’s so raw and hungry I almost cry all over again, but she catches my chin and kisses away anything left of sadness.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her breath wild, but her eyes on mine.
I lick my lips and nod. “I need you, Sloane. Please.”
She growls, honest to god growls, and flips us so I’m on my back, hair everywhere, shirt half-off, body burning with the need to be close.
Sloane’s hands roam down my body, memorising me like she’s been dreaming of this, and I think she has.
She stops at my hips and hooks her fingers in the waistband of my sleep shorts.
“Can I?” she whispers.
“You better,” I say, and she laughs, so pure and beautiful it makes me dizzy.
And then she pulls, slow enough to drive me insane, slow enough for me to feel every brush of her knuckles, every inch of space disappearing between us. I’m bare and coiled like a spring with anticipation.
Sloane just looks at me for a second, her pupils are huge, and her cheeks are glowing with morning light. Then she’s kissing down my belly, over the tattoo on my ribs she once traced a thousand times. Lower and lower until her mouth finally finds me.
The world ends. Or starts over, I can’t tell.
She has always known exactly how to touch, how to tease, how to make it so I forget who or where I am.
I let go. All of me. I cry out, and she’s so, so proud.
Her smugness makes me want her even more.
I fist the sheets, clamping a hand over my mouth because it’s a habit I’ve formed since sharing an apartment with other people, but she grabs my wrist and tugs it away, like she wants to hear all of it, every embarrassing, desperate sound I make.
“Don’t hide from me,” she says between kisses, and I don’t.
After I’m limp and shaking, Sloane crawls up beside me and pulls me tight against her chest. I can hear the steady thump of her heart in my ear. We stay like that for a while, breathing in sync, until my brain stitches itself back together.
She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Was that too fast? Are you okay?” Her voice is hoarse.
I smile and roll on top of her, pinning her with my hips. She yelps, shocked, and I kiss her mouth with the taste of me still on her tongue.
“My turn,” I say, and her grin is so wild it’s almost feral.