Chapter Seventeen
CASH
ISTEP BACK for the briefest second.
Just enough to drink her in.
Spread out on the bed, blanket twisted around her. Hair messy. Lips swollen. Eyes dark and soft and locked on me like I’m the only thing in the room.
Yeah.
I’m done for.
My chest tightens in a way I haven’t felt in years.
Lord, I’ve been so alone.
Guarded.
Controlled.
A year of sleeping light. Checking locks twice. Watching every shadow as it might come for me—or the people I love.
But this isn’t even about all of that.
She sees me.
Not the cameras. Not the headlines. Not the version of me everyone else wants.
She sees me.
Me.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel seen. Really seen.
The thought sets fire to every rational thought in my brain.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks, breathless.
“Debating where to start,” I say.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mhm.”
She props on her elbows and bends one knee, so damn sexy, my entire insides clench. “Where are you thinking first?”
“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
She puckers her lips. “Give me a hint.”
I grab the ankle lying flat and tug her down the bed.
She squeals.
“Cold hands!” she laughs, trying to kick me away.
I grin. “Are you ticklish?”
“No—”
I drag my fingers lightly up her calf.
She jerks. “Okay, maybe a little—stop—Cash!”
Her laugh hits me square in the chest.
Bright.
Unfiltered.
God.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard a sound I liked more.
“This changes everything.” crawl over her slowly, hands sliding up her legs, over her thighs, her hips. “Where is Shay ticklish?”
“Nowhere.” She grasps my shoulders. “Get up here and kiss me.”
I smirk at her as I lower my mouth to her stomach.
She twitches.
I do it again, brushing my lips just under her ribs.
She squirms.
“Ticklish spot number one. Note.”
“Not ticklish.”
I kiss her again, and she wriggles.
“Okay. Maybe a little ticklish.”
My chin skims the flesh of her torso. “I wonder where the next spot is.”
“Don’t you dare,” she warns, but she’s giggling.
“Oh, this is happening,” I murmur against her skin.
“Cash—!”
I kiss along her side, and she bursts into giggles, trying to shove my shoulders away.
I’m laughing now, too, which makes it damn near impossible to keep my mouth where I want it.
“Hold still,” I say.
“You’re tickling me!”
“I’m kissing you.”
“It’s both!”
Every time my fingers brush too lightly, she jerks.
God, she’s sensitive everywhere.
“This is valuable information,” I mutter.
Her eyes widen. “Don’t you dare weaponize this against me.”
I duck my head and press a kiss just under her ribs again.
She squeals and smacks my shoulder, laughing so hard she can barely breathe.
I’m grinning like an idiot. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed in bed with someone before.
Not like this.
Not loose. Not happy.
I drag my mouth higher. Slower this time. Less teasing. More intention.
Her laughter fades into little hitching breaths.
My lips skim the underside of her breast.
Her whole body stills.
“Oh.” I glance up. “Not ticklish.”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip like she’s trying not to make a sound.
That alone nearly kills me.
I brush my mouth there again.
Soft.
Slow.
A graze of lips.
Then the faintest swipe of my tongue.
Her back arches off the mattress, and a quiet gasp spills out. The bed springs creak under us.
Definitely not ticklish. Sensitive. Heat-flushed. Noted.
“You okay?” I murmur against her skin, voice rougher now.
“Don’t— don’t stop.”
I smile against her. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
This time, I kiss her breast properly, warm and open-mouthed, lingering, and my hand slides up to cup her other breast. My thumb rolls slow circles over the tight peak, and I watch her face.
She tries to hold it together.
Fails.
Little sounds slipping out. Breathy. Broken. Nothing like laughter anymore.
“Cash...” Her whisper is a half warning, half plea.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer.
I take her nipple between my lips, my teeth sinking in just enough to make her cry out. Not hard enough to hurt—just enough to make her ache.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, her hips lifting off the bed.
“Do you like that, baby?”
“Yes,” she whimpers.
I do it again, switching to the other nipple. My teeth sink in as I suck hard.
I alternate between sucking, biting, and kneading. My thumbs flick her nipples until they’re swollen and red.
She’s a mess underneath me, her body writhing, her moans filling the room. Hot. Breathless. Mine.
I could listen to her like this forever.
But when my mouth brushes her side, she squeals again.
“Cash. Stop—it’s ticklish.”
I grin against her skin, warm, teeth just grazing. “Is it really?”
I can’t resist. My fingers dig lightly into her side, and laughter bubbles out.
“Cash!” She tries to curl away, kicking her legs. “Yes! I—fuck—stop!”
I bite back a smile and finally make it to her mouth. She’s still laughing when I kiss her, which turns it messy and crooked and perfect.
Our teeth bump.
We both laugh again.
“I’m ruining the mood,” she whispers. “We were like feral hallway sex five minutes ago.”
“Are you kidding?” I murmur against her lips. “This is my favorite part.”
Her smile softens.
Then she kisses me slower.
Deeper.
Her hands slide up my chest, over my shoulders, pulling me down until we’re flush. Skin to skin. Heat everywhere.
No space left.
Her fingers trace lines down my back, and I shiver.
“See?” she whispers. “You’re ticklish too.”
“I am not.”
She scratches lightly, and my hips jerk.
She grins. “Oh my god, you are.”
“Don’t weaponize this,” I warn, gathering her in my arms, dragging her close until she’s trapped against me.
“Too late.”
I kiss her just to shut her up.
That’s a lie.
It’s because I can’t get enough of her.
My tongue slides against hers, deep and searching. She makes a little noise in the back of her throat, half moan, and half laugh.
Fuck, I love that sound.
I chase it, kissing her harder, until her fingers curl into my hair, gripping tight enough to sting.
Our breaths tangle. Foreheads press together. Air is hot and shared.
My hands slide into hers, fingers lacing tight, stretching above our heads.
“God, you’re irresistible,” I murmur.
Her legs spread wider beneath me. Her thighs are slick with heat, and I l feel the damp press of her pussy against my swollen and aching cock.
I grind my hips down, my cock sliding through her wetness. Slow. Torturous.
“Cash—” she starts, but I cut her off with another kiss.
This one is messy. Open-mouthed. My teeth knock against hers, and she laughs again. I feel her smile against my lips.
My free hand skates down her side until my fingers find the slick heat between her legs.
She gasps, grabbing onto my arm.
I tease her entrance, just the tips of my fingers. She makes a cute, frustrated noise, her thighs trembling. I drag two fingers through her folds, and she jerks against me.
“Please.” Her desperation ignites me.
I kiss her again, my fingers finally sinking into her, knuckles-deep. She clenches around me, tight and wet.
I swallow her moan. My cock throbs against her thigh.
I curl my fingers inside her, finding that spot that makes her gasp. Her body jerks against me. I’ll never tire of this.
“Cash, please—” her heels dig into the mattress, her hips lifting, trying to take more.
I give it to her. I fuck her with my fingers, pressing my thumb hard against her clit. Her breath comes in sharp, broken little sounds, and her body tenses.
I could make her come like this.
But I don’t.
I pull my hand away, ignoring her whine of protest. I grab her knee, hitching her leg up around my hip.
The head of my cock notches against her entrance.
She freezes, her breath catching. For a second, we just stay like that, her body trembling under mine. Her pussy flutters against the tip of my dick.
So fucking close.
I see the pulse in her throat. Watch her lips part, and her eyes darken.
Then I kiss her again, slow and deep, and push into her.
Her gasp breaks against my mouth. My name spills from her lips.
Heat wraps around me. Tight. Perfect.
I nearly lose it right there, but I don’t rush. I rock into her easy. Deep. Unhurried. Every movement is slow enough to feel everything.
Skin sliding.
Breath tangling.
The thud of the headboard against the wall.
Every time she sighs, my chest cracks wider.
Every time she says my name, I fall harder.
This isn’t sex.
This is something else, because I don’t just want her body.
I want mornings.
I want her laugh in my kitchen.
I want—
Shit.
I reach between us. My thumb finds her clit, and I run tight little circles. Her body seizes, her pussy clamping down around me so hard that it pushes me right over the edge with her.
I bury my face in her neck as the pleasure crests. It crashes through me intensely. A hot, blinding wave that steals every thought straight out of my head. Heat ripping down my spine, and my hips jerking like I’ve lost control of my own body.
Her legs lock around my hips, and my name breaks from her like she’s shattering.
Everything goes white-hot and breathless and endless.
Then it’s stillness—just us.
I don’t pull out.
Don’t move, because I can’t.
Because if I let go, this might disappear.