Chapter 1 #3
She laughed, low and unsteady, the sound vibrating into his shoulder as she pressed nearer. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Depends how good you are at keeping promises.” He stopped walking entirely, right there beneath the string lights, and turned her fully into him, one hand rising to cradle her jaw, his thumb tracing slow along her bottom lip before he kissed her, deep and unhurried, swallowing the small broken sound she made against his mouth.
She pulled back just far enough to breathe, her hands fisted in his shirt, her eyes dark and half-lidded under the lights. “We are never making it to my room at this rate.”
“We’re making it.” He pressed his forehead to hers, both of them breathing harder than two blocks could account for. “I’m just not built to wait the whole way to touch you.”
By the time they hit the hotel entrance her hands were shaking, not with nerves anymore but with something far harder to mistake, and she fumbled the key card twice while he stood close enough behind her that she could feel the heat of his chest at her spine, his mouth finding the curve of her neck right as the lock finally gave.
She turned to face him in the doorway instead of stepping through first, her hand fisting slow in his shirt, dragging him down with a certainty that had nothing nervous left in it. “Last chance to back out,” she breathed against his mouth.
“I told you already.” One hand slid into her hair, the other splayed flat and possessive at the small of her back, hauling her flush against the hard line of him until there wasn’t a sliver of space left to question. “I don’t waste time.”
The sound she made was half laugh, half gasp, her fingers wringing tighter into his shirt as she pulled him backward over the threshold, his hands already hunting the zipper at her spine, the door kicked shut behind them with neither of them willing to break the kiss to do it, every careful rule from the rooftop burning to ash the second skin finally found skin.
He took her mouth again, urgent now, hands in her hair, at her waist, everywhere at once. She felt the door at her back, then the wall of his chest, hot and unyielding, pinning her where she stood. No room to think. Only her own breathing, wild and ragged, and the press of him, solid as a verdict.
The zipper gave under his hand, rough, careless, and her dress slid from her shoulders to pool at her feet. She hardly noticed. His hands had already found her hips, dragging her closer until there was nothing between them but thin silk and heat.
He kissed her like he wanted it to leave a mark, and God help her, she wanted that too. To feel it tomorrow. To have proof it had been real.
Her fingers stumbled over his buttons, clumsy, her head emptied of everything useful.
He let her struggle, watching her with dark, patient hunger, and when she finally got him open he shrugged the shirt off, muscle shifting under smooth skin.
Her palms found his chest, traced the ridge of his collarbone, the old scar at his shoulder. He was beautiful in a way that ached.
He spun her, set her back to the door, caged her in with his arms. She felt small, breakable, and loved every second of it.
His mouth dropped to her throat, teeth grazing the spot just under her jaw.
She gasped at the unexpected jolt, and he did it again, harder, deliberate, like he meant to leave something behind.
His hands slid up to cover her, thumbs dragging over her until she arched into his palms. He set his mouth to her through the thin silk, wet heat and rough stubble, and her knees nearly went. He caught her with a hand at her waist, steadying her, then sank to his knees.
He looked up, eyes gone glassy, lips parted.
Waiting. She gave him the barest nod, hardly more than a breath, and he drew her panties down slow, knuckles trailing her thighs until the silk gathered at her ankles.
Then his mouth was on her, relentless, his tongue working tight, ruinous circles, and she bit down on her lip but the sound tore free anyway, needy and raw.
He didn’t stop. Not when she grabbed a fistful of his hair, not when she tried to twist away from how much it was.
He held her right there, one hand locked around her thigh, the other anchored at her hip, and didn’t let up until she came apart, shaking, knees buckling.
He stayed with her through it, gentler now, coaxing her down until she sagged boneless against the door.
He rose, mouth slick, eyes wild, and kissed her, let her taste herself on his tongue. She kissed him back greedy, already reaching for more.
“Bed,” she managed against his mouth. “Now.”
“There she is.” He almost smiled. “Bossy. I like it.”
He walked her backward without letting their mouths fully part until the backs of her knees met the edge of the bed. She fell, and pulled him down with her. He pinned her wrists above her head and held her there, gaze locked to hers as he settled his hips between her thighs.
She wanted him. The weight of him, the certainty in his grip, the ache winding tight and low in her belly.
He pushed into her slow, just enough to make her feel every inch of the stretch, the burn, the rightness of it.
She arched up greedy and he gave her the rest, hard enough to wrench a gasp out of her that he caught in his mouth, biting down on her lip when she tried to pull back.
She clawed at his shoulders, nails carving lines down his back, and he drove deeper, relentless, gathering both her wrists in one hand. She twisted, testing it, and he only held her tighter, took her harder, made her feel the whole length of him. She loved it. God, she loved it.
He broke the kiss, breathing ragged, forehead to hers. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not.” She barely knew her own voice. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He didn’t. He drove into her again and again, the rhythm brutal and perfect, the bed shuddering, the headboard knocking the wall. She couldn’t hear anything past her own pulse and the slap of skin and the low, filthy words he gritted against her ear.
“You feel so good. So damn good. Could do this all night, just like this.”
She shattered, a cry breaking loose before she could cage it, her body clamping down around him, nails biting bloody crescents into his skin.
He cursed, his rhythm stuttering, and then he was gone too, hips jerking, mouth crushed to her shoulder, a low, wrecked sound breaking against her skin where her name should have gone, the one thing she hadn’t given him.
He didn’t release her wrists right away. He held her there, pinned and trembling, while he caught his breath, and only when he finally let go did she melt into the mattress, wrung out and ruined, every nerve lit raw.
He rolled to his side and took her with him, keeping her flush to his chest, one hand tracing lazy circles up her spine, slow and soothing. She burrowed in, chasing his heat, dizzy and a little drunk on him.
“You okay?” he asked, voice rough.
She managed a laugh, shredded and breathless. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“Good.” He sounded pleased, nearly smug. “That’s the goal.”