Chapter 10
Peter
Her apartment was small, a studio where the bed bled into the living space. It smelled like vanilla and peppermint and the faint, intoxicating scent of arousal. My arousal.
She was sitting on the edge of the mattress, the red dress pooled around her feet like spilled wine.
Her shoulders were bare, her skin luminous in the dim light filtering through the window.
My hands—the hands that had just held off a charging horde for three periods, the hands that had just been praised by her for being "territorial"—were still trembling.
No going back. The words echoed in my head, a dangerous, exhilarating promise.
I stood in front of her, the remnants of my suit jacket discarded on the floor. My shirt was still on, but unbuttoned, the fabric clinging to my sweat-damp skin. The ice pack lay forgotten on the rug. My knee throbbed, a dull counterpoint to the frantic, pounding drumbeat in my chest.
She looked up at me, her hazel eyes wide and luminous. There was no fear there anymore. Only a raw, open invitation.
"You’re not stopping?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I shook my head, unable to trust my voice. I reached out, my fingers brushing the bare skin of her shoulder. Her skin was like silk. Warm. Soft. Everything my life was not.
"No," I managed to rasp. "I’m not stopping."
My hands slid down her arms, tracing the curves of her biceps, the delicate bones of her wrists. Her skin was flushed, a stark contrast to my own colder, rougher exterior. I found her hands, still trembling slightly, and laced my fingers through hers.
"You feel it too, don’t you?" I whispered, pulling her closer. "This… pull. Like gravity."
"It’s more like a supernova," she breathed, her gaze fixed on my mouth. "Everything is exploding."
I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled her off the bed, letting her stand. She was still shorter than me, but when she looked up at me like that, she felt taller. More powerful.
I kissed her.
It wasn't like the kiss in the car. It wasn't desperate or frantic. It was slow. Deliberate. A tasting. An exploration. I mapped the curve of her lips with mine, learning the shape, the texture. I felt her sigh into the kiss, a soft sound of surrender that sent a jolt through my system.
Her hands moved from mine to my chest, then up to my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair at the nape of my skull. She pulled me closer, her body pressing against mine. I could feel the rapid beat of her heart against my own.
"Peter," she whispered against my mouth. "I want you to..."
"Don’t say it," I interrupted, kissing her again. "Let me show you."
My hands moved to the zipper of her dress. It was a delicate, almost invisible thing. My fingers fumbled slightly, clumsy and impatient. I felt the cool metal slide down her back, the fabric parting inch by agonizing inch.
Her breath hitched. "Peter..."
"Shh," I murmured against her skin. "Just feel."
The red silk slid down her shoulders, pooling around her waist. I saw the delicate curve of her collarbones, the pale swell of her breasts beneath the lace of her bra. It was exquisite. Untouched. Perfect.
"You're so beautiful," I whispered, the words feeling inadequate, clumsy.
Her eyes fluttered open. "It’s just a dress," she said, her voice breathy.
"No," I corrected, my thumb tracing the delicate lace at the edge of her bra. "It’s a boundary. And you're crossing it."
She reached up, her hand cupping my jaw. Her touch was gentle, reverent. "You’re crossing it too."
I lowered my head, kissing the pulse point on her neck. Her skin was flushed, hot beneath my lips. I felt her gasp, her fingers tightening in my hair.
"Look at me, Bee," I murmured.
She turned her head, her eyes meeting mine. They were dark with desire, but also filled with a startling vulnerability.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"Me too," I admitted. The confession felt like shedding a layer of armor. "This is... uncharted territory."
"Then let’s chart it together," she said, her voice gaining a surprising strength.
My hands moved to the clasp of her bra. It was a simple hook-and-eye. My fingers fumbled for a second, then clicked it open. The front of the bra loosened, and her breasts, heavy and perfect, spilled out.
She gasped, her hands flying up to cover herself. "Peter, no—"
"Shh," I soothed, gently pulling her hands away. "Look at me."
She looked up, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.
"You are magnificent," I whispered, my gaze tracing the curve of her breasts, the dark peaks that were already hardening. "Don’t hide."
I lowered my head, my lips finding the sensitive skin of her breast. Her breath caught in a ragged gasp. I circled the nipple with my tongue, feeling it harden further. Then, I took her into my mouth.
She cried out, her fingers digging into my shoulders. Her body arched against me.
"Peter," she gasped. "Oh god, Peter."
I moved from one breast to the other, worshiping her with my mouth, feeling her tremble in my arms. Her hands were tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, harder.
"You wanted to know what the data felt like," I murmured against her skin. "This is the data, Bee. This is the feeling."
She moaned, her hips tilting instinctively against mine.
I set her back on the bed, my hands moving lower. I unbuttoned her shorts, the sound loud in the quiet room. Her skin was flushed everywhere. She was radiating heat.
I slipped the shorts down her legs, along with the lace bra. She was naked now, except for her panties. She looked impossibly beautiful. Soft. Yielding.
"Your turn," she whispered, her hands shaking as she reached for my shirt.
I stood still, letting her. Let her explore. Let her be the one in control for a change.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons. She tugged the shirt open, then pulled it off my shoulders. Her hands traced my chest, my ribs. She paused over the compass tattoo.
"What’s this?" she asked, her voice soft.
"North," I said. "My direction."
"Where is North taking us?" she whispered, her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo.
"Somewhere dangerous," I admitted.
She looked up at me, her eyes dark. "I don't care."
She reached for my belt buckle. My breath hitched. This was it. The point of no return.
"You’re sure?" I asked, my voice rough. "There's no going back from this."
"I don’t want to go back," she said, her gaze unwavering. "I want this. I want you. All of you."
My hands moved to the waistband of her panties. They were silk. Soft. I slipped my fingers under the elastic, easing them down her hips.
She helped me, lifting her hips off the bed. Her skin was incredibly sensitive. My touch sent shivers through her.
I stripped away the last barrier.
She was naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.
And breathtakingly beautiful.
"Look at me, Bee," I commanded, my voice thick.
She looked up, her eyes locking with mine.
"You are so," I started, struggling for words. "You are so much more than data."
I lowered myself onto the bed, carefully avoiding my injured leg. I settled between her thighs, my knee pressing against the mattress.
She reached up, her hands framing my face. "And you," she whispered, her thumbs stroking my cheekbones, "are not just a machine."
I leaned down, kissing her deeply. This kiss was different. It was possessive. Claiming. I felt her arch against me, her nails digging into my back.
"Tell me," I growled against her mouth. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she gasped. "I want all of you. Now."
I moved. Slowly at first. She was so tight. So new. So unbelievably perfect.
She cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Peter! Yes!"
I paused, supporting my weight on my arms. "Are you okay?"
"Yes!" she sobbed. "God, yes! Keep going!"
Her frantic encouragement fueled me. I moved again, finding a rhythm. Her body adjusted to mine, molding around me.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. Her hands clenched and unclenched on my back.
"Harder," she gasped. "Please, Peter. Harder."
I gave her what she wanted. I drove into her, filling her completely. She felt so incredibly tight, so perfect. She was everything I had ever dreamed of in a woman, and more.
Her body was a testament to innocence, but her eyes, locked on mine, were pure fire.
"Look at me," I commanded, my voice strained.
She did. Her hazel eyes, dark with passion, met mine.
"You're mine tonight, Bee," I growled, my hips moving in a steady, powerful rhythm. "Mine."
"Yes," she choked out. "Yours. Oh god, Peter, yours."
The world narrowed to the slick friction between us, the sound of our ragged breaths, the gasps and moans that filled the small room. Her nails dug into my back. My hands cupped her hips, holding her steady, guiding her rhythm.
Her climax started as a tremor, then built into a seismic wave. She cried out my name, her body arching off the bed. Her release pulled me along, a tidal wave of pure sensation.
I buried my face in her neck, holding her tight as her body convulsed around me. Then, I followed her over the edge, my own release shattering through me in a white-hot explosion.
We collapsed together, tangled limbs, slick skin, ragged breaths. Her body trembled against mine. My head was spinning.
This wasn't just sex. This was… oblivion.
We lay there for a long time, the silence broken only by our breathing and the distant hum of the streetlights. Her head was on my chest. My arm was draped protectively over her.
"Peter?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep and satiation.
"Mmm?"
"I think I’m in love with you."
The words hung in the air, heavy and terrifying.
My heart stopped. Then it started again, beating a frantic, off-rhythm tattoo against her ear.
Catastrophe.
I looked down at her sleeping form, her face softened by exhaustion and pleasure. Her hand was resting over my heart.
I had come here tonight expecting data. I had found annihilation.
I had given her my body. And in doing so, I had surrendered my soul.
And the terrifying truth? I didn't want it back.