25. Eva #2
He lifts me onto the counter. I lock my legs around his waist and grind against him.
He’s already hard, and the friction through his sweatpants drags a moan out of me that echoes off the kitchen walls.
His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw to the hollow of my throat, his teeth scraping against my skin.
I shiver as his demanding hands slide under the shirt and up the sides of my ribcage. Slow. So goddamn slow I want to scream.
“Don’t make me wait,” I gasp.
“So impatient.” He lifts me off the counter and carries me through the cabin with my legs wrapped around him, my hips rocking against his cock with every step.
He lays me down on his mother’s quilt and pulls his shirt off my body in one smooth motion.
For a second, he just looks at me, naked, legs spread and waiting.
Then he dips his head, closes his lips around my nipple, and every thought I’ve ever had fizzles.
He works his way down my body, pressing his mouth to every inch of skin he encounters. My shoulder. My ribs. My hip bone. My inner thighs. He lingers there, his breath hot against my skin, and I squirm because he’s so close to where I need him, and he knows it.
“You’re going slow on purpose,” I choke out.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to remember every second of this.”
Oh my God, this man.
He pushes my legs farther apart and lowers his mouth to my pussy.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me cry out and my hips buck off the bed.
He pins them down with one hand flat on my stomach and takes his sweet, devastating time.
Licking. Sucking. His tongue circling my clit with the kind of focus that this man usually saves for hacking.
“Fuck, Wolfe. Right there. Don’t stop.” I thrust against his mouth, my pussy lips quivering as sparks ignite in my belly.
He doesn’t stop. He slides two fingers inside me and curls them while his mouth keeps working and my whole body lights up from the inside out. I fist his hair, probably hard enough to hurt, and he groans, the vibration sending a jolt straight through my core.
“Holy shit,” I rasp.
The orgasm rolls through me—slow and deep and devastating. I gasp for air as I hold his head in place. My back arches off the bed, my thighs clamping around him as my entire body quakes and writhes under his masterful tongue.
I shudder from delicious aftershocks as he kisses his way back up to my mouth. He grabs a condom, tears open the packet, and rolls it on. I take his cock and rub it against my pussy. He hisses through his teeth and his abs clench, the look on his face so raw, so exposed it makes my eyes sting.
I pull him down over me. He pushes inside, slow, stretching me open inch by inch until he’s buried deep and we’re both holding our breath.
Our gazes lock. Neither of us looks away.
I push his head toward mine, capturing his lips, coiling my tongue with his as he fucks me with long, deep strokes, each one catapulting me closer and closer to the brink of utter bliss.
His forehead rests against mine. His hips roll into me with a rhythm that builds heat low in my belly with every stroke.
“Harder,” I whisper against his mouth.
One of his hands grips my thigh and hitches it higher, the angle change making me gasp. He drives deeper, his breath ragged against my neck, and I scrape my nails down his back hard enough to leave marks.
“Eva,” he says, staring into my eyes. “I need you to come with me. I need to feel you all over me.”
“I’m close. I’m so close…”
He shifts his hips and hits the spot that makes my vision blur. I cry out and clench my muscles tight around him. The orgasm rumbles deep in my lower belly. He thrusts harder, faster, his rhythm now frenzied, and I grab his face and kiss him as it slams through both of us at the same time.
My whole body seizes. He groans into my mouth and his hips stutter, and I feel his cock pulse inside me. We claw at each other, gasping for breath, our bodies slick with sweat as we ride out the euphoric wave.
He doesn’t roll away afterward. He stays on top of me, his weight pressing me into the quilt, his face buried in my neck. I run my fingers through his hair and feel his heart slamming against my chest.
“Wolfe.”
“Yeah.” Muffled against my skin.
“Whatever happens Thursday…whatever happens afterward. This thing between us is real. You know that, right?”
He lifts his head and fuck me, he looks completely leveled. The smartest man I’ve ever met staring at me like his brain just hit a wall it can’t think its way around.
“I know,” he says.
“Good.” I pull him back down. “Now stop memorizing me and just be here.”
He buries his face in my neck and holds me close. We lie here, my whole world reduced to this bed, this man, and the hope that whatever the hell happens with this operation on Thursday won’t ruin what tonight just built.
Cillian comes on Wednesday afternoon to pick up Wolfe. He gave Cillian the cabin address since nobody in his family had it before today.
I hear the car on the dirt road before Wolfe does. When he walks out of the bathroom in an Avenged Sevenfold shirt with his dark hair slicked back, his forehead pinches.
“He’s here,” I say, swallowing the lump that just started to grow in the back of my throat.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be back by Friday morning,” he says, reaching out to graze the side of my face. I let my eyes float closed for a second and let out a breath.
When I open my eyes, I force a smile. “You know, you’ve said that four times now.”
“Want to hear it a fifth?”
“It won’t help.” I fold my arms. “But say it anyway.”
“I’ll be back by Friday morning. Sal will be safe. The operation will be done. And we’ll figure out the rest from here.”
“The rest,” I repeat.
“The rest.”
He cups my face and kisses me. Slow. Like he’s taking his time on purpose.
When he pulls back, he doesn’t let go right away. His thumbs stay on my cheekbones. His eyes move over my face the way they’ve been doing all day.
“Come back to me,” I say.
“That’s the plan.”
“Not a plan. A fact. You said facts are better than promises.”
“I’ll be back by Friday morning. That’s a fact.”
A pang assaults my chest. “Then why do you look like you’re saying goodbye?”
His jaw tightens. He doesn’t answer that. He just presses his lips against my forehead and holds them there for a long time. Longer than he’s ever done before.
Then he grabs his bag and walks out of the bedroom.
I follow him out to the porch. Cillian leans against the car. He nods at me. I nod back, the lump in my throat damn near choking me right about now.
Wolfe tosses his bag in the back seat. He turns and looks at me standing on the porch of his cabin wearing one of his shirts with my arms wrapped around myself.
“Friday,” he calls out.
“Friday.” Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but there’s no way in hell I’ll let them fall.
He gets in the car. Cillian backs out of the driveway and onto the road. I watch the car get smaller and smaller until the trees swallow them whole.
Then it’s just me. Alone.
The cabin is dead quiet when I walk back inside. But it’s not the peaceful kind of quiet. It’s more the holding your breath kind.
His laptop is on the kitchen table. His toothbrush is in the bathroom. His mother’s quilt is twisted on the bed. The whole cabin smells like him and I’m standing in the middle of it alone.
I pace around for a little while, then try to read. I stare at the same page for ten minutes before I toss the book onto the coffee table. Focus is impossible.
Then I put on a coat and walk outside. I sink into one of the porch chairs, but my eyes fall to the spot next to me, and the empty chair just makes my heart ache more.
With a loud groan, I walk back inside and pace the living room. I stare at the trees out the window. I check my phone for updates that haven’t come yet.
I stare at Wolfe’s laptop. He told me I’d have full access. Eyes on everything.
But I’m a hacker. I don’t sit still while other people work. It’s just not in my DNA.
I last about forty-five minutes.
Then I turn it on.