Chapter 17 #2
When we broke apart this time, he lifted me off the counter like I weighed nothing, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carried me to the couch and sat, settling me in his lap.
Beau raised his head from his bed, gave us a look that suggested we were being ridiculous, and went back to sleep.
“He’s judging us,” I said.
“He judges everything. It’s his default state.”
I settled against Tolrek’s chest, his arms coming around me. We fit together well, given the size difference. His heart beat steadily under my ear.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Anything. Something small.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I wanted to be a teacher when I was young.”
That surprised me. “Really?”
“Truly. History, as you might assume. I loved learning about how things used to be. How people lived before everything changed.”
“What made you choose hockey instead?”
“I was good at it. And Renkar loved it. He was better than me at most things, but I was better at hockey. It felt like something that was mine.”
“I think you would’ve been a good teacher,” I said.
“Maybe. But then I wouldn’t be here.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“Yes.” His arms tightened around me. “Because I wouldn’t have met you.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. “That’s disgustingly sweet.”
“I know.”
“I might have to kiss you again.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
I shifted my position in his lap to get a better angle. His hands moved to my hips, holding me steady.
The kisses turned deeper, more urgent. I stroked his shoulders, teasing around to his chest. His hands slid under my shirt, stroking my back.
I pulled back, my breathing heavy. “Tolrek?”
“Yes?”
“I want you.”
His pupils dilated. “Haley—”
“I’m sure.”
“We don’t have to—”
I climbed off his lap and stood in front of him, holding out my hand. “Bedroom. Now.”
He took my hand and let me pull him up.
The bedroom was at the end of a short hallway. I caught glimpses of a bathroom on the left, and another door that probably led to a closet. When we were inside, he closed the door behind us.
The bed had been made, and the room was neat in a way that suggested he’d cleaned before I arrived. That detail made my heart squeeze.
“We can stop anytime,” he said. “If it’s too much—”
I rose onto my toes and kissed him.
He made a sound low in his chest, his hands finding my waist and pulling me flush against him. I could feel him hard against my belly, and the knowledge that I’d done that to him made heat pool between my thighs.
My hands found the hem of his shirt, and I tugged upward. He helped, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside.
Green skin. Muscles. Scars I wanted to trace and ask about later. I pressed my palms against his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing under my touch.
“Your turn,” he said.
I tugged my own shirt off, a bit self-conscious. I hadn’t slept with anyone in a very long time. What if I wasn’t good at this anymore? What if I made weird noises or couldn’t—
“You’re thinking too loud,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s been a while.”
Understanding crossed his face. “How long?”
“Two years. Maybe three.”
“That’s a long time.”
“I know. I just—what if I’m bad at this now? What if I’ve forgotten how—”
He kissed me, slow and thorough. “You’re not going to be bad at this.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You don’t do anything partway.” His hands found the clasp of my bra, unhooking it easily. “And I’m going to make sure you enjoy every second of it.”
The bra fell away. His gaze dropped, and the expression on his face made my insecurities quiet.
“Gorgeous,” he said. “You’re so fucking gorgeous.”
He cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. I gasped, arching into his touch.
“That’s it,” he said. “Stop thinking. Just feel.”
He guided me backward until my legs hit the bed. I sat, and he knelt in front of me, his hands going to the waistband of my jeans.
“May I?” he asked.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He unbuttoned them slowly, his knuckles brushing my belly. When he tugged them down my legs, he took my underwear along with them, leaving me completely bare in front of him. He still wore his jeans. Somehow that made this hotter.
He pressed a kiss to my inner thigh, his breath warm. “Lie back.”
I did, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him.
He kissed his way up my thigh. When his mouth finally reached where I needed him most, I stopped breathing. The first stroke of his tongue made my hips jerk upward. He did it again.
“I want to taste you,” he said against my skin. “Let me.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, his tongue circling my clit in slow, deliberate strokes. I fell back against the bed, gripping the sheets.
It was too much and not enough. He was taking his time, learning what I liked, adjusting based on the sounds I made. When I gasped, he did it again. When I moaned, he changed the angle.
He slid a finger inside me, then another, pumping slowly while his tongue worked, reminding me of where we’d left off in my office today and where we were going next.
The dual sensation made my thighs tremble.
“You taste incredible,” he said. “I could do this all night.”
“I need you…”
He chuckled against me, the vibration making me whimper. “Impatient for my cock, love?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He increased his pace, his fingers hitting a spot inside me. I saw stars. His tongue circled faster, and my orgasm built, tension coiling tighter and tighter inside me.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let go.”
I came with a cry, my back arching off the bed. He carried me through it, his fingers gentling but not stopping until the last aftershock had faded.
When I could breathe, I looked down to find him watching me with an expression that made heat pool in my belly all over again.
“That was—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“We’re not done.”
He stood and unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down over his hips.