Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Swift
The city didn’t sleep.
Not really.
From the window, I watched the bar crowd stumble their way down State Street, laughing too loud, leaning too heavily on each other, chasing a night that was just starting.
I took a drag off my cigarette, letting the smoke roll out slowly through the crack in the window.
It should’ve been just another night.
Watching. Waiting. Keeping her safe, but nothing about tonight felt normal.
Because all I could think about was her. That kiss.
Jesus.
I dragged a hand down my jaw, staring out at the street but not seeing a damn thing. I’d kissed women before, plenty of them, but nothing, nothing, had ever felt like that.
It hadn’t just been physical.
It had been… everything.
Like something in me had snapped into place the second her lips touched mine.
Like I’d been running on half a tank my whole life and didn’t even realize it until her.
And now?
Now I couldn’t imagine going back.
I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke disappear into the night.
I’d tried to tell her. Tried to tell her that there was no going back after that.
That once we crossed that line, it was done.
No undoing it.
No pretending it didn’t mean something.
But she’d said no, not there.
What the hell did that even mean?
I clenched my jaw. Did she regret it? Did she not feel it the same way I did?
My eyes shifted down the street again. That’s when I saw him.
Same guy.
Third time I’d clocked him.
Mid-thirties maybe. Baseball cap. Hands shoved in his pockets like he didn’t know where to put them.
He walked past the building again, slower this time.
Like he was looking for something, or someone.
My body went still.
I took one last drag, then crushed the cigarette out against the tray on the sill and filed him away in my memory. Not a threat yet, but not nothing either.
“Dinner.”
Her voice pulled me out of it.
I glanced back once more, committing the guy’s face to memory, then pushed off the window and headed into the kitchen.
And damn, the smell hit me first.
Rich. Warm. Comforting in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Britta stood at the counter, two plates already set up. Spaghetti. Garlic bread.
Simple, but it hit me harder than it should’ve.
“Damn, sugar,” I said, stepping in. “You made this? Hell of a lot better than what I’ve been making.”
She laughed softly, handing me a fork. “It’s just jar sauce and boiled noodles, Swift.”
Maybe, but it wasn’t about that.
It was about her doing something for me.
I looked at her then, really looked, and I saw it. That tension and uncertainty.
And I was done with it.
“We gotta talk, sugar.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “No, it’s okay, Swift.”
No, it wasn’t. I shook my head and stepped closer. “Nah. We gotta talk about this afternoon.”
She turned away. “We don’t need to. I can see how you feel.”
That stopped me. Like hell she could.
I reached out, catching her arm gently and turning her back toward me. “I don’t think you know what I’m feeling, sugar.”
Her eyes lifted to mine. There it was again, that pull and heat. It hit just as hard as it had in the storeroom.
I stepped closer, backing her up until her hips hit the counter. No more space. No more distance.
“Talk to me,” I said, softer now.
Her breath caught. “This afternoon…” she started, then stopped. Tried again. “After we kissed…”
I wasn’t even hearing the rest.
My eyes dropped to her lips.
God, I wanted her.
Wanted her in a way that made it hard to think straight.
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. Enough of this. “You liked when I kissed you?” I asked.
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”
My jaw tightened.
“Did you like it?” she asked back.
“Fucking loved it,” I growled. “Trying not to do it again until I know for sure you want it.”
Her brows pulled together. “But after, you seemed…”
“I seemed what?”
“Like it didn’t affect you.”
I let out a low, rough breath. Didn’t affect me? Jesus. I leaned in, brushing my mouth against hers, soft this time. Controlled, but it still hit like a damn punch.
Her breath hitched.
“There has never been a time in my life where I haven’t been in control,” I murmured. “That all changed the second your lips met mine.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt.
“The only thing I want more than my next breath,” I continued, voice rougher now, “is you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Swift…”
“Britta, I want you,” I said plainly. “That change? It’s already happened.”
Something in her snapped then.
Or maybe it was me.
Because the next second, she was kissing me again.
And this time, there was no holding back.
My hands moved to her waist, pulling her tighter against me as her arms slid around my shoulders. The kiss deepened fast, heat building between us like it had been waiting for permission.
I lifted her up onto the counter without breaking contact, and she went willingly, legs wrapping around me as she pulled me closer.
Her fingers slid through my hair.
My hands traced her sides, careful but not hesitant, memorizing every inch I touched.
“Swift,” she breathed against my mouth.
“Yeah, sugar,” I muttered, kissing her again, slower this time but no less intense.
I kept it controlled, even when every instinct in me said to take more, go further, lose the last bit of restraint I had left.
Because this?
This mattered.
She mattered.
And I wasn’t going to rush it.
Her hands were everywhere. My shoulders, my chest, like she was figuring me out the same way I was her.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. “You good?” I asked quietly.
She nodded immediately. “Yes.”
That was all I needed.
I kissed her again, slower now, deeper in a different way. Less desperate and more intentional.
“Swift,” she breathed, her voice already wrecked, already gone.
“Yeah, sugar,” I muttered, dragging my mouth from her lips to her jaw, then down her neck.
Her head tipped back, giving me more, and I took it.
Slow at first.
Then not.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders as I kissed down the side of her throat, feeling the way her pulse jumped beneath my mouth. Every reaction she gave me fed something in me that had been barely held together all day.
All week.
“Been thinking about this,” I admitted against her skin.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
My hands moved under the hem of her shirt, sliding up her sides, feeling the warmth of her skin, the way she shivered under my touch.
“Tell me to stop,” I said, forcing the words out even though everything in me resisted it.
Her hands came up to my face, pulling me back to her. “Don’t you dare.”
That was all I needed.
Her shirt came up, careful of her shoulder, but once it was off, my restraint took another hit.
“Still good?” I asked, my voice rougher now.
She nodded, breath shaky. “Yes.”
I kissed her again, deeper this time, slower but more consuming, like I was memorizing her. My hands traced over her, learning her shape, her reactions, the way she pressed into me like she couldn’t get close enough.
Her hands moved to my shirt next, pushing it up and off with a little less patience.
It hit the floor somewhere behind me.
I didn’t care.
Her fingers dragged over my chest, her touch curious at first, and then not.
“Britta,” I warned low when she got bolder.
She just smiled against my mouth.
Dangerous.
So damn dangerous.
I shifted her slightly, settling between her knees as she wrapped her legs around me like she belonged there. Like she’d always been meant to be right here.
The kiss turned deeper. Hungrier. Her breath mixing with mine, and her body moved against me in a way that made my control fray at the edges.
“Swift…” she gasped.
“Yeah,” I answered, even though I didn’t know what she was asking for.
I just knew I was going to give it to her.
My hands slid down her sides, then lower, slow enough to feel every reaction, every hitch of her breath, every shift of her body.
She grabbed onto me tighter.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
I wasn’t planning on it.
Not even a little.
But I slowed anyway—on purpose—letting the tension build instead of rushing through it.
Because this? This wasn’t something I wanted to burn through.
This was something I wanted to feel.
Every second of it.
Every inch.
Every reaction.
Her head fell back again when I kissed down her neck, and I followed the line of her throat, taking my time, dragging it out until she was gripping me like she needed something more.
“Swift,” she said again, this time more desperate. I pulled back just enough to look at her—eyes blown wide and her chest rising fast.
Lips parted.
Mine.
Mine if she wanted me.
“You sure?” I asked again, one last time.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
That was it.
Everything after that blurred into heat and movement and the kind of connection I’d never felt before. Not just physical. More.
Way more.
My focus was locked on her.
Always her.
Her breath hitched when my hands slid down her sides again, slower this time, tracing, learning, feeling the way her body reacted to every touch.
“Swift…” she whispered.
“Yeah, sugar,” I murmured, my mouth finding hers again, stealing another kiss that was slower but no less consuming.
Her fingers dropped to the button of my jeans, and I felt the shift in her.
Less unsure, more certain.
She popped it open, her hands brushing against me in a way that made my breath catch this time.
“Careful,” I warned low, my forehead dropping to hers.
She smiled against my lips. “No.”
Jesus.
I helped her, kicking my boots off and shoving my jeans down, stepping out of them in one quick movement.
She stilled for half a second, eyes dropping. Then she blinked. “You’re not wearing—”
I huffed out a low laugh, brushing my mouth along her jaw. “Never do, babe.”
Her fingers curled slightly, curiosity flashing across her face before heat replaced it. “If I had known that this whole time…” she trailed off.
I smirked against her skin. “This would’ve happened sooner?”
She laughed, breathless. “Also-fucking-lutely.”
That sound, her laugh, did something to me.
Something deeper than just the heat building between us.
I slid my hands to her waist, then lower, fingers hooking into the fabric of her pants.
“Lift,” I murmured.
She did with no hesitation.
I eased them down her legs, taking my time, letting my hands linger where they wanted to, feeling her shift and respond to every touch.
Her breath came quicker now, shallower.
My mouth followed the line of her neck again, dragging slow kisses across her skin while my hands finished what they started.
When she was bare to me, I paused.
Just for a second.
Taking her in and memorizing it.
“Still good?” I asked quietly.
Her fingers slid into my hair, pulling me back to her. “Yes.”
That was all I needed.
Her hand wrapped around my cock then, slow, curious at first, and I groaned, the sound rough and unfiltered as my head dropped to her shoulder.
“Britta…”
She moved again, more confident now, learning what made me react, what pulled those sounds from me without trying.
I let her.
God, I let her.
But not for long.
My hand moved between us, finding her clit, feeling the heat there. She reacted instantly to my touch. Her breath broke. “Swift—”
“Yeah,” I muttered, my fingers moving slower than she wanted, building instead of rushing.
Always building.
She clung to me, her body arching toward my hand, chasing and asking for more without words. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.
I didn’t. But I didn’t give her everything either, not yet.
I took her right to the edge. Felt it in the way her body tightened and the way her breath stuttered, then I stopped.
She gasped, eyes snapping open. “Swift—”
I didn’t give her time to complain. I shifted her, pulling her to the edge of the counter, stepping in closer, my hands gripping her hips as I lined up with her.
“This okay?” I asked, my voice rough but steady.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”
That was it.
I pushed in slow.
Careful.
Giving her time to adjust. I felt every inch of it.
Her breath caught, her hands gripping my shoulders as she relaxed, and her body pulled me in deeper without meaning to. “God—” she gasped.
“Easy,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I got you.”
I stayed there for a second.
Letting her feel it and letting me feel it.
Because this? This wasn’t just sex.
This was something else. Something I wasn’t walking away from.
Then I moved.
Slow at first and measured.
Every thrust deliberate, every movement pulling more from her, more from me, until that tight control I’d been holding onto started to slip.
Her legs tightened around me, pulling me closer. “Swift… don’t—don’t go slow,” she breathed.
I huffed out a rough laugh. “Careful what you ask for, sugar.”
Then I gave her what she wanted.
Faster.
Harder.
My hand came back between us, finding her clit again, pushing her higher, closer, faster than she could keep up with.
Her head fell back, her voice breaking on my name as she held onto me like I was the only thing keeping her grounded.
“Swift! Swift!”
“Yeah, babe,” I groaned, losing that last bit of control. “Right there—”
Her body tightened, shook, and then she broke.
My name falling from her lips as everything in her gave way.
That was all it took. I followed her over the edge, pulling her against me, holding her there as everything snapped tight and then let go.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Just breathing. Just… there.
Her arms wrapped around me, her body soft against mine now, and her breath still uneven. “That was…” she started.
“Yeah,” I muttered, pressing my forehead to hers.
No better word.
Just—yeah.
I ran my hand up her back slowly, bringing both of us down. “You okay?” I asked.
She laughed softly, still catching her breath. “That was amazing.”
I smiled against her skin. “I meant your shoulder.”
She blinked, then leaned back, looking down at it like she’d forgotten it existed. “I have a shoulder?” she laughed.
I huffed out a low chuckle and kissed her again, slow this time, and softer.
She melted into it anyway. “Our dinner is cold,” she murmured.
“We can heat it up,” I said.
“After we shower?”
I smirked. “I like the way you think.”
I helped her down carefully, steadying her before letting go.
Then I followed her toward the bathroom, my eyes dragging over her like I couldn’t help it.
Didn’t want to.
The shower turned on, and steam filled the room.
She stepped in, then looked back at me. She reached for me again, and I didn’t hesitate.
Not this time.
Not ever again.