Chapter 40 The Compass and the Collapse #2
“You were a spark in a blackout. At first, I convinced myself it was nothing, just heat, proximity, a fluke I could file away as a rebound before it got deep.”
A bitter smile feathers across his lips.
“But it was never just heat. You got under my skin immediately and in ways I didn’t think were possible, especially after Chloe. And instead of leaning into it, I tried to contain it. Label it. Push it away, so I wouldn’t have to risk heartbreak again.”
He leans forward, eyes dark with an emotion deeper than lust. “I should’ve said screw the rules. Screw the timing. Screw what anyone else thinks. Because my heart was screaming your name. And I didn’t listen.”
The night wraps around us as those simple words rip holes through my defenses.
Nolan looks down for a second, thumb trailing small circles on the water’s surface.
“But I should’ve. Way more than I wanted to admit.
And when I started feeling things for you, so quickly, so deeply—” His breath hitches like it hurts him.
“I thought I was going to mess it up. Or scare you off. Or make you regret ever letting me in.”
My heart thuds against my ribs. It’s trying to escape the truth he’s pouring into the air between us. I want to look away. I want to hide behind a joke or a jab or literally anything that doesn’t require me to face this tidal wave of honesty.
But I can’t.
Because it’s hitting me now. All of it.
I did the same thing at first. Refused my feelings, pushed him away. It was easier to do that than accept that he might be the one person who sees me—all of me.
Then I gave into those feelings. That want. That need. And it’s stayed with me ever since. And since we’re leaning into metaphors, every moment with him became an anchor in the storm. Not the kind that saves you. The kind that drags. Heavy with what could’ve been. Sharp with what wasn’t.
But even so, it held me still, reminded me what it felt like to want something in the middle of all that loss.
And this man stepped into my shambled life without asking for a map. He offered me steadiness without strings. He pulled away, yes—but not because he didn’t care.
Maybe because he did.
And now here he is, standing in the aftermath of our storm with his heart in his hands, giving me the choice.
“I hate that I hurt you,” he says softly. “But I’m also done pretending I don’t feel what I feel.”
He smiles, softly. Wounded.
My throat is tight. My heart’s an unmade bed of feelings I’m still figuring out how to climb into.
“I don’t know what all of this means. I don’t have a perfect answer. But I know I’ve missed you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. About us. About what we could’ve been if I hadn’t let fear win.”
Something different ignites between us.
Possibility. Hope.
I inhale. Hold it. Release it.
There’s so much I could say. So much I should say.
Instead, I gaze at the man who showed up tonight shirtless and guarded and stupidly beautiful, with his heart cracked wide open.
I open my mouth. I’m Textually Frustrated.
That’s what I almost say. But the name lodges behind my teeth, thick and burning and terrifying.
What if he sees it as a lie? A game? Another secret stacked on the ones he’s still bleeding from?
So instead, I choose the piece of truth I can give him right now. The one that’s safest and still entirely real.
“I’ve missed you too,” I say quietly.
His shoulders relax, a breath escapes him.
“I was mad,” I admit. “Still kind of am.”
“Fair.”
“But mostly I was… disappointed.”
He nods, like he understands exactly what I mean.
We’ve quieted now. No posturing, no plans. Only two souls suspended in water, the night sky sparkling above us, vast and silent, withholding its answers, waiting to see what we’ll choose without its permission.
He’s watching me.
Not with hunger.
Not with strategy.
With softness.
And then he moves.
Slowly. Carefully.
A hand comes to rest on the edge of the pool near mine, not touching, but close.
When his eyes find mine, they hold both a question and a promise in one.
Nolan leans in. I don’t stop him.
For all the ways I’ve tried to convince myself this is wrong or reckless or doomed, I shove them away. This moment doesn’t feel like a mistake.
It feels like gravity.
His mouth brushes mine, not demanding. Reverent. A whisper of lips. A breath shared.
My eyes flutter closed, and then I’m kissing him back, fully, fiercely, like I’ve been holding my breath since the first time we fought across a rooftop and in this moment, I finally remembered how to inhale.
His other hand rises from the water, threads through my damp hair, and tugs me closer.
I shift in the pool until we’re chest to chest, his body heat soaking into mine like sunlight breaking through the dark clouds.
Our kiss goes from tentative to desperate in a heartbeat. It’s all consuming and he kisses me like I’m not just another chapter in his story but a turning point.
I give myself to it. To the taste of him. The feel of him. The quiet groan that slips from his throat when my hand brushes down his chest, halting over the small constellation marked on his heart.
And when we finally break apart, we’re breathless.
Ruined.
Remade.
“You make me see stars,” he breathes, forehead resting against mine. “Ours will never fade. No matter how hard we’ve tried to make them.”
The words echo between us before his mouth finds mine again. Our bodies shift in the water, slick skin brushing slick skin, the world narrowing to heat and breath and the sound of need rising within.
Nolan grips my hips and lifts me with little effort, setting me on the pool’s edge, wet, breathless, and completely at his mercy.
His body slots between my thighs. Strong hands claim hips he’s already memorized.
One swift pull and I’m flush against him.
The need isn’t subtle. It’s carved into the way he touches me.
And then he’s lowering his lips to my neck, then my chest, moving with such careful intention it makes my whole body ache with need.
“Nolan,” I whisper.
“Trust me?”
I nod. I do. God help me—I do. Even though I probably shouldn’t.
“Lie back.”
Tiny kisses over my collarbone, hands coaxing my legs further apart as his mouth goes lower, trailing fire over my ribs, across my stomach, his stubble grazing my skin, soft and rough all at once. I can’t tell if the goosebumps are from him or the anticipation.
Nolan’s hands drag my bathing suit bottoms down my legs so slowly it borders on cruelty, exposing me inch by aching inch. The night air licks across my heat, but his mouth follows fast. The first flick of his tongue is gentle. Testing. Almost shy.
It’s a lie.
His tongue is hungry, and ruinously skilled.
I gasp, hands flying to the pool’s edge, gripping tight, as though it’s the only thing keeping me from floating away entirely.
Nolan glances up at me, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth. That devilish dimple is doing nothing but making me wetter. “You taste like moonlight on my fucking tongue.”
No one’s ever said things like that to me before. And somehow, those naughty words mean more to me than the orgasm.
Grinning, he hooks one leg over his shoulder. His voice is dirty, and lethal when he rasps, “I’d crawl across galaxies to eat this sweet pussy.”
My cheeks flush.
Our eyes connect.
One beat.
Two.
He dives in.
Warm lips wrap around my clit with filthy intent. I yelp at the sharp burst of pleasure that tears through me. He licks. He sucks. He devours until I’m whimpering, hips jerking, thighs trembling, almost completely undone.
Groaning against me, his mouth burrows deeper, a possessive tongue sliding through my center, savoring every response, every breathless sound then one finger slips inside, curling just right, his mouth never leaving me.
My hips jolt, fingers clawing at the edge as he coaxes pleasure from every trembling inch.
He owns this moment.
He owns me.
My head falls back, eyes fixed on the stars above, every flick of his tongue sketching new ones behind my eyelids when they close.
But then—
He stops.
Air punches from my lungs. My hips buck uselessly, searching for the friction he stole.
Dazed, I blink down at him, seconds from begging.
He grins. Dark. Not devilish.
Demonic.
“Do you want to come, Rorie?” he asks, voice wicked. He knows the answer. He wants to hear me say it.
The tension inside me is unbearable, tight and hot and needy in a way that makes pride feel like a luxury I can’t afford.
I try to hold out. Just a second longer. To keep a shred of control. But then he licks his lips, tasting me and I snap.
“Please,” I whisper.
His brows lift. “Say it again. Mean it.”
Goddamn this man.
“Please, Nolan. I need it. I need you.”
That’s all it takes.
A deep, primal growl erupts from his chest and then his mouth is on me again, tongue stroking and devastating, and his fingers—God, his fingers—slide back inside me, smooth and sure.
There’s no hesitation. No mercy.
He fucks me with his mouth and his hand like it’s his sole purpose in life to pull these sounds out of me, to find every edge and push me over it.
“Fuck,” I gasp, throwing my head back, eyes opening and closing as he works me open with his mouth, his tongue, that fucking talent.
My hips rock against him, helpless, frantic, desperate. And when I come it’s not quiet. It’s not sweet.
It’s a fucking collapse.
My legs shake. My lungs forget how to breathe. My voice breaks on his name.
And as the pleasure crashes through me as a tidal wave, I swear—for one stupid, terrifying, beautiful second—I feel something deeper pull tight in my chest.
With deliberate ease, he crawls out of the pool, water trailing down every inch of him.
His hands plant on either side of me, his body following until he settles between my legs, dripping wet and devastatingly handsome.
His eyes are lit with mischief, and shadowed with heat as he looks down at me like I’m the night sky itself. Like I’m something holy.
But what I give him is nothing short of sinful.
I cup his erection and he groans—loud, feral—before his lips latch onto me. He doesn’t ease in. He consumes. Tongue hammering, lips sucking.
“Nolan,” I whisper, voice barely mine. “I want you.”
Eyes wild, chest heaving, he says, “You have me.”
“No.” I tighten my grip, dragging my thumb along the ridge that makes my pulse skip. “I mean I want you. Inside me.”
His jaw clenches. For a second, I think he’s going to end all of this right here and now. But instead, he hisses a curse through his teeth and drops his forehead to my shoulder.
“Rorie,” he says, voice rough, reverent. “I don’t have any protection.”
I blink, breathless, aching. “Are you seriously telling me you’re the kind of guy who shows up to a tropical resort unprepared?”
“I didn’t exactly plan on fucking my rival in paradise.”
I laugh—half annoyed, half turned on—and run my fingers through his hair. “Liar.”
He looks up, smirking. “Give me ten minutes and a very fast golf cart.”
“I’m clean. And on birth control. Sooo, if you’re okay with it…”
My fingers tease the edge of his swim trunks before diving inside them. And, oh my.
Licking my lips, I stroke his very large, very girthy cock.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says rolling us over so I’m straddling him.
It takes me all of two seconds to yank his shorts down. When his cock springs free, my mouth waters with anticipation. It’s glorious.
And he’s so beautiful.
As I drink him in slowly, my tongue darts out over my bottom lip. I can’t take the wait any longer and lick up his veiny shaft once. Nolan’s response pulses through me.
“Baby, get on me before you make me lose it. I want to feel you.”
My pussy throbs as I climb onto him. Our eyes latch onto each other for a beat then I line up the head of his cock with my entrance. I’m so ready for him.
Nolan’s hands grip my hips, waiting and then I lower myself onto his rock hard length. His chest rises and he lifts a hand to slide my bikini top up, giving him access to my breasts, his thumb teasing my pebbled nipples.
I roll my hips against him, gentle at first, then faster, riding him with purpose. With power. With a desperation I don’t bother hiding.
He loves watching me fall apart, and I swear it shoots straight through me like lightning.
I grind harder, chasing it. Needing it. Needing him.
And Nolan takes it. All of it. Mouth parted, eyes locked on me. I’m both the storm and the surrender.
Every roll of my hips against him sends another jolt of pleasure spiraling through me. His cock is greedy, perfect, pounding inside me in ways that make my legs quake and my breath stutter.
His hands grip my ass, holding me in place as I work him harder, deeper. Heat coils in my belly, tight and bright and relentless.
My pace falters.
My thighs begin to shake.
He groans. That sound—that deep, vibration—shoots straight to my core, and I whimper, hips jerking. My fingers claw at his chest, gripping just enough to ground myself as the pleasure crests, rising, rising—
My mouth falls open, a gasp catching in my throat.
“Nolan—” It’s barely a word.
He lifts my hips and takes over so that I can shatter.
The orgasm tears through me. A cry rips from my throat, my thighs clamp, and the stars above blur with every tremor of his warm release inside me.
He doesn’t stop. He rises, kisses me through it, slows only when my thighs twitch and my breath comes in jagged bursts. His hands are gentler now. Soothing. Steady. Worshipful.
When I finally collapse, breathless and limp, my entire body buzzing, he lifts my chin and looks at me with the filthiest, most satisfied grin I’ve ever seen.
And somehow, the most reverent.
I slide off him, legs jelly, heart pounding. He shifts beside me, gleaming with smug delight.
“This,” he says, voice low and wicked, “was significantly better than a public bathroom.”
My laugh bursts out, ragged and real. “You think?”
“Oh, I know.” He props himself up on one elbow, trailing a finger along my thigh. “I think the whole resort heard you though.”
I cover my face with both hands, groaning. “I genuinely hate you.”
“Say that again.” His lips graze my shoulder. “And I’ll make you scream it the next time those words leave your lips.”
Well, that makes me want to say over and over, to see if he’ll make good on that promise.
I glare at him from between my fingers. “You are absolutely insufferable.”
“And you’re absolutely ruined.” His voice drops, darker now. “So…shall I prepare for round two?”