48. Impossibly closer to you
He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
Something is changing in the way he looks at me. The hatred flickers out. The mistrust fades. His eyes lock onto mine, and it's different now. Not cold. Not sharp.
Searching.
I put one knee on the bed, getting closer.
His lips part again. His chest rises and falls, faster now.
I wait for him to push me back, to say no, to do something.
But he doesn't move. His eyes just stay on mine.
So I place my hands on his shoulders, slowly, and pull my other leg up, settling onto his lap.His whole body goes tense beneath me and hisbreath catches—sharp and audible.
But instead of pushing me away, he leans closer, chin tilting up. His hands ball into fists against the mattress.
"What are you doing to me?"
I almost laugh. Stubborn wolf.
"Do you want me to stop?"
His gaze drops to my mouth. Lingers. He bites his lip. When he looks back at me, his eyes are darker.
"No." His voice comes out raspy, rough. He leans into my neck and inhales deeply—long and purposeful.
Goosebumps raise on my arms the moment his breath meets my skin.
When he pulls back, his fingers curl around my waist, tightening. Heat floods through me, settling low in my stomach.
I lower my head and press a kiss to his cheek. Then his other cheek. Then his forehead. When I pull back slightly, his fingers close around my chin, stopping me.
"You forgot one part." A small smile plays around his lips.
"Oh, did I?" I smile too, then lean in and give him the tiniest peck on his lips.
But he seems to have made up his mind now—definitively—because this time he doesn't let me pull away. Instead, he takes my face in both hands and starts to kiss me seriously. His mouth opens, and my heartbeat spirals out of control. I feel his kiss everywhere in my body.
My hands wander up without thinking, sliding to his neck, then threading into his hair, pulling him closer. Our breathing picks up, synchronized and frantic. The only thing I can think about is more. I want more.
He makes a surprised sound when I bite his lip gently, then breaks into a wider smile. But when he moves to kiss me again, I push his shoulder down to the bed.
Surprisingly, he lets me, breath coming fast as he looks up at me, chest rising and falling rapidly. When he reaches for my legs, I catch both his wrists and pin them above his head. He doesn't resist—only starts to grin, something heated and challenging flickering in his expression.
Then I see his mood shift. His eyebrows draw together, jaw tightening for just a second.
"Do you want me to stop now?" I release his wrists immediately.
He shakes his head quickly, grabbing my hands before I can move away. "No." He pulls them back above his head, positioning them higher this time, making me shift my weight forward, bringing our bodies flush together.
"I just wondered..." He stops, searching my face. "How I could forget you, when my body is telling me that..." He trails off.
I press myself more firmly against him, feeling the evidence of exactly what his body is telling him, and grip his hands tighter—not restraining anymore, but anchoring myself.
"When your body is telling you what?" I ask.
He doesn't answer for a moment. Then, before I can process what's happening, he flips us—his strength catching me completely off guard. Now I'm on my back, arms pinned above my head by his larger hands, one of his legs pushing between mine, opening them.
"When my body is telling me to get impossibly closer to yours."
One of his hands releases mine, traveling down my arm so lightly it's barely a touch—like a feather.
He traces down to my neck, then to the edge of my towel where it's tucked.
His fingers wander back up, exploring the hollows of my collarbones with maddening slowness.
My mouth opens but no words come out. I focus on just breathing.
My eyes close and I surrender to sensation—every slight movement, every touch on my neck, my jaw, my lips.
He slides one finger into my mouth. I lick it.
He draws it back slowly, replacing the emptiness with his mouth and tongue, still touching me.
My body feels like it's on fire. When his thigh presses higher between my legs, I can't do anything but hold onto him, my hips starting to move on their own—rolling against him again and again, seeking friction, seeking him.
My towel is still technically on, but it's a mess, bunched and twisted between us. Yet he hasn't looked down once. When I open my eyes, his gaze is locked only on my face, drinking in every expression.
"What are you staring at?" I ask when his lips finally leave mine, both of us panting, watching each other breathe.
"How could I forget you?" He asks again, shaking his head in disbelief. "How could I ever forget this?" One hand moves up beneath my towel, palm hot against my bare skin.
"Well, we haven't actually..." I stop, heat flooding my face. God, I'm suddenly embarrassed.
"What?" He looks genuinely perplexed, pulling back slightly.
I free my hands from his grip and push myself up. He sits back, and now we're facing each other—me half-naked with my towel barely clinging on, him fully dressed with messed-up hair, red lips, and hungry eyes that won't stop devouring me.
"We..." I fumble with the towel, trying to pull it back into place, which somehow makes it worse. The whole thing comes loose in my hands. Fuck, how did I—
"Boom, boom." The knock on the door yanks me out of the moment instantly.
"Did you lock the—"
The door swings open.
Fuck.
He moves faster than I've ever seen him move—throwing the blanket from the bed onto my exposed chest, practically covering the rest of me with his entire body, shielding me from view.