Chapter 27 #2
Mabel used to tease me for being so virginal.
She said I’d be mad I waited so long once I realized what I’d been missing.
But she was wrong, as she was about so many other things.
I’m happy I spent last spring at Swiftmore pushing him away.
I’m happy we didn’t give in to this lust between us back when we had the chance.
I’m happy we spent the past few months so far apart, because it allowed us to get close in a way I know we never would have without it.
Now, when I look in his eyes, I see him.
And he sees me, faults and all. I’m not free-falling into something that terrifies me.
I’m stepping there willingly, because I’m brave enough to sink into that fear, to let it thrill me instead.
Holding his gaze, I drop my arms from his shoulders to grip the hem of my shirt and slip it over my head.
His eyes flare. He licks his lips as if his mouth has suddenly gone dry.
His attention drops as I slowly reach behind my back to unclasp my bra.
I let the fabric roll down my arms, then fall away.
His chest expands, as if he can’t pull in enough air.
“I’m done waiting,” I whisper. “I trust you.”
“If you tell me to stop, I will.”
“Don’t.”
He crushes his lips to mine and kneads my exposed flesh.
I gasp into his mouth, already addicted to the feel of his hands on me with no fabric, no barriers left between us.
With my legs still wrapped around him, it’s impossible to miss the growing hardness pressing deliciously against me, providing the friction I crave.
For the first time in my life, I want more.
I need more.
My hands find the hem of his sweatshirt, but he’s so much taller than me, I can’t get it off myself.
He reaches back and yanks it off his head, tossing it carelessly to the side as he captures my mouth again.
With the crushing force of a vise, he wraps his arms around me, no space, no air, just heat and skin.
We’re molded so tightly I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
Then he steps back until his knees hit the bed.
We drop together, so I’m straddling him on the edge of the mattress.
He lets me set the pace, gives me time to run my palms over the contours of his arms, to explore the planes of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs.
I roll my hips, grinning when he groans into my lips.
Nox must take it as a challenge, because the next thing I know his mouth is slipping down my neck, over my collarbone, and I’m not in control any longer.
I’m on fire. The solid length of him presses into the seam of my shorts just right as he rocks me with his hands and sucks me with his lips.
I’m already starting to see stars. Years of buildup crash over me faster than I can believe, and I’m helpless against it.
There’s a vulnerable edge to my voice as I plead his name.
“Nox.”
“I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say my name like that.”
“Nox.”
“Please, baby.”
The endearment on his lips sends me over the edge and I clutch at his hair, his name erupting as a cry.
He slides his arm behind my back and flips me over with an athleticism I never fully appreciated until now, somehow rolling me and lifting me at the same time, so I land with my head up on the pillows, his arms on either side of me.
There’s a dark promise in his eyes, an intensity that shouldn’t surprise me.
He’s used to being the best. More than that, he knows the work that goes into it. Today, I’m his gold medal.
I think I have been for a while.
He holds my gaze as he kisses his way down my sternum and tugs my shorts over my hips.
My underwear follows. When he touches his mouth to the soft skin of my inner thigh, just above my knee, my entire back arches with anticipation.
I suck in breath after breath as he drags his lips nearer.
My palm pushes against the headboard behind me when they finally land true.
He hooks my leg over his shoulder, opening me as my gasps fill the quiet.
Just when I reach a new edge, he jumps up, lips devouring me as his hands take their place, fingers delving where none ever have before.
I grab at his shoulders, at his hair, any sort of anchor as I race higher and higher, my heart a comet in my chest, flying fast, consumed by the blaze.
When I slip my hand beneath the elastic band of his pants and wrap my fingers around him, he hisses as if he’s in pain and buries his head against my neck.
“You can’t,” he groans. “I won’t make it, Clara.”
“I’m ready, Nox.”
He rips the condom wrapper open with his teeth.
The size of him hurts at first, but not as much as I thought.
The more he moves, the better it feels, until I forget the pain.
It disappears into a fullness I can’t get enough of, leaving me clutching at him for more, and more, and more, a pleasure I don’t think I’ll ever find outside the touch of our skin.
He holds me as we come down from the high, wrapping his arm solidly around my back, digging his large hand possessively into my hip, gliding his other fingers gently up and down my arm, as if even at rest, he can’t get enough of touching me.
I roll half on top of him, snuggling into the warmth of his skin, his muscular body somehow the most comfortable pillow.
With my ear to his chest, I listen to his heartbeat slow.
I feel my own pulse adjust to match it. Nox presses a soft kiss against the top of my head.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“A little sore,” I admit honestly. “But in a good way, if that makes sense?”
“Clara, I—”
He pauses to swallow and I practically feel his heart thud against my cheek as it leaps inside his chest. I arch my head back, resting my chin on his sternum as I search his eyes.
I’m pretty sure I know exactly what’s hiding in those stormy emerald depths.
I feel the words heavy on my tongue, too—the ones we’ve been very careful not to say over email, the ones I’ve been feeling for a while, the ones I’m still afraid to voice aloud.
They’re too raw, my last line of defense, the final stone in the wall I’ve built up around my heart.
He’s torn all the rest down. But here, in his arms, so exposed after what we just shared, I’m not sure I’m ready for more upheaval.
He still needs to leave for LA in two days.
I still need to go home. We still have forty-one days until forever, and I think I need those forty-one days to prepare myself for the shift from me to we.
Once those words are said, there’s no going back.
Nox inhales, readying himself.
“Are you hungry?” I intercept. “You must be starving after a day of plane food. I’m a little hungry, too. Should we order something?”
He blinks for a moment, staring at me as though he knows exactly what I’m doing.
But then he relents. The frown between his brows smooths out, and I know I made the right choice.
Because if he was really ready for whatever is hovering in the back of his mind, he would never let me stop him so easily.
“I thought room service was lame?” A wry smile twists his lips. “What about the museums? The churches? The restaurants!?”
He’s calling me out for my texts about Budapest.
“I’ve already been here for two weeks.” I grin back and shrug. “I saw them.”
He snorts and hugs me closer, a smug glint in his eyes. “Hotel life isn’t so bad, is it?”
“I’m beginning to see its advantages.”
Nox reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the room service menu. “What do you want?”
I pick out one meal like a normal human being. Nox orders three. While he’s on the phone, I press my lips to his smooth chest. He arches a brow, saying everything with a look.
What are you doing?
I feel the corners of my mouth twist as I slide another inch lower and kiss him again, raising my own brows.
What does it look like I’m doing?
He swallows and adjusts on the bed, his voice growing more and more strained the lower and lower I dip. It’s intoxicating to watch him writhe, to get a sense of my own power, a power I’ve never felt comfortable enough to tap into until now.
He forcibly hangs up, not fully in control of his body. “Food will be here in half an hour.”
I tilt my head, glancing up from where I’m crouched above the apex of his thighs. “Whatever will we do until then?”
He grins and folds his hands behind his head, lounging there like the arrogant ass he sometimes is. But I don’t mind. One lick is all it takes to call his bluff. One pump and he’s already cursing my name.
“Fuck, Clara.”
A haughty thrill zips down my sternum. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this push and pull between us. I want to play this game forever. And someday—someday soon—I’ll find the strength to say it.