Chapter Twenty-Five
David
“You drive me fucking crazy, linda.”
“Yeah, well,” she says with shaky breath, “join the club.”
She throws it at me like a weapon.
And that’s good.
Because now she gets to see what that means. Not hear it. Not question it. Feel it.
My grip tightens on her.
Not enough to hurt.
Enough to hold.
Enough to make it clear she’s not slipping out of this conversation, not retreating behind that sharp mouth and those defenses she throws up when she’s scared.
“You think I say things I don’t mean?” I ask, voice low, rough, threaded tight with something darker now.
She opens her mouth.
I don’t let her speak.
Not this time.
I move. Fast. Decisive.
My hand slides up, fingers closing around her jaw, tilting her face exactly where I want it.
“Look at me,” I order.
She does.
And there it is—that fire. That doubt. That pull she’s trying like hell to fight.
I lean in, close enough that she has to feel my breath, has to feel what she’s doing to me without me saying another word.
“You don’t get to pretend this isn’t happening,” I murmur. “Not after last night.”
Her pulse jumps under my thumb.
I feel it.
Track it.
Own it.
“And not after the way you’re looking at me right now.”
That hits.
I see it land.
Her hands come up to my chest again—not pushing, not this time. She’s clutching at me, anchoring herself. Like she needs something solid to hold onto.
Good. Because I’m it for her.
She’s already halfway there.
I close the distance.
Take her mouth again.
Not controlled this time. Not careful.
This is a claiming kiss. Pure possession and need.
My lips lock onto hers like I’ve already decided this ends one way, and it’s not with distance.
She reacts immediately—fuck yes, she does—her breath breaking, her body leaning into mine like she forgot she was supposed to fight me on this.
That sound she makes—low. Unsteady.
Mine.
It snaps whatever restraint I had left.
“Shh, Sunshine. Need you to stay quiet. Keep those desperate little sounds for me, got it?” I whisper and she nods, biting her lip as my fingers find her panties beneath the hem of her skirt.
I deepen the kiss, angle her exactly where I want her, press her back against the marble until she has no choice but to feel me there, feel how hard this hits, how real it is.
“Fuck, you’re soaked. You feel that?” I murmur against her mouth, not giving her space to answer, not giving her time to think.
I slide her panties over, running my fingers through her slick in slow, deliberate swipes, mapping her again like I’m reminding myself she’s real and not something I imagined.
“You think I walked away this morning because I was done?” I ask, voice rough, edged now. “Because I got what I wanted?”
Her breath stutters.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
Let her see it.
All of it.
The need.
The frustration.
The fact that I’m standing here barely holding it together.
“I left because if I woke you up, I wouldn’t have walked out that door at all.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Her grip tightens on me.
That’s all the answer I need.
My thumb drags across her lip, slow, deliberate.
“You want to pretend this is a mistake?” I go on. “Say it.”
I lean in again, voice dropping lower.
“Say you don’t want this.”
She doesn’t.
“I want this, David. I want you,” she whispers, her pupils blown as I press two digits inside her sopping wet heat.
Her sheath clenches around me and my fingers pump in and out while I find her tight little nubbin with my thumb.
She’s close. I know she is.
I see it in the way her body reacts to me.
The way she leans in instead of pulling away.
The way she’s breathing like this is already too much and not enough at the same time.
She’s so tight and wet. So hot. So mine.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “That’s it. Let me in, linda.”
My other hand slides back to her waist, pulling her closer, locking her there against me. My fingers work in and out of her pussy faster now, and fuck, but I’m addicted to this woman.
To the feel of her. The scent. The sounds she makes.
“Take my cock out, Sunshine. Now,” I command.
And she does it. She reaches between us and pulls my zipper down, reaching inside my briefs, she tugs them down and pulls my dick out.
I’m so fucking hard for her. Precum is already dripping from the tip.
“Need you, David, please,” she begs, stroking my cock faster.
But I don’t want to nut in her hand. Nah. I want in her hot little body.
“Put me right there at your sweet little slit, Sunshine. That’s it,” I tell her, sliding my fingers out, but I never stop rubbing her clit.
She puts the head of my cock up against her opening, and I push in—just the tip. And I slow my fingers down, waiting for her eyes to meet mine.
They do.
And she looks so fucking hot.
Her mouth is open. Eyes glazed.
“No more pretending,” I growl, quieter now—but sharper.
Final.
And then—I move.
I fill her in one hard thrust and press my thumb against her clit—and Hilary explodes all around me.
There is no hesitation.
No space.
No doubt.
My mouth finds hers, my hands already setting the pace, the direction—and everything after that is instinct, heat, and the kind of control I’ve been fighting since the second I met her.
I knew the moment I saw this woman there’d be no going back to that shadow of a life I’d been leading. And as I feel her pulsing all around me, I know there’s no turning back.
The feel of her soft body clenching around mine is too much and not enough—I pound into her frantic, like a goddamn rutting beast.
She clutches at me, her mouth opens and she closes it over my shoulder, my shirt muffling the sounds of her moans.
I grind into her, and fuck, she starts coming again. And I swear she pulls my orgasm straight from my balls with the way her pussy tightens, squeezing me so goddamn good.
I don’t move.
Not right away.
I stay there, holding her, breathing her in like I need to make sure she’s real and not something my head made up.
Her arms are still around me. Legs wrapped tight.
Like she’s not ready to let go either.
Good.
Because neither am I.
My forehead drops to her shoulder, my chest still rising too fast, heart pounding like I just ran a marathon instead of having hot sex with my woman in a public place.
“I got you,” I mutter, more to myself than anything.
I tighten my arms around her for a second longer than necessary.
Grounding.
Anchoring.
Letting the moment settle instead of rushing past it like I would with anyone else.
Christ. That thought alone tells me everything.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
Her cheeks are flushed.
Hair a mess.
Eyes soft and a little dazed, like she’s still catching up to what just happened.
She looks so— fuck.
She looks like mine.
The word hits again right in the chest. Harder this time.
I love this woman. I am in love with her.
I don’t say it out loud.
Not yet. But I don’t fight it either.
“Stay right there,” I tell her, voice low, steadier now.
I move carefully, grabbing tissues, taking care of the small things—making sure she’s comfortable, making sure she’s okay.
Not rushed or careless.
She watches me like she doesn’t quite know what to make of that part. Like she expected me to bolt.
Not stay and do this. Not care for her—but the thing is, I do. I really care.
I adjust her dress, smooth it down, make sure everything’s right before helping her off the counter.
My hands linger at her waist a second longer than they should.
Then I step back, forcing space between us.
Because if I don’t?
I’m dragging her right back into it.
And I don’t have that kind of time.
Not right now.
“Hey,” I say, catching her chin lightly, making sure she’s looking at me. “We’re not done. You hear me?”
Her brows pull together, still a little out of it.
“I’ve gotta work,” I go on. “Bella’s vocals need to get locked in. And then—”
I hesitate.
I don’t like saying it.
“Then, I’ve gotta head out of town for a few days.”
There it is.
The part that’s going to piss her off.
Or worse.
Make her pull back.
“But I’m coming back, Hilary,” I add immediately, voice sharpening with certainty. “You believe me?”
She swallows.
“I—I want to,” she admits softly.
That hits deeper than it should.
“I’ll prove it,” I tell her.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Because I will.
One way or another.
I step back, giving her space, waiting for her to move, to leave—
But she doesn’t.
She just stands there, shifting on her feet, cheeks going pink in a way that’s completely at odds with what we just did.
“What?” I ask, confused.
She gestures toward the door.
“Um, you can go now.”
I blink.
“Me? Not us? Why?”
For a second I think maybe she’s ashamed to step out with me, but her blush deepens. And I cock my head and wait for an explanation.
“I have to use the, uh, facilities,” she says, like the word itself might explode.
It takes me a second.
Then it hits.
I grin.
“You gotta pee? You won’t pee in front of me?”
Her eyes go wide.
“Oh my God, David. Go!”
She actually stomps her foot.
And I lose it.
A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it.
Real.
Unfiltered.
God, she’s—she’s just something else.
I step back in, quick, stealing one more kiss—first her nose, then her mouth, softer this time.
“Yeah, okay. You take care of that,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ll wait outside.”
Then I finally let her go.
And the second I step out into that hallway, the door closing quietly behind me—that pull hits again.
Stronger.
Heavier.
Like leaving her in there is the wrong move.
Like walking away—even for a few minutes—is already a mistake.
I drag a hand through my hair, exhale hard, and push it down.
Focus.
Work.
Handle what needs handling.
Then I go back to Hammonton. To her. To home.
Because one thing is crystal clear now—this?
Whatever this is?
It’s just the beginning.