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I swallow hard. For some reason, her point hits me with more force than it should. I blink a few times, shaking my head. “I’m the one who helps fix people’s problems. I don’t need help. I give it.” The words ring hollow, even to me. Maybe two years ago, that was true. Two years ago, that was me. But I’ve been running from that side of myself lately, haven’t I? I’ve been the guy who withdraws from everything.
“You just need to let someone in.”
I can feel a touch of truth to her words, but I’m too stubborn to relent. I shake my head. “I’d rather deal with it on my own.”
“Too bad, tough guy,” she says, smiling a little now as she tilts her head to find my eyes again. “You spilled enough beans that I’m on your case, now. So I’m going to keep being here for you until you get it through your thick head that you’ll have to open up with me. I promise I won’t change my number again.”
I close my eyes, mostly because there’s so much empathy and care in her expression that it’s making something in my chest hurt. “I don’t want to talk right now.”
“We don’t have to talk,” she says.
Now my eyes shoot open. I narrow them. “What do you mean?”
She licks her lips. “Maybe you need a little release… Maybe I could help with that.”
Those calming lines she has been rubbing on my arms drift downward and her hands find my waist. She steps even closer until her small body is against mine. The pressure of her against me is the best fucking medicine on Earth.
I close my eyes and let it flood me with relief. All the tension in my body feels like it’s melting away in warm waves. “Where?” I ask.
“Chef’s choice,” she says, words muffled because her face is against my chest.
“The cabin. Your bed.”
“Okay,” she says quietly, fingertips fiddling with the buttons on my shirt.
Everything is a blur after that. I halfway carry her down the darkened street until we’re back at the rental and I’m kicking Mia’s bedroom door shut.
I’m pulling off my clothes and she’s a step ahead of me, already on the bed as she’s lifting her hips and yanking her jeans and panties down. I watch her, drinking in the sight as I strip out of my tie and belt.
Unwelcome thoughts swirl in my head, but the moment my bare flesh meets hers, it all goes numb.
I kiss her softly and my calloused hands brush her soft skin, relishing the curves of her body.
“You are fucking incredible,” I say.
“I’m just laying here,” she says, laughing.
“I wouldn’t mind watching you ride me,” I say, whispering the words into her ear.
“I like the weight of you on top of me,” she counters.
I press myself forward slightly, parting her legs until I can feel the warmth of her against me. I breathe out hard in her ear, then nip her with my teeth, smiling. “What if I’d like the weight of you on top of me?”
Her response is a playful whisper. “Then I would advise you to work on your word choice.”
“You are perfect,” I say, kissing down her neck. “You’re so damn perfect it pisses me off.”
“And you’re… close to perfect.” She means it as another playful jab, I think, but the note of truth behind it makes me stop for a heartbeat–the truth that always seems to hang between us is right there in the daylight for a painful second. Close to perfect.
She feels it too, but she cups the back of my neck and pulls me into her, pressing her hips up against me until I’m too distracted to dwell on it.
“Fuck me, Nolan,” she says. “I want to feel you. All of you.”
And now I can’t even remember what I was worrying about a second ago.
I bury my face between her legs, savoring the way she squirms and breathes with pleasure. I’m gripping her ass as she bucks against me, an orgasm already ripping through her.
“Oh, God,” she cries out. She meets my eyes, chews her lip, then looks down between my legs. I don’t need any more invitation than that. I roll on my back, threading my hands behind my head at the top of the bed and waiting–watching.
