Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me closer. “Don’t you even think about stopping now.”
I capture her nipple in my mouth, sucking hard as I slide into her in one smooth thrust, filling her completely. Her gasp is everything.
“God, you feel incredible.” I start moving in slow, controlled strokes that let me feel every inch of her wrapped around me. It’s intense in a way the first time wasn’t. More deliberate. As if we’re taking our time, paying attention to every sensation instead of racing toward the finish.
The thought sends a thread of unease up my spine. I shove it down hard. Different location. That’s all this is.
“Harder,” she whispers, and the need in her voice shoots straight through me. “Please.”
I adjust the angle, thrusting deeper, faster. “Like that?”
“Yes.” She meets me stroke for stroke, her body moving with mine as if we’ve done this a hundred times instead of three times in the hotel room that night as it blended into morning. “Just like that.”
I capture her mouth again, swallowing her moans, and I can taste the chocolate from dessert. Her tongue slides against mine, and I’m drowning in sensory overload in the best possible way.The tight heat of her body, the clench of her thighs, the way she moans my name like a prayer.
When I break the kiss to trail my mouth down her neck, I catch sight of us in the mirror on her dresser. Her dark hair spread across the pillow, my body covering hers, the dim glow from the light on the nightstand falling across our skin.
It looks like something out of a movie. Something romantic and permanent and nothing like what this is supposed to be.
I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the physical. The way her body cinches around me. The way my balls draw up tight. The way she rolls her hips to meet my thrusts. The undeniable pressure building at the base of my spine.
“You feel so good,” I growl against her. It’s true but also safe. Physical appreciation. Nothing deeper.
Her body tightens, every muscle tensing as her breath comes faster. “Close. So close.”
I shift my weight to one elbow and slide my other hand between us, finding her clit with practiced precision. I circle it once, twice, matching the rhythm of my thrusts.
She comes with my name on her lips, her whole body convulsing, and the sensation of her pulsing around me drags me over the edge. I bury my face in her neck as I follow, groaning through my release. And for one unguarded moment, I let myself feel all of it—the pleasure, the connection, the rightness of being here with her.
Before reality crashes back.
I collapse beside her, grabbing a tissue to dispose of the condom quickly before pulling her into my arms. It’s automatic, instinctive, and I realize too late I’ve just made things more intimate instead of less.
She fits perfectly against my side, her head on my chest, one arm draped across my ribs. I’m hyperaware of every point ofcontact. The weight of her. The warmth. The way our breathing has fallen into sync.
I stare up at her ceiling, focusing on the small water stain in the corner, ignoring the way my brain wants to catalog everything about this moment as if to preserve it. To capture the fleeting sensations and every inch of the woman at my side with routines and holiday rituals and town roots that run deep.
Everything I don’t have.
Everything I’ve never wanted.
“That was…” she starts then trails off.
“Yeah,” I agree because I don’t know how to finish that sentence either. “It was.”
The silence stretches. Outside, the wind howls, and a tree branch scrapes against the building, dragging back and forth. The storm I thought was bad before is now at full force.
She glances toward the window, and I follow her gaze. Snow is coming down so thick nothing is visible save for the flakes blowing horizontally in the wind.
“You might be stuck here for a while,” she murmurs. “Looks like they were right about that nor’easter.”
The words hit hard.Stuck? Here? With her?
“When’s your flight?” she asks, her voice carefully neutral.
“Day after tomorrow.”
She nods against my chest but says nothing.
