“Fuck Logan, that feels so good,” she cries out.
I put my mouth on her, and she cries out. Her back lifts off the bed, her hand finds my hair, and grips hard. I slide my tongue against her in long, slow strokes, tasting her, learning her again.
She's wet and warm and moves against my mouth in a rhythm that tells me exactly what she needs. I give it to her. The reality is better than every memory I've carried around for a decade.
I slide two fingers inside her and curl them. Her whole body shudders. I work my mouth and my fingers together, building a rhythm, listening to her breathing get faster and shorter, her sounds climbing higher. Her thighs clamp around my head. Her hand is pulling my hair so hard it hurts and tears a groan deep from my chest.
“Don't stop,” she says. “Logan, don't stop, I'm?—”
She comes with her back arched off the bed. Her body shakes against my mouth, and I hold her through it, my hands on herhips, my lips pressed against her, until the tremors slow and her grip loosens and she sinks into the mattress, breathing hard.
I kiss my way back up her body. She pulls me down and kisses me with my mouth still wet from her. The kiss is filthy and tender at the same time. Her hands go to my belt, unbuckling it, unzipping my jeans, pushing them down my hips. I kick them off along with my boxers. Her hand wraps around my cock, and I drop my forehead against hers and exhale hard.
“God, Jasmine.”
“I want you inside me.”
I reach for my jeans on the floor and pull a condom from my wallet. She takes it from my hand and rolls it on. The feel of her fingers on me makes my jaw clench.
I settle between her legs. She opens for me, and I push inside her slowly, my eyes on her face. Her eyes flutter closed, her lips part, her hands grip my shoulders. She's tight and warm, more perfect than I remember. I press deeper, and she wraps her legs around my waist and pulls me all the way in.
“You okay?” I ask, breathing hard.
“I'm perfect. Move.”
I move slowly at first. Long strokes, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in until her nails dig into my shoulders. Her hips rise to meet mine and we find a rhythm that feels as natural as the first time, two teenagers on a twin bed in Long Island who somehow got it right.
“Faster,” she says against my ear.
I give it to her faster. I grip the headboard with one hand, her hip with the other, and drive into her. She meets every thrust. The bed hits the wall. She's loud, louder than she was back then, and the sounds she's making are unraveling me.
I fall on top of her, wanting to be closer. “You feel incredible,” I say into her neck.
“So do you.”
I shift the angle and hit the spot that makes her gasp. Her nails rake down my back. That's going to leave marks, but I want them. I want evidence that she's real and she's here.
“Look at me,” I say.
She opens her eyes. We lock gazes. I'm moving inside her, and she's holding my face with both hands, and for a few seconds, nothing else exists.
“I love you,” I say.
“I love you,” she says back. Her voice breaks, and her body tightens around me, and she comes again, harder this time. Her whole body clenches and shakes, her mouth open against my shoulder.
The feeling of her coming pulls me over the edge. I bury my face in her neck and let go, moaning her name. My arms give out, and I collapse against her, breathing hard, my face in her hair, her heart pounding against my chest.
We lie there tangled together, breathing. The room is quiet except for our breathing and the distant sound of the city outside her window.
“Stay tonight,” she says.
“I'm not going anywhere.” I lift my head. Her hair is a mess across the pillow. She has never been more beautiful than she is right now. “I'm staying. Tonight and every night you'll have me.”
She pulls me down and kisses me softly. I roll to the side and pull her against my chest. Her head fits into the curve of my shoulder the same way it did when we were teenagers, like it was made for that spot.
“Does your mom hate me?” I ask.
Jasmine is quiet for a second, her fingers drawing circles on my chest. “She doesn't hate you. She doesn't like you either, but mostly it's your family she has a problem with.”
