He broke the kiss, his heated gaze watching mine for a moment, a silent question there.
As if there was anything I could possibly want more in this moment than him inside me. I gave him the slightest nod.
It was all movement then as he reached for his wallet, dug for the condom, lifted it to nip the corner with his teeth, then grabbed my wrist to move my hand away so he could slide it on.
Finished, he reached down, grabbing me behind the knee on my bad leg, hauling it up, spreading me wide, then stepping closer.
Anticipation sizzled across my nerve endings, my belly flipping, my sex clenching.
He reached between us, gliding himself against me once, twice, three times. Until I was whimpering. Until my hips were writhing.
Only then did he slip down, press, then slam deep inside me.
I wasn’t sure which was louder—my moan or his groan—as he surged deep.
His forehead pressed to mine as he sucked in a deep breath, looking for restraint.
I couldn’t think of anything I wanted less.
I rocked my hips.
I dug my hands into his ass, pulling him against me.
Christopher’s head tilted, watching me for a second before giving up the fight with his self-control.
There was nothing soft or sweet right then, just the clawing need, the desperate search for relief.
His thrusts were hard and deep, getting faster with each moment. My own hips rocked to meet the sensation as the desire swelled, tightened, then released with a long, ragged cry.
“Fuck,” Christopher groaned as I came, fucking me harder and faster. Then his whole body tensed as he slammed deep and came with me.
His forehead pressed down on my shoulder afterward, his breathing as ragged as my own.
As for me, for just a moment, I gave in to the need to cling to him, to hold on tightly because some part of me was afraid that as soon as I let him go, he would put a wall up between us again.
Eventually, his head lifted, his forehead pressing to mine as he took a deep breath, likely ready to say something about how this was a mistake and we couldn’t do it again.
But there was a knock at the door that had us springing apart.
“Shit,” Christopher said, frantically trying to put himself back together.
I reached down with numb hands, pulling my bra, then panties and pants into place. And tried to ignore the way my heart felt like it was deflating.
Christopher grabbed his tie, putting it back on with an efficiency that I would have found impressive if I wasn’t grieving the loss of the closeness.
Finally, he found his jacket and strode toward the front of the store.
Alone, I let out a shaky breath and glanced around.
And that’s when I saw it.
A flash of shiny new metal where it shouldn’t have been.
Sitting behind the sword tip near the feet of an ancient suit of armor that had been in the corner of the room since I bought the place, since no one actually wanted those damn things anymore.
A strange laugh escaped me as I clomped over toward it, leaned down, and grabbed the drive just as Leo and Nero’s voices filled the front of the store—bright and easy, compared to Christopher’s tight, uncomfortable tone.
There was nothing I could do about Christopher and his inner struggles about being with me.
