Sweat pools between us and his breathing and my breathing, it merges into one. His hands and my hands combine as we float toward that same big one, roaring toward us.
I falter first, biting down on my lip. He grunts, jaw tensing, eyes closed as if fighting against the most pleasurable pain. The wave rolls over me, like that day in the ocean. It’s all-consuming, wild, dangerous and for a moment I think I’m lost, that I’ll never emerge, but then I hear him, hear my name fall from his lips, see his jaw slacken and his hips slow but the thrusts deepen. I crumble on top of him and he holds me tight, hands in my hair, breath in my ear, and I feel it in every speck of my body when he comes, rumbling like a wave beating against the shore.
We settle, hearts beating against one another, and I roll to the side, nestling under his arm. I’m sticky, hot, and my pulse thunders, but I don’t move. I don’t speak. I don’t dare miss a moment of this moment.
Nick kissesme on my forehead and pulls me in close, covering me like a blanket.
“Hey,” he says, running his fingers down my arm.
“Hi.” I kiss his chest, thinking about how nice this is. How peaceful. That is, until a horn blares from outside, making me jump. Fuck. “What time is it?”
He checks his phone. “Seven-fifty-eight.”
“Fuck.”
His eyebrows raise at my language, but I don’t care. I’m already stumbling out of the bed, too frazzled to worry about my nakedness. I search for my clothes—any clothes.
“What are you doing?” he asks, watching me.
“That’s my taxi. I’ve got to get to the airport.”
Nick doesn’t move, he’s sprawled out on the bed, not even trying to hide the tenting of the sheets between his legs. My eyes slide toward it—him, and I blush. “Are you just going to lie there?”
He shrugs. “I don’t have to be at the airport.”
The horn blares again. I race down the hall, and bang on the window, waving to the driver. He gives me the thumbs up. The last thing I need is a bunch of angry neighbors pissed about the cab.
Again I race around my bedroom, running in and out of my attached bathroom, throwing everything I can into my toiletry bag. Fuck, fuck, shit. I was supposed to do all this the night before. You know, when I was screwing Nick.
I glance over at him again, eyes trailing over the way his tanned skin contrasts against my crisp, white sheets. The way the V of his hip highlights the scattering of hair under his belly button. I sigh at myself and catch his eye, which leads me to notice the smirk tugging at his mouth.
“What?” I ask, shoving my headphones and charger into my bag.
“You’re cute when you’re all frazzled.”
“You could help me, you know, instead of lying in the bed all sex-god-like.”
“I think I helped you last night.” He wrinkles his nose. “You had a lot of pent-up stress.”
I stop and narrow my eyes, again that smirk is too much. Too there, and I finally ask, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Why do you think they sent me?”
There’s no doubt, not one single doubt who the “they” is he’s referring to.
“They knew? They sent you to have sex with me?
Nick shrugs his big, dumb, wide shoulders again before saying, “Everyone has a gift, Summer. I’m just really good at being persuasive.”
His eyes hold a challenge, one that despite the taxi idling at the curb, I can’t pass up. “Oh really? Are you persuasive or your cock?”
Horn honks. 8:05. My phone buzzes. Irene texting—my reminder.
“Does it matter?”
His cock, barely hidden beneath the sheet, seems to know the answer. God, everyone other than me probably knows the answer. Without another word I walk back down the hall and get the driver’s attention. This time I wave him on. To leave, because there’s no way I’m walking away from Nick naked in my bed. Not his body, not his face, not his being. Because he ties me back to the others and there’s no chance in hell I’m leaving them, either. Not yet. Not before I get the chance to see them again and figure out where this can go.
I walk back into the room and dig out the plane tickets before crawling back in the bed. I’m greeted by Nick’s hard body and warm lips.
