Page 77 of One Midnight Kiss

His fingers trailed over my clit, sending shockwaves through me. It was overwhelming, the sensation of being completely at his mercy while simultaneously feeling so powerful, so cherished.

Fox’s movements were both deliberate and intuitive, as if he had known my body as long as he had known his own. His other hand, the one not pinning me to the slick tiles, worked with a kind of skilled urgency that brought me closer to orgasm.

“I need a condom,” he said against my ear. “Please tell me you have one.”

I groaned, my body craving the release. “No.”

“Shit. Okay. That’s fine. I’ll finish you.”

“Or, we could… you know. You’re the first man I’ve been with since my husband.”

He went completely still behind me. “You’re on birth control?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got a clean bill of health.”

“Okay,” I said. “Please. I need you.”

Fox hesitated for a moment, his breath tickling my neck. Then, as if making up his mind, he released my wrist gently and shifted slightly.

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me back against him. I bent forward, putting both hands on the shower wall.

Fox’s body pressed firmly against mine, the steely length of him nudging at my entrance as he positioned himself. The tip touched me, a teasing promise before he entered. Gasps escaped my lips, sharp and needy.

The fit was tight and oh so perfect. Each thrust pushed me against the cool tile wall, the contrast of temperatures driving my senses wild.

Fox’s hand returned to my hair, pulling it gently so that my head tilted back toward him, exposing my throat. His lips and teeth marked their path with a possessive urgency that made my pulse soar. The raw energy between us in the cramped space just made it all even better.

It wasn’t long before we were falling into sweet ecstasy together. The timing was perfect. The water turned lukewarm. I knew it would turn ice cold in a few seconds.

“We better get out before we freeze,” I said.

He chuckled and hopped out behind me. I handed him a towel before reaching for my own. We dressed without saying a word, but it wasn’t awkward. It just kind of felt normal.

An hour later, he was still at my place. Fox settled in like he owned the joint. It was Saturday night, and we were both dressed in loungewear and barefoot. Fox insisted on putting my books on the new shelf. He had taken it upon himself to alphabetize them, which would have annoyed me if it wasn’t such a domestic sight. He had this way of making himself comfortable anywhere, like he had always belonged. Maybe that was why I hadn’t told him to leave yet.

I was in the kitchen, attempting to throw dinner together. It wasn’t going well. The chicken had burned and now the smell of charred yardbird filled the air. I had not cooked like this in a long time, and it was like muscle memory pulling me back. I used to do this every night. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

Andrew.

I could picture him sitting at the table, glass of wine in hand, smiling at me like I was his entire world. I loved cooking dinner for him. I used to think about being a stay-at-home mom. I would make cookies with the kids and have dinner on the table for him when he got home.

I glanced down at my left hand, at the thin, fake ring I had put on weeks ago. My stomach twisted. It was so similar to the ring Andrew had given me. It was almost freakishly identical.

“Natalia.” Fox’s voice broke through my thoughts. He was standing right beside me. I hadn’t even noticed him come into the kitchen. “I guess you like it extra crispy.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

I didn’t want to tell him. I never wanted to talk about it. But I couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “I was just thinking about the last time I cooked like this,” I said. “For Andrew.”

“Oh. Did you burn that chicken too? Because that’s no reason to break up with someone.”

“No, although I wish I had burned the whole damn house down.” I hadn’t told anyone this story before. I had buried it so deep inside that even thinking about it felt like reopening an old wound. But for some reason, standing there with Fox, it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt like letting go.

“There was a dinner party,” I began, my voice thin and brittle. “I invited everyone over. All of our friends. It was a nice get-together, or at least I thought it was. I spent the whole day cooking, trying to make everything perfect.”