Page 51 of Yours to Keep

When he slid a finger into me, swirling his thumb around my clit, I was done. The orgasm sped through me like a race car on a track, making me clamp a hand over my mouth to muffle my screams. He held me up, not stopping or letting his rhythm falter until I sagged against him.

But when I kissed him again, I felt him starting to retreat and my fingers curled around his shoulders. “No, Sullivan. What are you doing?”

He looked up at me from hooded eyes. “I’m not sure.”

“I want you,” I murmured, pulling him closer and pushing myself up on shaky legs to brush my lips against his. “Don’t even ask me if I’m sure right now, because I absolutely am.”

He kissed me again, deep and desperate, his palm heavy and warm on the side of my neck, but as I dropped my hands to his belt, he broke away from me. “Fuck, you have no idea how much it pains me to say this, but I don’t have a condom on me, Bree.”

“What?” I blinked hard, certain I’d hallucinated. “You don’t…”

Even in the dark, I saw him grimace. “I didn’t bring a date, remember?”

“And you don’t carry an emergency stash in your wallet?” I didn’t even care that he could absolutely hear the incredulous, exasperated disappointment in my voice. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve been busy,” he protested on another groan, bending over to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “It’s okay. We’ll go back to the party⁠—”

“No.” I pushed my fingers into his waistband, not about to be deterred again. “There are things we can do that we don’t need a condom for, and you’re not leaving this closet like… that.”

As I started undoing his belt, I heard his labored breathing hitch, and I turned us then so that he was against the wall instead. He didn’t even pretend to argue or not go along with it, just dropping his head against the wall and watching me as I undid his fly.

In the dark, I couldn’t see very much, but I looked into his eyes as I dropped to my knees in front of him, wishing I could see his face right now. I couldn’t but still kept my eyes on him as I lifted his pants and his underwear over his raging erection.

I wrapped my fingers around the thick base of him, wishing even more that I could see what he looked like in all his glory. He was so hard that I really could hang a flag on it tonight, but instead, I licked a line around his tip and shivered when he let out a soft, but needy moan.

Deep down, I cursed the gods of prophylactics, but I was also pretty happy with just getting to do this for him. There wasn’t a single part of Sullivan Crowne I didn’t like right now, and this was no exception.

20

SULLIVAN

We didn’t separate when we came out of the closet. Instead of dampening the sexual tension between us, that little tryst only seemed to have heightened it. All I could think about was burying myself inside her and actually taking my time.

Any reasonable adult would have created space or made a joke, anything to cool things down. Instead, I stroked my finger along the side of her hand as I held it, the air between us feeling and hotter and tighter, like all we’d done was crack a door instead of releasing pressure.

Bree glanced up at me, her lips flushed and her eyes dark. “We’re terrible.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Let’s be more terrible later.”

I just needed a bed instead of a closet next time. Bree’s lips formed a smile, drawing my attention to them and how swollen they were from our kisses. “Wow. Romance really is dead, huh? Is that it? Just, let’s be more terrible later?”

“What do you want, a written and embossed invitation? We already had some of those for today and look how that turned out.”

She laughed and I had the violent urge to pull her right back into that closet and finish what we’d started. To forget the ballroom, the DJ, and my sister’s almost-wedding turned liberation tour.

Why the hell didn’t I bring a condom?

I always had one somewhere—my wallet, my jacket pocket—but I hadn’t been thinking about hooking up at my sister’s wedding reception. I’d been thinking about making sure she didn’t implode.

Now, my body was still keyed up and furious about it, and I had to go back to the fucking ballroom. When we walked in, Bree nodded toward the bar. “Do you want a drink?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice clipped in my irritation with myself. “Several.”

She sent me a knowing smile, the look in her eyes still fucking filthy. Or maybe I was projecting my feelings onto her. Either way, we grabbed some champagne and found Liana at a table near the dance floor. She was barefoot now, her shoes abandoned and a fresh bottle of champagne clutched in her hand like a trophy.

“There you are,” she said brightly. “I was just telling Mrs. Feldman that today is officially my villain origin story.”

Mrs. Feldman blinked. “I thought it was very empowering.”