Page 45 of The Encore’s Crown

“Keep teasing me and I’ll—”

I move my hand exactly the way she’s been begging me, thrusting two fingers inside her and pressing my palm against her most sensitive place. Her threat collapses into a full-body shudder, followed by a gasp. I rock my hand gently at first, fingers curling inside her, pressure with each thrust, but her desire takes over. Suddenly she’s pulling me in, tensing, moving against me, chasing every way I touch her. She presses her forehead hard against my neck, saying my name again and again, each repetition losing another layer of control. Each version of it in her mouth is softer, needier, and it sets me on fire.

I’m painfully hard, every part of me straining toward her, but I don’t ask for my own relief. This is about her. I keep one arm locked around her, holding her through every trembling breath. My mouth moves over her temple, her cheek, the corner of her lips. Her body tightens, pulsing against my fingers and I can tell she's close. Her whole body tenses.

“Give me that fucking sound again,” I whisper. “Come for me.”

She trembles against me, the release hitting her in a series of beautiful, helpless waves. Her fingers dig into my skin, her body drawing tight before finally giving way. The sound she makes is my name mixed with noises that never become words. I hold her through all of it, every tremor and broken breath. Every moment it takes for the tension to drain from her body. Then she collapses against me, all that fierce restless energy finally quiet. Her forehead rests beneath my chin. I can feel her heartbeat beginning to slow where her chest presses against mine, fingers loosening her grip, nails finally freeing the skin they dug into. I press a kiss to her hair.

For a long time, neither of us moves. The room grows lighter around us, grey turning slowly toward blue. The edges of furniture emerging from the dark. Her body stays curled around mine, warm and trusting. I should feel relieved that I held the line. Instead, every part of me aches with what we didn’t do.

What I wanted to do.

I wait until her breathing is slow and even before easing her back onto the pillow. She makes a small sound of protest, reaching for me without opening her eyes. I pull the blanket over her shoulders and brush her hair away from her face. Her eyes flutter open. For one awful second, she looks frightened, like she thinks I’m already gone.

“Are you leaving?” she whispers.

The question in her mouth nearly breaks me.

“No, I’m staying until you fall asleep. Again.”

Her hand finds mine beneath the blanket. She laces our fingers together and pulls them against her chest. Within minutes, she's asleep. I lie there listening to her breathe. My body still burns, my shoulder stings where she bit me, and the skin along my neck feels marked by every kiss she left there.

None of it matters as much as the weight of her hand around mine. I stay until her grip loosens, until I know she's deep enough asleep that moving won’t wake her. Then I ease my fingers from hers and sit at the edge of the bed.

My watch reads five. Plenty of time to leave before anyone sees me, to make this look innocent. To slip back into my room like I left hours ago. I look back at her, curled into the space I left behind, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.

As the door clicks shut behind me, I wonder how I'm supposed to pretend nothing happened when the sound of her breaking apart around my name is all I can hear.

Chapter 20

Red

Kiri

The hallway is empty when I slip out of her room. The hotel's silent except for the soft click of the door closing behind me and a couple giggling as they shuffle down the corridor, probably on their way to do what I wish I was right now. I sigh, keeping my hand on the handle for a second, making sure the motorized latch catches. Then I just stand here like an idiot. Her voice is still in my head. Breathy and broken, each version more desperate than the last. I scrub a hand over my face and force myself to move.

My room's only four doors down but it feels like crossing an entire fucking city. The carpet catches under the drag of my reluctant feet and my shirt hangs open from her hands trying to peel it off. There’s a dull sting at my shoulder where she bit me, and every step makes the fabric brush over the marks she left against my neck. Evidence everywhere. I'm a walking crime scene of everything she did and everything I didn't. My dick strains against my pants, the growing ache intensifying. Of course it would be, I basically cock-blocked myself and every inch of me is pissed about it.

By the time I reach my door, I’m hard enough that getting the key card out of my pocket becomes an exercise in humiliation. I throw it against the panel too fast and it flashes red.

“Come on.”

I try again.

Red.

The memory hits without warning, Natalia pressed against me, breathless and impatient, saying I'm driving her crazy.

I’m trying to come.

A laugh catches in my throat, then the light finally flashes green. I shove inside and close the door behind me harder than I mean to. The room is dark, that pale light of early morning starting to creep around the edges of the curtains. The untouched bed looks at me like it's accusing me of something. I lean back against the door and close my eyes. She's there, behind my eyes. Her hair spread across the pillow, lips parted. The flush moving over her skin as her whole body tightened before giving in, the weak grip of her fingers afterward.

Are you leaving?

My head knocks against the door. I can't decide if I feel guilty or just stupid. I kept her safe all night. I didn’t take advantage of a woman who was drunk, grieving, and barely able to stand. I didn’t let what I wanted become more important than what she might wake up regretting. The correct decision, the responsible decision. So why does one part of me feel like I just walked away from the only thing I’ve wanted in years and the other part is rolling its eyes because I gave in at all?

If I’d come straight back to my room, none of this would be lodged under my skin. I wouldn’t be standing here harder than I’ve ever been in my fucking life, every drop of blood apparently abandoning my brain for one increasingly inconvenient destination. I look down at myself, at the body that refuses to listen to reason. I'd be lying if I said it's the only part of me still screaming for her.