Page 34 of Offside Angle

Lena studies my face for a moment, like she’s trying to read between the lines. Whatever she sees there makes her expression soften. “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Let’s go.”

I stand up with her in my arms for a second before setting her down gently. I don’t look back toward the crowd as we head for the exit. I don’t let myself scan for Santi one last time.

I just take her hand and lead us out of the club, telling myself that once we’re back at my place, everything will settle.

It has to.

The second we step inside my house, I lock the door behind us and turn to her.

I don’t say anything.

I back her up against the nearest wall and kiss her. My hands slide down to grip her thighs as I lift her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist without hesitation. I carry her straight to the kitchen and set her down on the counter, stepping between her legs so I can press closer.

Lena makes a soft sound against my mouth and kisses me back just as fiercely. Her hands are already tugging at the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head before tossing it somewhere behind me. Her palms slide over my chest and shoulders, nails lightly scratching down my skin as she pulls me in tighter.

I kiss down her neck, breathing her in, trying to lose myself in the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way she’s responding to me like she always does. My hands slide up her thighs, pushing her dress higher as I kiss along her collarbone.

She arches into me, fingers threading into my hair, and for a moment I let myself get lost in it. In her. In the heat building between us.

But even as I press my mouth to her skin and feel her hands roaming over my bare back, one thought keeps flickering at the edges of my mind.

Both things can be true.

I push it away and kiss her harder, gripping her hips and pulling her to the very edge of the counter so there’s nothing between us but the thin layers of clothing still left.

Lena’s hands are everywhere — tugging at my hair, scraping down my back, fumbling with the button of my jeans until she finally gets them open. I push her dress up higher around her waist and hook my fingers into her panties, yanking them to the side without bothering to take them off completely. There’s nothing slow or careful about it. We’re both too worked up, too desperate.

The second I push inside her, a sharp breath leaves me.

Fuck.

It feels like I can finally breathe again.

Lena gasps against my mouth, her legs tightening around my hips as I sink into her in one deep thrust. I don’t give either of us time to adjust. My hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her in place on the counter as I fuck into her with a kind of urgency I can’t quite explain.

She doesn’t complain.

If anything, she moans louder, her nails digging into my shoulders as she meets every thrust. Her head tips back against the cabinet and I take the opportunity to kiss and bite at her neck, losing myself in the feeling of her around me.

I can feel her getting closer already, her body tightening around me as she gasps my name. I keep the pace brutal, chasing that feeling, chasing the quiet in my head that only seems to come when I’m buried inside her like this.

It doesn’t take long.

Lena’s moans get louder, her body tightening around me as she gets closer. I keep thrusting into her, deep and rough, one hand gripping her hip while the other slides between us to rub tight circles over her clit. Her head falls back against the cabinet and she cries out my name as she comes around me.

“Mats—!”

The sound of it, the way her body pulses and squeezes me, pushes me right over the edge with her. I bury my face in her neck and groan as I come, hips stuttering as I empty inside her. My legs feel shaky. Hers are trembling around my waist.

For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen is our heavy breathing.

I stay buried inside her, forehead resting against her shoulder as we both come down. My arms are wrapped tightly around her, holding her close while we catch our breath.

Eventually, I lift my head and look at her.

She’s flushed, hair messy, lips swollen from kissing, and she looks so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.

“You’re perfect,” I murmur. I press a slow kiss to her lips, then another to her jaw. “So fucking perfect.”