Page 61 of His Innocent Seduction

His hands roam down my body, curving around my arse, and I groan as he rubs the flesh there, massaging me, his touch so intimate, so expert.

He’s hard inside me still, his own release something he’s determined to hold off on. He is a master at this.

‘I chose an excellent teacher,’ I say with a smile when my breathing has slowed.

‘You’re an eager pupil.’ He kisses my shoulder. His eyes hold mine and something passes between us. Something I don’t understand.

‘Stay the night,’ he says again, the challenge, demand, filling me up. My orgasm is exploding within me.

I call his name into the night sky and I hear myself saying, ‘Yes,’ over and over again, agreeing to whatever he’s suggesting, agreeing to anything. I am lost, in that moment. I am his.

* * *

I can’t sleep. Somewhere around four, I wake up with a start, the way I haven’t since I was a boy and I used to jolt out of bed, my heart racing, my body covered in sweat, my adrenal response off the charts, terrified my father has killed my mother, terrified I’ve missed it, that I haven’t been able to save her.

I wake with a start, my pulse slamming through me, sweat on my brow, my heart racing, my stomach in knots. It’s a disorientating awakening and it takes me several seconds to recognise the anchor points of my life—my bedroom, my artwork on the walls, my duvet and the woman asleep beside me, her hair pulled over one shoulder, her face so restful, her body still, the opposite to mine, which is pounding as though with a thousand volts of live electricity.

Even when I reorient myself, the sense of panic doesn’t go anywhere. It’s sticky inside me, coating my veins and thickening my blood. My heart won’t slow down.

Pushing the sheets off me, I get out of bed and move silently from the bedroom. Having convinced Millie to stay, it wouldn’t exactly be chivalrous to stomp about and wake her up at this ungodly hour.

In the kitchen, I flick the coffee machine to life, watching as dark liquid flows into a small cup, a golden crema forming on top, the smell infiltrating the kitchen.

My heart is still slamming against my ribs. What the fuck?

I take a breath, in and out, slowly, reminding myself of the ways I used to calm down when I was a kid and this kind of panic attack would ambush me at any time without warning. Palms pressed flat to the cool marble bench top, I stare at the coffee but no longer see it.

The hammering of my heart is demanding my attention.

Each beat a ticking of the clock, a pounding of time racing past me, whooshing us towards an inevitable point.

She’s leaving soon.

My gut twists. Every fibre of my being, each tiny cell in my body, rejects the idea. Soon Millie’s going to be getting on a flight, going to Paris, walking away from me, and it’s like a stone boulder slamming into my side.

I can’t let her go. I can’t.

Not yet. No. Not ever. I have no idea how but in these few weeks something’s happened to me and I want... I don’t know. I just know I want Millie.

I grab the coffee and lift it to my lips, drinking it gratefully. Okay, she can’t go. That’s obvious. So? What do I do? How do I get her to stay? And then what?

Clarity recedes.

Then what?

What do I offer her? For how long? How long does this last? I can’t get enough of her right now, but in a month? A year? Can I ask her to put her plans on hold until whatever this is has burned out?

Would she want to?

I need fresh air. I push the sliding glass doors open, stepping out onto the balcony, trying to see a future for myself and Millie—trying to see a future with myself and anyone. I’ve never imagined I would want this.

One-night stands are my thing. I like them. I love the lack of commitment. The absolute certainty that there are no expectations of me. So what if I ask Millie to stay, and tell her what? That I like her? That I want more from her than just sex?

That I fucking love her?

Just like that, it’s a lightning bolt from overhead, slashing through me.

I love her? Do I? What does that even mean?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com