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He blinks and stares at me.
“Circumstances aren’t keeping us apart. You are. You have this idea that you aren’t good enough for me. You always have. And you’re wrong. You put me up on a pedestal and it’s not where I belong. I don’t want to look down on you. I never have. I’m not some dainty woman you need to protect from the things going on in your life. You don’t get to make the decision about what I can and can’t handle. I’m sorry for what you’re going through, but you can’t use it as a cop out when it comes to us. I’m still in love with you. I doubt that will ever go away, but what you do with that is up to you. There’s no more pausing. No more being patient or waiting on things to be the way you think I deserve them to be. You can trust me enough to know I’ll stick with you through the bad stuff, the way I always have, or we can let this be the end. I can be your girl, or I can be your friend. The way Oliver and I are friends.”
The subtext in the last statement isn’t lost on him. Friends don’t climb through the window in the middle of the night. They don’t hold each other in the dark.
“I need another drink,” I exclaim, and snatch my glass off the table. There’s a knot in my throat while I return to the kitchen to pour another cranberry and vodka, but I’m determined not to cry tonight. I’ve said what I need to say, and I meant it.
When I turn around, Alden stands right in front of me. “You can’t be my friend. You’re my world.”
His lips land on mine a bare second before his tongue dives into my mouth. My hands leap to his shirt, grasping it in my fists to pull him closer. I can’t get close enough. Despite my efforts to move on, I missed him so much. There’s never been anyone who can make me feel like this. Like the whole world could dissolve around us and drain away into the universe and it wouldn’t matter. His hand is on the back of my neck, and he slides it up into my hair. The kiss goes on forever, neither of us wanting to break the connection we’ve both craved for too long.
He grips a handful of my hair and tugs, pulling my head back. We’re both breathing hard, the sound filling the silent kitchen. His eyes delve into mine. “Is this what you want?”
“I want you.”
He lowers his head and drags his lips up my neck, over my jaw to my lips. “You have me.”
“Not just in my bed. I want all of you. I want your heart.” My body is screaming for his, but sex isn’t going to solve everything.
“It’s all yours and always was,” he murmurs against my lips, peppering his words with searing kisses. “And every fucking trace of you is mine, Ella.”
The joy and relief of his words is overwhelming, but the feel of his lips on me overrides everything. My hands can’t get enough of him, roaming his body, feeling the warm skin under his shirt while he kisses me until I can’t breathe.
The little rumble in the back of his throat when I cup the bulge in his jeans and squeeze gently triggers something in me. A desperation to draw more of those sounds from him. I want to hear him groan and growl, watch him lose control because of me. Show him I’m not the same little virgin girl he had before.
His hands are perfectly rough from his job, and the sensation they leave behind on my skin while they explore is more sensual than anything I’ve felt before. There’s one thing that I never got to do with him and my mouth waters at the thought. When I unfasten his jeans, he grabs my hand.
“I want you in a bed this time.”
“My room is upstairs.”
Without a word, he leans down and scoops me up over his shoulder. “Alden! I can walk,” I laugh as he charges upstairs.
He reaches up and presses his hand between my legs through my thin sweat pants. “You won’t be able to tomorrow.”
“Fine, but I’m sucking your dick first.”
His groan as he pushes my bedroom door open and places me on the bed is accompanied with a mumble that sounds like “Fucking killing me.”
He hooks his fingers under the waistband of my sweats and panties together, then pulls them off. I get rid of my shirt, and he stands between my legs while I lie back on the bed, my feet on the floor. My skin flushes when he looks down at me. There’s something so intimate about being naked in front of someone who is fully dressed.
“Beautiful. I’ve thought about this for years,” he says, running a teasing finger down one of my thighs and up the other.
I sit up, and free his erection from his jeans and underwear, tugging them down to his thighs. His chest rises and falls in fast jerks. His lips part, and the desperate anticipation in his expression drives my desire to a peak. I’m going to make him come so hard.
He hisses through his teeth when I lean forward and lick around the head. Wrapping my hand around the base snugly, I suck him in. His whole body gives a little jerk. One thing I’ve always heard is that blow jobs are all about enthusiasm and there’s no shortage of that. At this moment there’s nothing I want more than to make him feel good.
With a hum, I take him deeper and deeper. The leisurely pace combined with my stellar—if I do say so myself—deep throating skills have the desired effect. His moans and gasps, broken by occasional words of praise, spur me on.
His hands are in my hair, stroking, but it turns to a grip when I speed up. His hips start jutting forward, and I can feel him fighting the urge to push my head. Without stopping, I put my hand on his and push my head forward, giving him permission.
A curse falls from his lips. He grabs my hair tighter and thrusts into my throat. My hands are on his hips while he fucks my mouth. When his thrusts grow staggered, I take more control, keeping a brutal pace until he barks out my name. His body stills while I swallow what he gives me.
I peek up at him and the sight makes the pulsing between my legs unbearable. His lips are parted, sweat glistening on his face. One last gentle suck throws a full body shiver through him. The vulnerability shimmering in his eyes when he opens them and looks down at me is everything. It takes bare seconds for it to be replaced by heat, and a wicked smile forms on his face.
It screams of a promise to fuck me half to death.
He steps out of his jeans and pulls his shirt off. When I reach to touch his chest, he pulls me to my feet and backs me against the wall.
