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He remembers.
“Where are the guys?” I whisper.
“I told them to go home.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re scared of thunder,” he repeats.
My throat prickles with emotion, and I cling to his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me from crumbling.
The same warm smile I remember from our first night together washes over me.
You’re safe with me.
I flinch as lightning flashes.
“Breathe,” he instructs, running his finger over my collarbone, along my shoulders, and down my arms, repeating the motion until my breathing evens.
Our eyes lock, and the familiar pull snaps between us.
“Did you touch yourself?” he asks, leaning closer and pressing his lips to my neck.
He’s distracting me, and I grab onto it.
My heart stops listening to my head as I grip his hair at the back of his scalp, trembling with the feel of it through my fingers and his lips below my ear.
I throw my head back and whimper, too focused on him to notice anything else.
“No,” I say, my voice husky as I dig my fingers deeper.
He hisses and repays me by nipping my skin with his teeth. “Why?”
“Because I wanted you to touch me. But we made rules. We agreed to one night.” My voice is so low, I can’t even convince myself.
“I broke it already. I’ve thought about being inside you every night since you were in my bed. It’s driving me crazy knowing you are sleeping right down the hall.” His thumb laces over my lower lip. “Fuck the rules.”
The thread snaps.
We’re pulling each other’s clothes off in the next breath.
I’m in his arms, and he’s carrying me to the bed in the breath after that.
On my knees, he keeps me upright with his arm around my waist. He pulls my hair back, peppering kisses along my skin from behind. But he never touches my lips.
My addiction to him is too much.
I need a fix, and he’s the only thing to satisfy it.
His gruff voice vibrates against my ear when he orders, “Hands on the headboard.”
I look at him over my shoulder, cheeks blushing. “Why?”
“Because I intend on fucking you, so I suggest you hold on to something.” His fingers spread over my stomach, sliding between my legs. “Now, hands on the headboard, or I’ll tie you to it.”
As much as I think I’d enjoy it, my body is demanding we don’t waste more time.
Biting down on my lip, I do as he asks.
