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The soft glow of the fountains catches his face, illuminating his strong features.
“If only things weren’t so complicated,” I murmur.
“They don’t have to be.”
“You have no idea how much I want to believe that. You’re the only person who can make me lose sight of everything else.”
He strokes a thumb across my knuckles on the table top. “I’d really like to get the bill.”
I feel my pupils dilate, my eyelids get heavier. I cross my legs tighter and lick my lips as I nod.
Clark settles the bill and we make our way out to a cab. He takes my hand, which makes me falter in my stride, but I relax into his grip and move closer to him. It’s only one night. One more night. A last goodbye.
We sit in the back of the cab, and I can’t speak for him, but my hormones are out in force, battering my sex into submission. I’m aching to feel him, as if it’s been much longer than three days since he took me all night. Something about breaking the law, wanting each other but being forced to hide it, has my temperature rising.
He subtly adjusts his jeans and I smirk when he catches me looking.
“Fucking Middle East,” he mumbles.
I glance at the driver’s rear-view mirror. He’s oblivious to the tension in the back of his cab, or if he isn’t, he doesn’t let it show. When we get to the hotel, Clark holds open the door for me, his hand grazing the small of my back as he helps me out of the cab.
He takes my hand again and leads me to his hotel room in silence. There’s nothing more to say. Right now, I’m not even sure I could form a sentence. Desire has killed my mind and senses. Although I’ve retained enough comprehension to know that’s probably a good thing.
I feel like a teenager with a crush. The kind that makes you feel sick when you see the guy, the kind that stops you from eating or wanting to hang out with friends. The kind of crush that makes you doodle his name all over your school books and get terrible grades because you want to be with the hottest boy in the school so much it’s all you can think about. It’s suffocating.
In this moment, Clark Layton is the hottest guy in class, and he’s everywhere, intoxicating me, making me forget how to do the most basic of things, like breathe and walk.
He holds open the door to his room, and I step inside. I don’t have time to remember how to inhale and exhale because he rams me against the wall, his pelvis pushing his erection into my stomach, his mouth consuming mine. I let my clutch fall to the floor, and he takes my hands above my head, fusing our bodies together.
“Christ, I’ve wanted to do that all day.”
Holding my wrists with one hand, he runs the other up my leg, lifting my thigh to his hip. There are so many things wrong with this, so many reasons we shouldn’t be doing this.
“Stop.” He nibbles my lobe. “Over.” His breath leaves a trail down my neck. “Thinking.” He glides his tongue along my collarbone.
I give in to desperation, moving my hands to fist in his hair and tilting my head, exposing myself to him fully.
He teases, sucks and licks my shoulder as he draws the thin strap of my dress down my arm. I can’t tell him how much I want him. I won’t tell him how many nights I spent wondering why we ended. Praying that he’d change his mind. But in the way he looks at me now, he tells me all I need to know. He’s in this. And right now, that’s as much as I can handle. I give myself over to him. To this. To us. “Kiss me,” I beg.
He rests his brow on mine. His hooded eyes are hypnotic. Then he gives me what I want, simultaneously lifting my other thigh and carrying me through the lounge of his suite into the bedroom.
He lowers me in front of the queen bed and turns me away from him. His lips start at my nape, blowing air gently down my spine, a sensation that shoots to the depths of me, making my muscles tense, drenching my cleft. He unzips my dress and pushes it down my arms, letting it pool around my stilettos.
“I’ll never get enough of tasting you. Feeling you.”
He has to get enough. He has to walk away. Because I don’t have the strength to tell him no.
“Clark…” I should tell him this is it. We can’t go beyond tonight. But the words don’t come.
“Do you remember how good we are together?”
“Yes.” The word is weak, breathless. “Please don’t try to convince me... ” Convince me of what? That we should be together?
I leave the words hanging in the air as he runs his hands greedily over my skin then wraps a hand around my hair. He pulls my head to one side and sucks my neck as his fingers roam my stomach. His touch is like champagne, sheer indulgence. It goes straight to my head and blurs my thoughts.
His next words are so quiet they’re almost lost in the sound of our panting. “This isn’t goodbye.”
It has to be.
