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It dawns on me then that we’ve never been fully naked with one another. Every time we’ve had sex, or been intimate, it’s been rushed and desperate in the heat of the moment. We’ve torn at each other's clothes, barely having enough time to free ourselves before frantically connecting.
This is the same, and yet wholly different.
He’s different.
And maybe, maybe I am too.
“Fuck,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to mine. His thick swallow is audible before he speaks. “Christ, Eve. Tonight was—” He breaks off, shuddering when my fingers reach the soft strands of his hair.
“Hard,” I finish, nodding against him. “I know.” And it was. But hard is an understatement.
His eyes meet mine and though his body is still tense, his muscles taut with an emotion I can’t place, his gaze is begging me to look deeper, to understand.
“Are you okay?” I murmur, my brows furrowing as he presses a soft kiss to the corner of my lips. It’s gentle, but firm. It’s Isaac, and somehow, not. I reach up, trying to connect our mouths, but he pulls away until I flop back down onto my pillow.
He chuckles softly, the sound both mocking and primal, causing my thighs to tighten around his hips. His lips ghost over mine as his hands glide up my body and beneath my shirt. Gently, his thumbs brush over my hard nipples, sending shivers down my spine.
“No,” he whispers. “I’m not.”
“What can I do?” I ask, the words nothing but a breathy moan as he pinches the tight bud roughly.
My back arches when he does it again, but all too soon, he stops, releasing my nipple. I freeze, confusion washing away some of the lust consuming me. He pinches my other nipple, twisting it until I gasp.
“Please,” I beg. For what, I don’t know. More? Everything?
He bites my jaw. “Ask me again.”
Desire, pain, and confusion swirl inside me, making it difficult to process his words. He switches to the other nipple again and tugs it, forcing the skin of my breast to pull tight.
Clarity washes over me with the sting. “What can I do?”
His cock is hard between us and his hips roll, teasing me, taunting me. He flicks my nipple one last time and leans back onto his knees. His eyes are deep pools of obsidian as he stares down at me, his pulsing length gripped tightly in his hand.
“You know what I want, temptress whore.”
I swallow, my eyes devouring every inch of his naked form as my nerves hum to life. His body isn’t massively stacked like some men I know, or cut like Roman’s.
He has a runner’s body—narrow and fit, muscular without being too much. His stomach is flat, the outline of his abs slightly visible in the dim light. His Adonis belt is prominent, as is the dark dusting of hair that leads down to his perfect, curved cock.
I lick my lips and my thighs twitch as my pussy grows needy. His knees keep me in place and a whimper leaves me. The sound turns to a cry as his hand comes down roughly on my outer thigh, nowhere close to where I really need him.
“What did I just say?” he grits out, tightening his grip on his cock until the tip turns a deep shade of red. I bite my lip at the sight. It looks painful.
My need for him morphs into something else as worry settles in for who might hear us. I’m not stupid. I know our situation isn’t normal. I know what people would think if they knew. I know what Roman probably thinks. He’d said as much.
Whore.
Slut.
Following in my mother’s footsteps.
That comment hurt the worst.
A hand comes down on my thigh again, this time harder, but in the same spot. I choke out a sound somewhere between a moan and a cry, and my eyes snap to Isaac’s. His brow flicks up with a silent question, with an expectation for me to follow his lead. With a deep breath, I shove everything outside this room away.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but us.
I force my needy body to relax into the bed. My eyes flutter and my chest heaves as I give him what he desires so much. What I desire.
