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His restraint unraveled.
“This is me trying,” she said. “I can’t help it. When I’m near you, I get like this.”
For a moment, his mind placed him back on the beach. Back to holding someone’s hand and talking and getting the chance to know them deeper than what they felt like when he was balls deep inside their flesh.
“Fuck me, Joel Lattimore.” She continued to stroke, squeezing his head until she teased out a drop of fluid. “Please, make love to me. I want you. I need you.”
“Is that all you want?”
Was he the idiot in thinking that them sleeping together meant more than it actually did? For all he knew, she could be seeing someone else.
Then again, this was Sydney.
If she did start seeing someone new, someone she was serious about, she would end things with him. If there was one thing he knew, it was that, in spite of the divorce, she still cared enough about him not to turn the remaining shreds of his heart into ash.
She rose onto her knees, pulled down his waistband, and took him into her mouth. Eventually, the warm, tight movements of her tongue and hollowed cheeks pushed aside his reservations, and he thrust with each bob of her head until they were moving in tandem.
She sucked away his remaining restraint.
He pulled himself from her mouth, and they tore at each other’s clothes until they were both naked, hot skin against hot skin. She didn’t touch him, didn’t caress him the way she usually did.
He ignored it.
She went to ride him, but he flipped her onto her back and entered her, his hips forcing hers down into the mattress. She was still warm around him, still tight, and she felt as good as ever, but something was missing.
He thrust.
She rose to meet each one.
He drove deeper and harder until she could do nothing but sink her fingernails into the muscles in his shoulders, latch her legs around his waist, and hold on.
He waited for her to moan his name.
She didn’t.
Grunting, he hooked one of her legs over his arm, bending her knee back to her chest, angling her so the head of his shaft tapped and stroked the places inside her that were the most sensitive. He knew everything about this body, which was why the realization that something had changed increased with each stroke.
“I’m coming.” She sank her fingers into the muscles in his ass, pulling him even deeper. “Baby, I’m coming.”
A loud, gasping moan tore from her throat, and he hoped everyone else had fucked themselves to sleep. They all knew he and Sydney were hooking up, but he liked to fool himself into thinking they were hiding it well.
Her body contracted around him in waves, and not once did she stroke him how she used to, languishing in the feel of his skin underneath her fingertips while she climaxed.
Not once did their lips touch.
And not once did she say his name.
“Joel,” she looked down, “you didn’t come.”
“I’m fine.” He pulled out and rose onto his knees, the blood slowly returning to the rest of his body.
She climbed onto hers and faced him, her head slightly angled to look up into his face. Then she took his hands, tears collecting along the rims of her eyelids, but he pulled away.
Only a few minutes ago, he’d longed for her touch.
Now, it felt foreign.
“I love you,” she said. “Tell me you love me.”
