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“Yes…” I thrust harder, and her lips part and her eyes close as she comes. I thrust slowly through her climax, watching it sweep over and loving the thought that I’ve given her such pleasure, then rise up onto my hands and let my body do what it wants, hips pumping fast, until heat rushes up through me and every muscle in my body tightens. I come inside her, jubilantly, exultantly, and her name filters from my lips as I drift slowly back down to earth.
I nuzzle the place where her neck meets her shoulder for a moment, reveling in the feeling of just being inside her, of being joined to her in the most intimate way I can. Then, as carefully as I can, I withdraw.
“Knees up.”
She draws her legs up, and I pull her as close as I can and wrap my arms around her.
For a long while, we just look at each other. I brush her hair back off her face, and trace a finger over her nose, her cheekbones, and across her eyebrows. She eventually lowers her knees and turns toward me, and we exchange a long, leisurely kiss.
“Can I stay?” she whispers. “For a while?”
“As long as you like. Are you hungry?”
“I’m ravenous, actually.”
“I’ll make us some dinner in a minute.”
She nods. “Hux?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For not turning me away.”
I kiss her nose. “I’ll always be here for you.”
Her brow furrows, and her eyes glisten.
At the beginning, she told herself I’d lose interest once we slept together, and convinced herself I was a playboy who would break her heart again if she gave it to me. But I think, maybe, she’s starting to accept how serious my feelings are for her. And that’s why she’s conflicted. Because now she’s giving up the love of a lifetime for her career, and that is not an easy decision.
Her eyes are filled with pain, still shining with tears. I know I’m forcing her to make a decision, to realize how she feels about me. It’s not my way. I don’t want anyone to be in pain because of me. But I want her so much, and I don’t know what else to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Elizabeth
I eventually fall asleep, and when I finally awake, the room is filled with bright sunshine. I roll onto my back and stretch out an arm, and discover Nymph’s curly fur rather than the muscular body I’d been hoping to find. Outside, in the kitchen, comes the sounds of someone preparing coffee.
Rising, I dress quickly, then click my fingers at Nymph, and she jumps off the bed.
I go out into the living room and cross to the breakfast bar. He looks over from where he’s making the coffee. He’s wearing his track pants and a fresh tee, and his hair is all ruffled.
“Morning,” he says, and smiles.
“Hey. I’ll… um… just take Nymph out.”
“Sure. Take the keys with you—they’re by the door.”
I nod, collect the keys, put my shoes on, and take Nymph down with me to the garden. While she sniffs around and does her business, I sit on the wall where I took the photo last night, my stomach a jumble of emotions. Overriding them all, though, is the undeniable joy I feel at being here, with Huxley. Whatever happens, I’m so glad I came here last night.
I go back upstairs, and let myself into his apartment.
“Toast?” he asks as I go over to the breakfast bar.
“No thanks, coffee’s fine.”
