Page 69

I laugh. “We both work out, we should be good.”

“Trust me?” he asks, fingers toying with the bottom edge of my panties until they dip underneath, brushing along the seam between my cheeks. A rush of heat pools between my legs.

I nod.

“Then say it, darlin’, tell me what you want.”

What do I want? One thing. “Fuck me, Ax. Hard. Like you mean it.”

A switch flips: gone is the man tip-toeing around my feelings, around my fears. The following kiss is rough and his body commanding as he nudges me to my back. Splayed before him, he stares at me for a long moment, before he works his way downmy body. His mouth is blistering–taunting–as he works those quick hands to remove the last scraps of my clothing.

He’s worshipful. Reverent. Kissing my belly and between my thighs. Roughly, he spreads my legs and his tongue swipes over my clit, that mustache tickling. I cry out, pulling him back up. “No?” he asks, lips shiny.

“Not now.” I want him near me, on me, in me. I like the weight of his body over mine; strong, safe, protective. Using my feet, I push his boxers down his hips, removing the last barrier between us. His erection is thick, and I reach for it, running my hand down the length. “I want you in me when I come.”

He shudders, growling at my touch.

“It’s been a while,” he tells me, thrusting into my hand. “If we’re doing this, it’s gotta be soon.”

“I’m ready,” I say, kissing him again.

“Please tell me you have condoms.” His jaw tightens. “Because your roommate's boyfriend took mine.”

I wrinkle my nose, not wanting to know, and reach for the drawer of the bedside table. The soup sloshes, cold now, coating my hand. Axel’s hand closes over mine, bringing it to his mouth to lick off the juice before tearing into the package.

He never stops kissing or touching me, even as he preps himself. The other guys I’ve been with only focused on themselves. There was never any tenderness. I was just an object to use. A plaything to get them off. With Axel, it’s the opposite. This moment is about the two of us, every touch a give and take.

“You ready?” he asks, running his fingers over the wet heat between my legs. He presses one into me, then another, pumping in slowly, stretching me out. My hips rise to meet him. It’s not enough. I want more. “Yeah, fuck, your pussy is soaked.”

With his arms on either side of me, he looks down at me, holding my eyes. He presses against my entrance, but hesitates.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my body feeling so brittle, like it’s going to break if he doesn’t get inside me and hold me together.

He pushes the hair off my forehead. “You’re beautiful, Nadia.”

The first time we were together it was just another fuck-up. A way to get lost, to run from my problems by creating bigger ones. This time, when he enters me, sheathing himself deep, I feel it in my bones. My blood. My heart.

“Good?” he asks, the muscles in his throat tense as he holds himself back.

“Perfect.” I lift my hips, urging him to move, wanting him as deep as he can go. He gives me what I want, thrusting hard, letting loose. I cry out and his forehead drops to mine, sweaty and warm. The tight band inside of me coils tighter and tighter, our bodies in sync, until I snap first, the orgasm unfurling inside, spreading a pulsating warmth across my nerves.

My body tightens around him and he groans, fingers digging into the meat of my hip as he stutters to a halt, spilling inside. I take him, the hard thrust of his hips, the way he buries his cock between my legs and his face in my neck. I feel him–every slick inch of skin, every heavy breath as he empties himself into me.

My nails dig into his back. I can’t get him close enough.

Intertwined, our chests rise and fall, as our bodies float back to earth. His fingers link with mine, the YOLO face up.

For the first time in my life, I know one thing for certain: doing this with Axel, letting him in, allowing him to love me? It definitely wasn’t a fuck-up.

16

Axel

Just because I’mcaught in that blissed-out state between orgasm and sleep doesn’t mean I can’t feel Nadia trying to ease out of my grip and off the bed.

“Nuh-uh,” I mumble, face pressed into her neck, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Bathroom?”