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“I love you so damn much, Elliot,” he said in a shaky voice. “Make me yours. Please. Don’t pull out this time. I want all of you.”
And so I gave him everything.
Chapter forty-two
Mike
Iwokeuptothe sound of Elliot’s slow, steady breathing, his body warm and heavy beside mine.
The cabin was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering in through the curtains. The air smelled like sweat, like sex, likeus.
Our skin was still slick with oil, remnants of the absolute debauchery we had gotten into hours earlier. I shifted, feeling the faint stickiness of dried cum on my stomach and across my chest.
A grin spread across my lips.
Holy shit.
I had never had sex like that before. I’d never seen it in porn. Hell, I’d never dreamed it could be that hot.
Elliot and I had always had chemistry—God, we had chemistry—but tonight had been something else. Something all-consuming, raw, and intimate.
And we had said the words.
Thosewords.
I love you.
I felt my heart stutter just thinking about it.
The words had slipped out between kisses, between thrusts, between the desperate need to be closer.
I had meant them. With every fiber of my being, I had meant them.
But had he?
Sex made men say stupid things, things they later regretted. Would he regret speaking those sacred words aloud? To me?
My goofy grin faltered slightly as I turned my head to look at him.
Elliot lay on his stomach.
We would likely need to burn the bedding.
He had one arm stretched beneath his pillow, his face turned toward me. His lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones. His lips were slightly parted. He looked soft like this. Vulnerable.
My chest ached.
God, I wanted this. I wanted him.
But would he still want me when he woke?
Had it been the moment talking? The intensity of what we were doing, the way we had lost ourselves in each other?
Would he pull away? Would he take it back?
I swallowed hard, pushing that thought aside.
Elliot wasn’t the kind of man who said things he didn’t mean.