Page 57 of Forever Then

“I love fashion in the opposite way. The weeds of the industry—following trends, shopping designers to stock a store—that’s the part I enjoy. I get to love both this way, I guess.” Gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder, she contemplates her words. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It does.”

“Unless Gene ever wants to hire me, then I might reconsider.”

“Be honest, Fish. How much did you pester him about the wild horses?”

Her brows knit together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” I poke her in the ribs and the spatula she was holding drops to the counter as she hikes up a knee to block my reach.

“Connor, stop!” She breaks into a fit of giggles.

I don’t stop as I continue to poke and prod with my fingers, coaxing her where I want her to go until she ends up back in my arms. The air settles on our satisfied sighs as our hearts and our bodies melt into the embrace.

Ever so slightly, we begin to sway from side to side.

My person, barefoot and dancing with me in my kitchen—I recognize the moment for what it is. Something I’ve craved. Something I’ve never had with anyone else…before her .

Her exposed shoulder with that peek of black lace teases me. I pepper soft kisses there and then lift to meet her eyes.

The kiss begins slow and unhurried, soft hums of contentment echoed between us as we languidly explore each other’s mouths, bodies swaying.

My hand cradles the back of her head while hers fists the back of my shirt.

Before I know it, we’re pushing harder, breaths heavy between every pull of our lips as the kiss deepens and I press her back into the counter.

Without breaking the kiss, I turn off the stove with one hand, her body tensing in anticipation, while my other hand moves under the hem of her— my —shirt. I caress the bare skin of her stomach and her mouth opens wide, a plea for more. We fall into each other, head first.

I will never tire of kissing this woman. Euphoric and claiming, I’m completely addicted.

My palms run the bare skin of her lower back, up and down her spine. Underneath her shirt, I squeeze one breast in my hand and she rakes her nails across my shoulders, a soft moan pressed against my lips. I drag a hand up her thigh and she hikes her leg up to my waist.

Slowly, I work my thumb behind the fabric of her underwear from under the hem of her shorts. Her head falls back on a stilted breath when I sweep over her already soaked entrance.

“I wanna use my mouth.” I plunge my head toward her chest as my hand underneath her shirt peels the lace bra down to cup her bare breast. I suck the hardened nipple through the fabric and she arches into me, her palm slamming down, fingers clenched around the edge of the counter. “Can I use my mouth?”

Her head lolls forward as I run my thumb between her legs again. She whimpers, vigorously nodding in approval.

I hoist her up by her thighs and turn us to the dining area.

I drop her on the table and shove the chairs aside as she sweeps the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder out of the way.

Items clattering to the ground, we giggle as our lips find each other again.

I yank her forward, drawing her to the edge of the table.

My shirt hangs long on her, almost completely covering the tiny shorts underneath.

When my hands move up to grasp her waistband, Gretchen leans back on her palms at the ready.

“Hips up,” I command, my hooded eyes locked on hers.

I swipe her shorts and underwear over the curve of her ass and down her legs in one fell swoop, tossing them aside.

Her legs dangle off the edge of the table, the hem of my shirt resting at the apex of her thighs, still covering the area I plan to devour in a matter of seconds.

Knowing that I’m the lucky bastard she let strip her from the waist down, makes me want to own her.

To make it so good for her that she could never imagine this with anyone else.

Nerves flicker across Gretchen’s features. I stand between her legs and take her face in my hands. Like my life depends on it, I kiss her fiercely, stealing the breath from her lungs.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me,” I say against her mouth. “Now, lay down.”

With her back flat on the table, I run my palms over her, beginning at her shoulders, then over her breasts and stomach until they land on her thighs, her body arching into my touch every inch of the way.

I drop to my knees, taking in the sight of her bare for the first time. Biting back my groan, I strain against my zipper, as I trail hot, wet kisses up the insides of her thighs.

“Connor, please.”

My girl aches for my touch and I intend to give her everything she needs. “You ready for me?”

She hums and I drag a finger up her center, my shoulders pushing her hips wider.

Her moan bounces off the ceiling and I wrap my arms under her legs to anchor her. I move in slow—one long, lazy swipe of my tongue and her back bows off the table as shivers of pleasure ripple through her.

“Oh my God,” she breathes.

Her breaths quake on her tongue and I’m a man starved. With every move of my mouth over her, she writhes into me. When her body rocks back, I yank her closer. When she presses into my mouth, I push into her harder.

I groan against her, the vibrations moving up and down her core, encouraging her, and she doesn’t hesitate to take and take and take. “Take what you need, baby.”

I sense it the second before her orgasm hits.

One hand lands with a smack on the table as her other fists my hair.

Her thighs quiver in my grasp, but I don’t relent.

Licking, sucking and flicking, my tongue works her over, her breaths coming in rapid pants.

Her cries pitch higher, louder as she shouts my name, riding wave after wave of pleasure to its complete end.

Body slack on the table, her chest rises and falls in a heavy rhythm. I rise to my feet and meet her gaze. I pull her to a seated position and she launches herself at me, kissing me hard, paying no mind to the taste of herself coating my lips and tongue.

Her hands drop to the waist of my jeans. “Gretch, stop. You don’t have to?—”

“I want to touch you.” She looks at me like if she doesn’t touch me now, she might combust and, dammit , I want her to. But I need her to know that I don’t expect anything in return for pleasuring her.

“Please? I need to know that I can make you feel good, Connor.” I’m standing between her legs, my shirt barely covering the best thing I ever tasted in my life, and my zipper clings on for dear life. I want her hands on me so bad. “I want to.”

I let out a low curse that sounds more like a groan. “I won’t last long.”

“I don’t care,” she rushes out as she yanks the button of my jeans and pulls down the zipper.

Her hand slides inside my boxer briefs and my forehead falls to hers as she wraps it around me.

It’s an awkward angle, but she works her hand up and down as I thrust into her fist in tandem.

My breaths stutter, jaw clenching. One tiny whimper from her mouth and my hand is back between her legs where I find her eager and ready again.

I’m close, so I waste no time and plunge two fingers deep inside her. She cries out, her body fully surrendering to me once more. I match the rhythm of my fingers to my hips as I chase my orgasm, hers within reach right along with me.

“Ahh! I’m gonna come again!”

“I’m so close. Come with me.”

Temples fused together, our breaths come hot and heavy on each other’s skin. I curse, unintelligible, as sensations collide inside me—her fist and my hips driving me toward my release, the slick sounds of my fingers moving in and out, the taste of her still on my tongue.

“Gretch, that feels so good!” I say, voice like gravel now as I climb.

This woman owns me. Every look, every kiss, every touch, every piece of me belongs to her.

Our cries echo, loud enough to reach the hallway but it only spurs me on. I want faster, louder, harder. My fingers move roughly inside of her, our movements growing sloppy, as we close in on that climax together.

Gretchen’s mouth falls open on a silent cry, breath halted in her throat. “That’s it, come again for me.”

Her voice breaks, wild and free as she lets go, my fingers plunging and swirling.

I grunt through three more rough thrusts as her fist tightens around me and I follow her over the edge, my groan vibrating against her cheek.

I buck my hips into her until the bitter end, pulsing as the euphoria sweeps me under.

We stay there, her hand wrapped around me, my fingers still inside her as we ride out the aftershocks.

It has never been like this before and I wasn’t even inside of her.

I knew being with Gretchen would be different.

Special. But this? How will we ever get anything done? She’s all I want to do now…ever.

She bites her lip and pulls her hand free as I do the same. “I guess we’re supposed to eat fajitas now, like we didn’t just traumatize this table,” she says as she adjusts her glasses.

I kiss her long and slow until our bodies sink into the cradle of each other, completely spent. “We can traumatize every surface of this apartment if you want to.” I wink, planting a final kiss on the tip of her nose. “I have to go clean up. And put these boxers in the laundry.”

I retreat to the bathroom to the sounds of her laughter. Gretchen Fisher just made me come in my pants.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” My words land softly in the warm silence between us as I stroke the arm Gretchen has draped across my ribs.

After dinner, we cuddled on the couch to watch Pitch Perfect , singing along to every song and laughing way too hard at all of the most quotable one-liners.

Keeping to the silly terms of our thermostat agreement, before we climbed in bed, she cranked it down to sixty-eight degrees right before she threw on one of my hoodies, donned a pair of fuzzy socks—a look I’m unexpectedly feral for—and crawled under the covers.

When I followed a few minutes later, she draped her body around me like a sloth on a branch in an effort to keep warm.

Five minutes and an I told you so later, shared body warmth worked its magic and Gretchen peeled the hoodie off, leaving her in a tank top and shorts, her feet still clad in fuzzy socks woven between my legs.

“A little,” she replies. “It helps knowing you’ll be there, though.”

Then I’ll be there, all the time, everywhere, for all the things, I want to say.

She doesn’t need me when she tells her parents and Drew about her family in Arizona.

She’s strong and brave all on her own. Even still, any chance I get to be the person by her side, you won’t find me anywhere else. Not anymore.

“Don’t forget the rules when we’re in front of Mom, Dad and Drew, old man.”

I assure her I’ll be on my best behavior, but make a mental note to text Drew in the morning about meeting up for drinks next week.

I’ve made excuses, kept secrets and locked my feelings away long enough.

The right time to tell him would have been three years ago, but I can’t rewrite the past no matter how much I wish I could.

It’s time for me to tell my best friend that I’m hopelessly in love with his sister.