Page 60 of Jessica, Not Her Real Name

She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “Yes.”

“Good.”

He crossed the space between them, gripped the back of her head with one hand, and kissed her. Hard. She could feel his stubble grazing her cheek, the edge of his teeth against her lips.

He broke it off but continued to grip the back of her head, his hand wrist deep in her hair. He said in a low, urgent tone, right against her mouth, “Fuck, I missed you.”

Both his hands cradled the sides of her head as he turned her face up to his and kissed her again. Softer this time, but no less intense, his tongue caressing hers until she moaned against his mouth.

His hands slid down her hair to run down her shoulders and across her back. His fingers found the zip at the back of her gown and gripped it. He pulled away from the kiss to look at her, a question in his eyes.

She nodded.

He unzipped her dress. Pushed it down, and it slid off her in a sigh of silk and tulle.

There was a long pause as his eyes took her in. He looked adorably dismayed. Like a kid on Christmas morning who’d just unwrapped his present, only to find it wasn’t what he wanted. He looked back up at her and gave his head a little shake as if to say, what the fuck?

“It’s called shapewear,” she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

He stepped back and stared at it in horror. “How do I get it off you?”

She laughed at the urgency in his tone. “Daniel, it’s not a bomb vest.”

“Fucking looks like one,” he grumbled.

“It’s not that difficult. Look, you just unhook it here…and then tug this bit here off…and then yank this part down…”

He shook his head, looked very grumpy. “Fuck this. I’m gonna go get some scissors.”

She got it off without him having to resort to any drastic action. He watched her, arms crossed. “How do you go to the bathroom in all this?”

“Not easily.”

“Baby, what do you need shapewear for, anyway? Your shape is perfect.”

She kicked the last of it away. “Not according to my mother.”

She was now naked, and his expression was one of pure male lust. He was reaching for her even before he’d closed the gap between them.

In a sudden movement, he cupped her butt with both hands and lifted her, then carried her backwards until she was pressed against his wardrobe door. He kept her pinned there with just his hips, his forearms bracing against the wood on either side of her head. The only other thing pinning her in place was his mouth. He groaned, and she felt it in the back of her throat.

She clung to him, arms and legs, like a koala to a tree. No way was she coming down. He straightened, dropping one arm to rather expertly unbutton his jeans with one hand. Just as she felt him pressing against her, he broke off the kiss. Maintaining eye contact with her, he guided himself inside her. Her body resisted him at first, then relented with a sharp thrill.

They both drew in quick breaths, exhaling into each other’s mouths. He held her gaze the whole time, and it was so intimate. She couldn’t imagine being closer to another human being.

“Please don’t ever leave me again,” he whispered.

She pressed her lips to his. “Please don’t ever let me.”

* * *

She trailed her fingers over the words that ran around his collarbone. THE WILL TO LIVE IS THE WILL TO DIE.

“What does it mean?”

Daniel had his arm flung over his eyes. He made a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh, lifted his arm and eyed her. ‘It means the things that people want to stay alive for are the same things that they’d be prepared to die for. Money. Power. Family. It’s, uh, what do you call it?Una paradoja.”

“A paradox?”