Page 8 of Not a Friend (Crescent Light #1)

Five Years Ago, December

Did I just… knuckle bump? Jesus fucking Christ.

N ate cupped the sides of my face as he leaned down to kiss me.

Just like the first time on the dance floor, I expected the kiss to go in that hurried, messy way so often reserved for nights like this.

A one-time thing that had no reason to be graceful or pretty.

But he took his time with me as though we’d kissed a thousand times before.

He moved against my mouth with slow, deliberate intensity, gradually parting my lips with his. The whiskey on his tongue tasted sweet as it slipped into my mouth. I couldn’t hold back the soft moan I let out against his lips.

A hand traveled from my cheek to the back of my neck, sweeping my hair behind my shoulder so he could make contact with the skin there.

Tangling the fingers of one hand into my waves at the root, his other hand settled on my back, his thumb pressing and rubbing against my waist. He gave the hair at the base of my neck a slow tug, encouraging me to tilt my head back, exposing my neck to him .

His lips lazily made their way along my jaw, sprinkling kisses under my ear, down the column of my neck where my pulse thrummed, and into the hollow where my shoulder met sensitive skin.

My mind swam with the heady thrill of being touched, and I breathed in the masculine, leather and fabric softener scent of him, unable to resist. He smelled so good .

Fingertips toyed with the opening of my jacket, making to pull it off my shoulders but pausing before they did.

His eyes connected with mine, a silent check-in before he proceeded.

I responded by pulling the jacket off the rest of the way for him and dropping it on the ground, holding his gaze all the while.

The corner of his mouth ticked up as he leaned in for another long kiss, and he closed his hands around mine before taking a step back toward the hall.

Once the door to his bedroom clicked shut, he pulled me close again, inviting me to invade his space and take what I wanted.

His fingers slid beneath the hem of my shirt, sending goosebumps over the soft skin of my tummy as he inched it upward.

I lifted my arms as he pulled it off, then greedily returned the favor.

Taking his shirt off was a little less graceful, considering our height difference, but I savored the view regardless.

Smooth contours of a broad chest dipped into a toned abdomen. I spied a handful of tattoos—one on his chest over his heart, a few others on his arms—but I didn’t slow down to get a good look at them. I wouldn’t have had a chance anyway because his mouth was on mine again, more eager than before.

God, I thought as his warm chest pressed against mine, I’m so touch-starved.

Hungry, I shot my hands to his waistline and tugged on his belt buckle, maneuvering the leather until it pulled free.

He responded in kind, pulling at the button of my jeans and unzipping them.

We only broke away to shimmy out of our jeans awkwardly and amid mildly drunken giggles before we stood upright again.

Nate took a beat to let his eyes wander over my body.

I felt his white-hot gaze as it traveled from my shoulders, down the curve of my breasts, over my soft tummy, around my rounded thighs, and back up again.

My first instinct was to cover my body, but I was distracted by his lips, parted and swollen as he drank me in, and the slight blush along his muscled chest and neck.

He grabbed me and hoisted me up. Shocked as I was at his strength, I wrapped my legs around his waist and hung onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

He undid my bra, letting it fall between our bodies before tossing it to the floor.

His lips were all over my neck, my chest, as he laid me on the bed and moved on top of me.

Trailing down to my now-exposed breasts in open-mouthed kisses, he took his time acquainting himself with each.

He kissed along the soft slopes, tenderly taking each nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue before continuing his torturous movements.

I buried my fingers in his dark hair, trying my damndest not to writhe under him. I failed miserably.

When his lips met mine again, I couldn’t resist any longer.

In any other scenario, I might’ve taken my time and gotten on my knees to tease him with my mouth. In any other scenario, I might’ve wanted him to do the same to me.

But I didn’t just want this. I needed this.

I reached between our bodies to palm the impressive erection straining against his boxer briefs. He sighed deeply against my mouth, a shudder running through him at my touch. Delight bloomed within me at his reaction .

Who was this guy? I couldn’t remember ever feeling a level of desire like this— impatience like this.

There wasn’t a second to spare. I had to know what it felt like to have him buried deep inside me.

I didn’t know when I got so bold, only that I surprised myself when I said to him, “I want you to fuck me.”

Goosebumps rose over his arms before he locked his deep blue eyes on mine.

Lifting himself to his knees between my thighs, he hooked one finger under the waistline of my panties. I mentally thanked Gemma for convincing me to wear a simple black thong instead of my trusted granny panties.

“This okay?” he asked breathlessly.

I nodded furiously, but he didn’t move. He raised his eyebrows as if waiting for a verbal answer.

“Yes,” I practically whined. “Yes.”

With that, he slid my panties off and discarded them in the same general direction as where he’d thrown my bra.

He bent to catch my mouth in another deep kiss.

Only this time, I felt a single-digit trace between my legs.

He dragged it up and down, opening me, spreading the slickness there before slipping into my core.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so wet.”

Every nerve in my body lit up like a Christmas tree. I moaned as he worked his finger inside me, hooking it upward, then adding another. A crease formed between his eyebrows as he drank in my needy expression.

If his fingers feel this good…

As if reading my mind, he kissed down my body, removing his fingers as his lips moved across my hips and landed on the sensitive, tender skin of my inner thighs.

He disappeared for a moment, and I wanted to protest his absence when he slid off the bed.

But he returned soon with a familiar-looking foil packet in hand.

I glanced down to see that he had also discarded his boxers.

Wow.

He took note of my surprised, hungry expression and gave a cocky smirk as he climbed back between my legs and used his teeth to peel away the corner of the packet.

I didn’t think watching a man roll a condom over his length could be so hot, but holy shit.

I was going to come undone before we even started.

He centered himself over me and traced his tip over my clit, teasing me until I wanted to beg for more. He only took mercy on me when I let out an exasperated noise in protest. With a small, cruel huff of a laugh, he lined himself up to slide slowly, so, so slowly, into me.

I felt every inch of him as he eased himself farther and farther, deeper with each pump until he was fully seated. After pausing to let me adjust to the pressure, he settled into a steady rhythm over me, hitting me so deliciously that I couldn’t help but arch my back in response.

He hooked one of my legs behind the knee and pulled it up, hitching it so high on his hip that it nearly touched his chest, doubling the deep pleasure, making my head spin.

Holy shit.

Already inching toward euphoria, it dawned on me that I was probably never going to see this guy again.

Something about that was freeing, a permission I didn’t know I was looking for.

I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while it was happening, feel all of him as deeply as possible while I still could.

Mustering the courage to make the move, I pushed at his shoulder until he understood my motive. With an arm supporting under my waist, he flipped us until he was lying on his back beneath me .

I took his length in hand and lowered myself as far as I could go. With a groan, Nate let his head roll back onto the pillows. His eyes shuddered to a close as I began to move.

If I could file away and save mental images forever, I would have saved the image of Nate like this. Undone, uncontrolled, messy, and submitted to the pleasure we both felt.

I was already addicted; I just didn’t know it yet.

I savored his chest and abdomen, running my nails down the length of his torso, over the tattoo on his heart—a sunrise over a horizon—as I began my own pace on top of him.

The crease between his brows returned when I swiveled my hips just right.

His hands flew to grip me, one at my waist, the other no doubt leaving purplish marks on my thigh.

I tightened and fluttered around him, the first signs of my impending orgasm, and I suspected he was getting close, too, with the way he held me.

He flipped us back over with little warning, taking my legs with him, guiding one of my ankles up and over his shoulder. Propping himself up with one hand near my head, he pumped into me so deeply I moaned at the shock of the new pleasure.

I inched toward my peak, driven closer and closer with every thrust, spurred on by the sounds Nate made as he fucked me.

Fingers grabbing at his comforter, I begged for some kind of purchase as my approaching release pulled tighter.

With one last thrust, it finally snapped.

My breaths turned shallow as I came, the shudders of my orgasm wracking through me.

Within a matter of seconds, Nate followed me over the edge with ragged, sloppy movement as he moaned his release.