Page 91 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

Her eyes open, hazy with pleasure but focused on my face. The connection between us in that moment feels almost tangible, like a physical thing binding us together beyond just our bodies. I press my thumb more firmly against her clit.

That’s all it takes.

She falls apart with a cry that might be my name, her pussy clenching around my cock in near-violent waves. The sensation of her orgasm, combined with the sight of her face in ecstasy, pushes me right to the edge. I thrust upward, meeting her movements, chasing my own release.

So. Fucking. Perfect.

After a few more strokes, I follow her over the cliff, splintering inside her so hard that I see spots dancing at the edges of my vision. My orgasm tears through me with an intensity that leaves me breathless, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as I empty myself into the condom.

Wren collapses onto my chest, her body trembling with aftershocks. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as our breathing gradually slows. Her hair is damp with sweat where it sticks to my chest. Faintly, I can feel her heart racing against my own.

We lie there, neither of us speaking, neither of us needing to. The silence is comfortable, filled with the kind of contentment that comes after not just sex, but connection. I stroke her back lazily, not ready to break the spell that seems to have settled over us.

I’ve broken plenty of hearts. Been called every synonym for asshole in the book. But none of it ever mattered. Not until now. Not until Wren.

Eventually, she shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. Her expression is soft, open in a way I’verarely seen from her. There’s a vulnerability there that makes my throat tight.

“What are you thinking?”

I could lie, could give her some generic response about how good she was or how much I enjoyed it. But something about the moment, about the way she’s looking at me, demands honesty.

“I’m thinking that was the best sex I’ve ever had,” I tell her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m thinking I want to fuck you again. A lot.”

Her smile in response is like the sunrise, gradual and warm and full of promise. She leans down to press her lips against mine in a kiss that’s gentle but somehow more intimate than anything we’ve shared tonight.

Sometime just before sunrise, she wakes me with a kiss on my lips.

“Hey,” she whispers. “I should go before people start waking up around here.”

My arms slide around her waist and pull her closer. I kiss her like she is the air and I am thirsty for oxygen. My body stirs and she runs her hand down my flat abs, moaning just a little.

“Let me have you again before you go,” I ask.

She smiles against my lips but shakes her head. “I waited too long because I wanted to spend every last second in bed with you. But I really have to leave now. The EP is expecting the bachelorettes to start waking up in less than an hour. Believe me, I know.”

I sigh and release her. “Maybe the next time you come in here, you just leave the cameras on, huh? Then we can take as much time as we want.”

She flashes me a wicked smile. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. But I’m glad to hear that you think there will be a next time.”

She gets up and starts hunting around for her shorts. I grab her and pull her to the edge of the bed, kissing her.

“Is there not going to be a next time?” I ask.

“I hope there will be,” she says. “That is, if you want it.”

Of course I want it. How could I ever refuse? I kiss her again and she sighs.

“I have to plug the cameras back in. Try not to miss me too much, huh?”

She slips out my bedroom door and I turn my head toward the bed. Not missing her will be more of a challenge than I thought.

twenty-five

WREN

This isn’t just a game.It’s a spectacle. A whirlwind. A high-stakes, end-of-the-season, star-studded charity event with a magnitude that feels like the Super Bowl. Everywhere you look, there’s a camera rolling: from the massive film crews ready to capture every blink and gasp, to phone-wielding fans anticipating the next viral moment.

It’s a mad house. Intense.