Page 202 of The Fall

Outside, thunder rolls across the sky like bowling balls down an endless lane. Blair shuffles the deck, then deals messy piles to each of us.

“House rules?” I ask, trying to focus on the colorful cards instead of the way his hair is curling at his temples and a kiss bruise is smudged against the curve of his throat.

“Lose a hand, lose an item.” His eyes glitter.

I fan out my cards, pretending to study them instead of the planes of his chest. “You first,” I say.

He drops a red nine on the pile between us. “Don’t go easy on me.”

I lay down a red seven. Blair counters with a red skip.

“Already playing dirty,” I mutter.

A few hands go by, broken only by the slap of cards and our increasingly ridiculous trash talk. The game tilts toward absurdity as the rain grows louder.

He lays down his final card—a wild—with a flourish.

“Cheater!” I cry.

“Or maybe you just suck at Uno,” Blair says, leaning forward with that cocky grin that makes me want to bite his lip. “Now pay up.”

“We’re already naked,” I remind him, gesturing at his sheet, which has slipped dangerously low on his hips.

“You’re not.” His eyes drop to his t-shirt on me. “Rules are rules.”

He crawls toward me across the mattress, cards scattering beneath his knees. His mouth seizes mine, hungry and filthy. Cards slide off the bed as he pushes me back into the pillows.

His thigh slots between mine. Thunder crashes outside, rain streams down windows in rivulets, and Blair’s tongue slides into my mouth. His palm runs up my thigh. I breathe him in and let myself be mapped by his hands.

His fingers tug at the hem of his t-shirt. “Take this off, loser.”

I can’t help it; I giggle into his kiss. He growls when I can’t stop, burying his face in my chest and nibbling at me until my laughter melts into moans. I’m a mess: laughing, gasping, arching against him, my hands on his shoulders, my thighs around his waist. He bites down on my pec, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Want you,” he breathes.

“Take me,” I whisper back.

He answers with his body: covering me, lining up our hips so we fit together perfectly. I pull him in with my ankles at the small of his back. We move slow, then slower still, drawing out each second.

He takes his time with me. His hands are broad and careful as they skim my thighs and cup the backs of my knees, lifting them and kissing the inside of each leg. He places each one on his shoulder, opening me wide.

The mattress dips as he shifts closer. His hands slide beneath me, tilting my hips. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh before he reaches for the nightstand and fumbles with the drawer. The sound of the cap clicking open makes me shiver, and I grip the sheets as he works me open again.

“Torey,” he breathes. “You’re perfect.”

I reach for him, pulling him closer, needing more contact. His body covers mine again. Our eyes lock as he positions himself.

When he pushes inside me, it’s slow enough that I can measure each inch he fills. My arms wind around his shoulders, and I drag him down until we’re chest-to-chest, connected everywhere.

We stay like that, bodies joined, breaths syncing, until he starts to move. The sound of rain against the windows matches our slow pace. He dips his head to kiss me, his tongue sliding against mine as his body rocks into me. My legs tighten around him, drawing him deeper.

My eyes flutter closed then open again. I want to see him, need to watch his face as he moves inside me. My hands roam his back, feeling his muscles flex. I hold onto him, nails digging into muscle as heat builds inside me, gathering together like the storm outside, building, building, building?—

He comes first, a shuddering gasp muffled against my skin, and then reaches between us to stroke me until I follow him over the edge.

Afterward, we lie tangled in the damp sheets, my head on Blair’s chest, his hand stroking up and down my back. Uno cards are scattered everywhere. One is stuck to my calf, another to his thigh.

“Best game I’ve ever lost,” I say.