I still don’t know what to make of his words, but I’m too distracted by the sight of him shoving his hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He slips out a condom and tosses the wallet onto the dresser. There’s a rip of foil. My head is spinning from shallow breathing and unprecedented erotic pleasure. I couldfaint,and I have no opportunity to come down from the high before he bends me over the dresser, hikes my skirt up again, and grips my hips to align them with his cock.
Colin enters me with one swift, forceful thrust, and heisbig, and it stretches me to my limits in a way that hurtsso fucking good. I gasp, and he groans, and our gazes lock in the mirror.
Blue eyes gone black. Jaw pulsing under day-old stubble. That dark, tousled, male model hair falling over his eyes, and he’sso fucking beautiful,too.He is potent, he ispoison, and he is a drug that could so easily hook me. The passion on his face looks like desperation and regret.
“I fucking wanted you, Elle,” Colin grinds out as though he needs me to understand his words deep in my soul. He thrusts harder and quicker, and I grip the edge of the dresser so tightly that it feels like it’s cutting into my palms.
“You have me right now,” come my own words on pure reflex, my vision blackening at my periphery as the pleasure climbs to incoherent levels.
He grabs a handful of my hair as he leans forward over me, hips slamming against my ass, and he pulls my face sideways toward his. “Tell me you wanted me, too. You took my fucking phone number. Tell me you fucking wanted me.”
“Idid,” I whimper truthfully. Because Idid. I wanted the phone number and the meet-up in the coffee shop the next day. Ineverwanted the two-faced asshole he ended up being.
Colin holds my face in place against his as he continues to piston his cock in and out, faster and harder, and I’m taking that flying leap off a cliff. I’m in danger of screaming his name so loudly that everyone in this absurdly large house will hear it. But before any sound escapes my throat, he claims my mouth with a searing kiss, and I moan against his lips. He wraps his arm tight around my middle, pressing all of his thick, substantial length as deep into me as it can go.
A guttural groan rumbles out of him as I feel him twitch inside of me. Our lips release, but our foreheads are planted together, slick with sweat, while our heaving breath mingles.
Colin releases my waist to plant both of his palms on the dresser on either side of my hands, trapping me here with him. Not that I have any presence of mind to try to escape. We stay like that for a few beats before my spent muscles cause my legs to start shaking.
“My legs are about to give,” I sputter on a shallow breath. “I need to sit.”
His hooded gaze catches mine in the mirror briefly before he slides out, andGod.Even him pulling out amidst the aftershocks is nearly enough to make me come a third time. He stands up straight and gives his shirt a tug as if attempting to cover himself, then holds both of my wrists to help me right myself.
When I’m upright, Colin fixes my dress so that I’m covered as well, and guides me with that boyfriend-style hand on my back to usher me to the bed. I opt to lie down rather than sit because not only are all my muscles useless, but also all the alcohol from the whole day starts to catch up with me. Curling up on my side, the room seems to rock back and forth as I watch Colin slip through the door to the adjoining bathroom.
I hear the faucet run for a moment. I detect the shuffle of shoes and the sound of clothing being removed and adjusted. My vision is punctuated with slow blinks, and sometime later, he reemerges.
Colin fixes his gaze on me as he crouches next to the bed, and this is where things get hazy. I’m drunk and sleepy and physically spent.
His eyes have returned to their crystalline, cornflower blue, and he draws his hand over my head, sweeping back my hair. “Do you want to clean up or change?”
My head moves in either a nod or a shake. It’s hard to tell which.
The next thing I know, Colin and I are both in the bathroom at the separate sinks in the long, marble vanity, brushing our teeth in silence like a fucking married couple, and I don’t remember digging out my toothbrush. Then we’re in the bed, under the sheets, and I’m wearing a large, white t-shirt that smells like spice, leather, and something woodsy, and I’m catapulted back in time six months to the moment when I first smelled it. Way back when I wanted to drown myself in it. Way back before Colin revealed himself to be the two-faced asshole that I know he still is, even though now he’s holding me against his chest like we’re still that married couple from the bathroom a few minutes ago.
It is allverydisorienting.
But it’s nice, too.
I don’t think I’ve slept this well in a long time. Maybe ever.
10
THE IDEA WAS TO fuck Elle out of my system.
The plan—at least part of it—for this whole weekend was to indulge in a taste of that hope I felt for an hour on the first day I met her so that I could move on from this ridiculous crush I haven’t been able to shake.
None of that is what happened.
I slept for maybe an hour. Whatreallyhappened kept me up for the majority of the night.
Because whatreallyhappened was I indulged so deeply in that hope that I’ve created yet another problem for myself; a problem I really can’t afford to have.
Whatreallyhappened was not fucking Elle out of my system, rather I fucked her so deeplyintomy system that now there’s no getting her back out.
Hope is my drug, and I overdosed on hope laced with Elle.
I injected her into my veins, she infused my bloodstream, and went straight to my heart.
