“I hate you.” The words seethe from my lips.
“Everyone does. I’m used to the sentiment.” He shrugs and walks back to the party as if he didn’t blow up my entire world.
* * *
I meetOpal downstairs and we share a cab back to the hotel. It’s a short drive but I can’t bring myself to say much. My mind runs with the thousand different ways this relationship goes with Opal, and all of them end badly. I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know how to keep that from happening.
We walk inside the hotel lobby, which is busy despite the late hour. A crowd gathers at the bar and everyone around us seems happy, joyful, as they celebrate the weekend. I can’t get to the room quickly enough. There’s a need to block out all the noise, both internal and external, I can’t seem to chase.
But inside the room isn’t any better. My head pounds and the clarity I seek isn’t within reach. Because no matter what I do, I’m screwed.
“Hey.” Opal slides her hand down my arm until her fingers thread with mine. “What’s going on?” Her eyes are warm and inviting. Sweet. And completely fucking clueless.
“Nothing.” I shrug away from her touch. I don’t deserve her comfort.
She doesn’t let me off so easy. “You’ve been really quiet all night.”
“Just tired.” I stretch my arm back and rub the tension along my shoulders.
I can feel her gaze on me. Her kindness has always been a balm to the fractured edges of my soul, but now it only heightens my worthlessness. “You sure that’s all?”
“Jesus, Opal, can’t a man just be tired.”
“Sorry.” Her eyes widen as though I’ve struck her and she steps away, wrapping her arms around her waist.
I’m an asshole. I reach for her and though her limbs are stiff, she allows me to pull her close. “I’m sorry. I—” I take a breath to try again. “I . . . I’m—” Words fail me.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk, but don’t lie to me.” Her words hurt more than a punch to the gut.
“I want to tell you, but . . .” I clench my eyes shut, breathe in the scent of her conditioner, and allow the tension to seep from my shoulders.
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk.” Her arms wrap around my waist and she presses her body to mine. She lifts her chin and her lips deliver forgiveness I don’t merit, but accept anyway.
I’m a bastard, because I could tell her. Come clean. She’s all but given the perfect opportunity. Instead I assault her lips as if it’s the last time she’ll ever kiss me again. It might be. I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Not after what I’ve done or how I’ve hidden this much of myself. If the tables were turned, I wouldn’t.
Instead of confessing my sins, I worship her. I brand myself on her with every sacred touch. We strip each other bare and I lay her out on the bed. We’re on borrowed time, but I make the most of every second. Kissing her, stroking her, loving her with my mouth until she comes.
I climb up her body, but she pushes me to my back. She’s bolder now. This woman isn’t the same girl I met weeks ago. She’s more. And for this moment, she’s mine.
“I want you,” she says. Straddling my hips, she rubs back and forth along my erection. It takes all of my remaining self-control to not push up into her. As much as I want that, to be sheathed in her warmth, I love watching her take control. Set the pace. Make me beg for more.
“Please, baby. Fuck, do you know how sexy you are right now?” The words tumble from my mouth. My hands caress up her thighs to her waist and skim up her chest until her breasts are in my palms. Heavy, full, and fucking amazing. I brush my thumbs across her nipples until they harden.
The moan that escapes her mouth is positively sinful. “Leighton, I want you in me. I want to ride you.”
My hands abandon her breasts to rest at her hips. “Yes, fuck me, baby. Ride me, Opal. Get yourself off on my cock.”
She gasps, her eyes finding mine, then she lifts her hips, positions me at her center and presses back down. “Oh, fuck. Leighton.” My name along with the intense look of pleasure on her face is enough to make me almost blow my load. I bite back the urge to lose myself, because this isn’t about me right now. It’s for her.
But holy fuck, she feels incredible. My eyes widen with the realization of why and I dig my fingers into her skin. “Condom,” I croak out through my tensed jaw. “We need a condom.”
Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t move off my cock. If anything, she grinds down harder as her hands rest on my chest. “Can you . . . pull out?” she says breathily. “It just, it feels so good. I don’t want anything between us.”
Fuck me. Her words are loaded and all the more reason I should refuse her request. I always wear a condom. Always. I’m nowhere near ready to be a father. I’ve never chanced it. But why does the idea not cause me to throw her off my dick? Opal carrying my child? That would be amazing.
In a few years.
If we are still together.
