I didn’t expect him to be any different than he’d told me he’d been in the past—quick, detached, sex for the sake of release. I didn’t expect him to look into my eyes, to go slow, to talk to me, to make love to me. But that’s exactly what he did.
All night.
Over and over until I’d lost count of my orgasms, until my voice was hoarse from saying his name, until my body was wrung out and trembling, and yet somehow still greedy for him.
When morning came, I was sore and weak, but I wanted him again before I’d even opened my eyes. I slid on top of him while he slept, the sunlight catching in his hair, and let the wetness between my thighs coat the length of him. I stroked him gently until his eyes opened, heavy and hazy, then guided him inside me.
The moment he pushed in, his gaze sharpened. There was no condom, just him, thick and deep, and the kind of heat that burned from the inside out. It wasn’t intentional, not on my part.I’d never been with anyone without protection. But even after we realized it, neither of us moved to change it.
I started to rock against him, and he warned me, but my body didn’t listen.
When I tried to shift off him, his hands gripped my hips, holding me down, pushing up into me harder. I was on birth control, so I wasn’t worried, but he didn’t know that. And God, I didn’t have it in me to stop him, especially not when it felt so good.
I braced my palms on his chest, watching every line of muscle tighten under my hands as he thrust into me. My orgasm was building fast, and I started to move in sync with him, chasing the high of that first skin-to-skin release.
“West…” I gasped, his name breaking on my lips over and over. My breasts bounced with each movement, the peaks aching, and I cupped them, squeezing my nipples until pleasure streaked through me sharp enough to tip me over the edge. My eyes fluttered shut, my body clamping around him?—
And just as I came down from my own high, he pulled me off, his release spilling hot across my stomach.
“Oh fuck…” he groaned, chest heaving, his hands still holding me in place as his breathing slowed. “I can’t believe I lost that much control. I can’t believe I almost?—”
I cut him off, dragging my fingers through the slickness on my skin. “I’m on the pill,” I whispered, meeting his eyes. “And I’ve never had sex without a condom either. I just lost my mind.”
His gaze locked on mine. “You’re on the pill?”
I smiled faintly, swirling my fingers through what was left of him on my stomach like a tease. “Yeah.”
“Good.” His voice dropped lower, more certain, as he grabbed my hand and brought my pointer finger to his mouth. His tongue slid over it slowly, tasting himself off me. “Then that’s the last time I come outside your body.”
It was such a West Brooks thing to say. So possessive, certain, and final that my insides clenched all over again.
I was addicted to that control of his. Addicted to him.
My hips started moving again without thought, and he didn’t stop me. He bent his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before biting down just enough to make me gasp. He gave the other the same attention before pulling me back over him, sliding inside with no barrier between us.
His arms wrapped around me, my fingers tangled in his hair, and we kissed like we’d been starved for days instead of mere minutes. When we came, it was quiet, slow, and so heartbreakingly tender that I knew no matter how fake this marriage was, this wasn’t pretend.
Eventually, we had to get out of bed.
The house didn’t have much food so we ended up at the dining table eating oatmeal and bottled water, smiling at each other like kids playing house. We talked casually about stopping for groceries on the way home, like we were just another married couple with a Saturday errand list.
We’d already decided I was taking the day off from work, but halfway through breakfast he said, “There’s a reason I needed you to take today off.”
I lifted a brow. “Yeah?”
“I need to take you somewhere. Need to do something that, up until last weekend, I thought I was going to have to do myself.”
At first, I didn’t know what he meant. Last weekend had been the concert, but then I remembered the nightmare, the vacant look in his eyes, the sharp edge of fear in him.
I didn’t ask. I just let him lead me out to the truck.
He drove us onto the main highway, and it wasn’t long before he turned into a driveway I recognized only from passing by on rare trips to the city.
The house on the hill.
I’d heard it belonged to the Brooks family, but I’d never asked Easton or Miles about it. We weren’t that close. We never talked about anything too deep.
A rusted chain and lock held the gate shut. West climbed out, wearing jeans again, a T-shirt layered under an unbuttoned flannel. even though the air was warm. His hand trembled slightly as he entered the code, and when the lock popped open, he paused like he might change his mind and put it back on.
