The need for release spirals between my legs, and my fingers move more urgently now. Slippery circles and scrapes have me bucking my hips. My pussy contracts, one hard, long squeeze, and Rhett shouts, an unintelligible sound made through gritted teeth.
His flat belly sticks to mine as he moves now. Sweat.
I want more. Need more. I put a hand on the firm globe of his ass cheek and guide him deeper inside me. He kisses my neck. I arch upward, fingers curling into his flesh, fingers working my clit.
I want this to end I want this to last forever.
Whether or not it lasts is in Rhett’s hands now.
“I feel you,” he breathes. “You feel so sweet. C’mon, honey, give it to me.”
I press the pads of my first two fingers against my clit at the same time he hits me at the crest of a thrust, swiveling his hips.
I close my eyes, and I come.
I clamp down on his dick, release ricocheting through me with such force I bite down on my lip and taste blood.
“Rhett!” I shout, not thinking. I close my eyes.
Covering my mouth with his hand, he breathes, “Shout all you want, A. Fucking lose your mind.”
Now I’m biting down on the fleshy part of the heel of his hand. It’s calloused, hard, just like the way he pounds into me now, his rhythm suddenly uneven, hips jerking.
I come, and I come, and I come, sensation that spirals through my pussy and spreads through my pelvis, making the muscles in the small of my back tighten.
I come down just as Rhett rises up.
He takes.
I let him.
He drives into me blindly, and I keep my eyes closed. A last-ditch effort to keep my feelings in check. If I see how much he wants me, how much he needs me, it’s over. That’s the kind of love that makes me stupid.
Stupid and desperate.
The muscles along Rhett’s sides seize. He rises on one last quick, punishing thrust.
He goes still inside me, our bodies throbbing in time to his release. He groans.
He’s groaned plenty. But this one is different. It ends on a slightly high-pitched note that sounds suspiciously like a whimper.
He’s helpless, a feeling I know all too well.
My heart clenches. I feel like I’m finally a part of something—a couple, a family—and this, the sex, it’s part of the affirmation. Everything I’ve ever wanted is right here.
After a beat, Rhett collapses on top of me and lets out a long, low breath, tucking his head into the crook of my neck. He stays like that for a while, and I tangle my fingers in his hair. Soothing him.
It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right.
If you just let me in, I say with my touch, we’ll all be all right.
Or maybe that’s just me being an idiot.
“You’re not leaving,” he grumbles against my skin.
My fingers go still. “I didn’t say I was.”
“You’re thinking about it, and like you suggested, I’m nipping that thought in the bud.”
Sighing, I draw my knees away from his body, straightening my legs. “Last night, you said you couldn’t do sleepovers. But here you are, already breaking that rule. Liam—”
“You’re not fucking leaving, A. It’s late, you’re tired, and I wanna make love to you again.”
Now my heart is tripping to a stop.
“And yes, I know what I said, and I one hundred percent meant to say it.”
A happy, floaty feeling fills me. It ripples outward from the center of my being, making my toes tingle, making every hair on my body stand on end.
But then I think about what his words mean and what they don’t, and there’s a heavy twist in my chest.
I want those words. There just has to be more to them, though. I want more. Always have.
I’ve worked hard not to hate myself for that. So many people, guys especially, said I was difficult or crazy for not only knowing what I wanted but for asking for it too.
Respect. Romance.
But Rhett? Rhett always liked what I had to say. Until he didn’t.
Has that really changed?
I do and don’t want to find out. Because this right here—it’s so, so good. But it’s just a repeat of what we had in high school. And that didn’t last for a reason.
I flatten my palms against his chest and gently press upward. “You can’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asks, pushing up onto his hands. Our eyes meet, and his flash with panic.
Panic that spreads its wings inside my breastbone.
“In one breath, you say you can’t make promises right now. In another, you say you’re in love, and you know the kind of love I want comes with a promise. You know that, Rhett. So either you’re full of shit, or you’re breaking my heart.”
His eyebrows push together, and his lips part. For half a heartbeat, I expect him to fight me.