Our Way

His hand goes to my breast and he kneads it hard as he pulls me back against his body.

Fuck.

My sex begins to throb.

“Eliza,” he whispers as his lips move to my neck. He kisses me, and I feel his tongue as it swipes over my skin. My sex clenches in appreciation.

His hands are roaming all over me, goosebumps trailing where his fingers go, and our bodies writhing together slowly.

I’m wet—so wet.

I feel like I’m having an out of body experience.

Everything feels magnified. Every breath that he takes, every quiver on his inhale. Every vein I think I can feel in his hard cock.

I just want to roll over, open my legs, and kiss him.

I want him inside of me. I want to feel my Nathan inside me.

Every hard inch.

His phone rings, and we both jump back from each other guiltily.

He answers it. “Nathan Mercer.” He drops his head as he listens.

I stare at him as my heart hammers in my chest. With only the moonlight in the room, I can see the tip of his cock as it peeks over the top of his boxer shorts.

He’s hard. Rock hard. I didn’t imagine it.

His eyes rise to meet mine.

“Yes.” He listens. “Give him the other antibiotic and begin fluids.” He listens some more. “Call me if there’s any change.” He hangs up and stares at me for a moment.

Something hangs heavily in the air between us.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I wait for him to say something, and finally, he speaks. “I’ve got to go.”

“Where to?”

His haunted eyes hold mine. “Away from you.”

He turns and grabs his clothes in the darkness before he rushes up the hall. A few moments later, I hear the front door click closed.

He’s gone.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

The alarm blares through my room breaking the silence. I frown sleepily and knock it off.

“Ouch.” My head feels like it’s in a vise. Those margaritas were the devil.

Hazy memories of last night’s disaster begin to resurface.

Nathan didn’t come back after he cooled down, like I thought he would. He never stays away when we fight.

We crossed a line.