The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

I nodded again.

His palm ran down to my throat. “You stole from me.”

I swallowed under his hand.

His grip tightened, and he pulled me to my feet. We were eye-to-eye now, and a shiver coasted through me. His lips brushed mine. “I felt fucking crazy wondering where you were,” he bit out.

I nodded again.

“You don’t know,” he growled. “I can’t stay away from you for more than a fucking day and you can run off without a second thought.”

I shook my head, but his grip slid to my chin and stopped me.

“You. Don’t. Know.”

He pressed his lips to mine, softly, confusing my senses with how volatile his mood was. He deepened the kiss and I melted like butter, my heart glowing and mending itself back together. I moaned when his tongue slid into my mouth, my hands resting on each side of his face.

His palms skimmed up the backs of my thighs and stilled when they met my bare ass cheeks. He slowed the kiss, pulling back to look at me in his shirt.

His gaze sparked. “Take it off.”

My skin burned as I grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over my head. I stood there, naked and breathless. He lifted my breast to his mouth and sucked on the nipple. I yelped when he bit down.

“Fuck, I’m still so pissed at you, baby.”

“But you won’t leave me here?”

“No,” he rasped. “I can’t fuck you way over here.” He cupped me between the legs, sliding two fingers inside of me.

Relief and a spike of heat ran through my veins.

He kissed me, and this time it was laced with every ounce of his anger. Deep and rough and consuming. Reality faded away to nothing but him—his heat, scent, and my eager heart feeling whole again with every touch of his hands.

The kiss burned into madness. A breathless, greedy sort of madness. His hand fisted in my hair, his lips and teeth trailing down my neck. I ran my arms around his shoulders, pressing my body against his. He stood, lifted me, and dropped me on the bed. His heavy weight settled on top of me and I released a sigh.

With his mouth on mine, he lifted my thigh and pressed his erection between my legs. Sparks fluttered through me before dissolving and eliciting a need for more. I tugged at his shirt and he pulled back to take it off. He nipped at my breasts and stomach as his mouth drifted downward. Something in my subconscious tickled.

“Wait,” I breathed, blinking to clear the lust-filled haze in my mind. Nico’s hands tightened on my legs as he kissed the inside of my thigh and then the other, and before he could get to where he was heading and I lost all train of thought, I blurted, “Platonic.”

He tensed but stopped, his gaze hot with lust and frustration.

I swallowed. “I don’t want to do this if there are going to be other women, Nico. I can’t.”

He watched me for two tense seconds.

“You’re enough for me.”

My heart grew. I suddenly realized that even if I’d heard those words from him at the beginning, I wouldn’t have believed them. However, now an unexplainable feeling told me his words rang true.

He pressed his face between my legs and I burned with bliss.

I kissed him for hours, fucked him until I was sore and there was a reminder of him inside me. He was still mad at me. I felt it with each nip of his teeth, each smack on my ass, and everything I’d had to promise to get my orgasm: Not to endanger myself by leaving the house alone. To take my phone everywhere, or else he’d glue it to my hand. To not fucking steal from him. And to always wear his t-shirts around the house and nothing else.

It wasn’t an unreasonable list, I had to admit, though I did believe the last one was selfishly motivated. I promised him everything because of four words.

You’re enough for me.

The metronome in my chest pulsed to a different rhythm. One of sleepless nights, rough hands and white t-shirts.