I said I’d make her cry out my name, and in the end I’m the one doing it, saying her name over and over as the pressure crests and erupts, making me jerk and shake.
My heart’s pounding its way out of my chest. I fall on top of her, my arms like rubber, as I draw breath after breath.
She shifts underneath me and I swallow a moan, still trapped inside her. Jesus, I’m crushing her. I lift myself on my elbows and look down at her face.
She’s smiling. “That was...”
“Awesome?” I wink and she laughs.
A wave of protectiveness washes over me. I’ll do anything to save that laughter, that look of bliss in her eyes.
“It was awesome, yes.” She trails her fingertips over my mouth and I nibble at them, making her squeal. That makes her clench again around me and I groan, my eyes rolling back in my head with aftershocks.
“One sec.” I gently pull out of her and remove the condom. My legs feel like jelly, but I stumble to the bathroom and dispose of it before returning to her.
My ribs ache, and my jaw throbs from the fight the night before, but I feel so good I don’t care. My body still hum
s with pleasure, and there’s a weight off my chest.
She came back to me. Hope burns so bright it pushes the doubts away.
“Do I remember correctly—did you say you brought food?” My stomach growls at the thought.
She snickers. “What a romantic thing to say, Ash.”
I shrug and smirk. “I can make it romantic.”
She looks doubtful, and yeah, maybe romantic isn’t the right word—but when I pull her to sit between my legs and feed her spicy fish balls and curried noodles she seems to enjoy it.
She also wiggles a lot, grinding her sweet ass against me, making me hard all over again. Distracting me.
“What are you doing for New Year’s?” she asks later, breaking the spell.
“I have no plans,” I mutter.
“Then spend it with me.”
A sweet ache forms in my chest. I live day to day, and shouldn’t make promises. But I do it anyway because there’s nothing I want more. “Okay.”
She smiles and twists around to kiss me. “I have to go. Dakota is back today and we’re meeting to study together.”
A reminder of how different her life is from mine. I watch her pull on her clothes, going a little cross-eyed trying to see if her nipples show through her pink bra.
“Want to come over tonight?” She tugs down her long sweater. “Ash?”
“Hm? Oh.” I have to fight tonight. God knows how I’ll emerge from the club. Showing up on her doorstep covered in bruises and blood won’t go down so nicely. “I can’t. I have to be somewhere.”
“Where?” she asks softly.
“Just somewhere. It’s a club, called The Bulldog.” Why the hell am I telling her this? “Need to take care of something.”
She’s worrying her lower lip with her small, white teeth. So sexy. But her eyes are worried. “Okay. Want me to come with you?”
God, no. I shiver. What we’ve done—the fact she’s come to me, the awesome sex—is that a sign I should talk to her after all? Tell her where I’m planning to be tonight and the reasons for it?
She’s come and stayed.
Maybe it’s time to stop running? She says she cares, and she’s showing me just that. I have to trust it, trust the feeling. Trust her.