The food is delicious, but it sticks in my throat. Niall drinks a bit more, finishing two tequilas and sipping at a third, and I can tell by the time we leave that he’s a little tipsy. His hand briefly rests on the small of my back as we leave the restaurant, and I tell myself not to make too much of it.It doesn’t mean anything,I repeat over and over in my head as we go to the hotel.
The lump in my throat grows even more when Niall asks at the hotel for a room with only two beds. “I’m sorry,” the woman behind the front desk says. “I only have one vacancy left, a room with a queen bed. There’s another hotel up the street, but I think they’re full, too.”
“It’s fine,” Niall says, his jaw tensing. “We’ll take the room.”
I can feel that same tension running through him as we walk up the stairs. I can tell he’s a little drunk from the restaurant—not enough for anyone else to notice. Still, I know him well enough now to see the slight hitch in his step, the softening around the edges of his words.
He locks the door behind us, and once again, I’m very aware of the fact that there’s only one bed. A queen, this time, so a little more space for the two of us, but still—one bed.
A bed that I want to do so many things to him in.
“I’m going to shower,” Niall says gruffly, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I’m afraid I’ll beg him to kiss me again like he did last night, this morning, that I’ll beg for everything else I want from him tonight. Tomorrow we’ll be on a plane to the States, and I know somewhere deep inside that once we’re there, once he has me set up in my own place, he won’t touch me again.
He disappears into the bathroom without another word, and a moment later, I hear the water turn on. I clench my hands in front of me, knowing I shouldn’t do what’s running through my head right now, knowing I shouldn’t go to him.
But the thought of him, wet and naked in the shower, is impossible to resist.
Tentatively, I slip into the bathroom. Niall doesn’t see me at first, and I get to look at him standing there, muscled, gorgeous, and dripping under the hot spray of water. The only thing that mars it is the massive bruises covering his shoulders, torso and hips, down to his thighs, visible even through the opaque glass. I want to touch him, to comfort him so badly that it hurts, and before I can stop myself, I shimmy out of my top and skirt, gingerly opening the door to the shower.
Niall jumps slightly as I step inside, his eyes going wide. “Isabella! What the—”
“Shh,” I whisper, and I lean forward, taking his face in my hands as I go up on my tiptoes.
I’d wanted to steal a kiss. Just one. But as soon as my lips touch his, the surge of desire inside of me demands so much more. I feel Niall stiffen for just a second, as if he’s going to tell me, no, and then his hands are on my hips, pulling me into him as he deepens the kiss.
I’ve never kissed anyone but him, but I can’t imagine it could be better with anyone else. Niall’s kisses are just firm enough, just demanding enough to awaken that part of me that wants him to devour me, but gentle enough to let me know that I could stop if I wanted to. His tongue presses against the seam of my mouth, sliding over my lower lip, and I open my mouth for him eagerly, wanting more.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You’re being a bad girl again, Isabella.”
“Why?” I whisper in return, even though I know the answer.
“Because if you stay in here,” Niall continues, his voice dropping to a low, husky rumble. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself from fucking you.”
I look up at him, at his piercing blue eyes framed by wet black hair and an impossibly chiseled face, and I feel as daring as I did that first night as I whisper back, “what if I want you to?”
Niall groans, deep in his throat, nipping lightly at my lower lip before grabbing my upper arms and turning me around swiftly, pushing me forward so that my hands are on the wall of the shower. I hear his sharp intake of breath as he sees the welts on my ass and feel how gentle he is when he grips my hips, even if the prod of his swollen cockhead at my pussy’s entrance is far from gentle.
When he pushes inside of me, I cry out, still sore from last night, but it feels so good too. I’m already wet just from his kisses, and when he slides a hand underneath me, teasing my clit, I let out a moan of pleasure.
“More, please,” I gasp, wanting to feel all of him, thrusting hard inside of me, and this time Niall doesn’t argue. He just gives it to me.
He slams his cock into me, every inch, stretching and filling my already sore pussy as his hips slap against my ass, the welts there hurting. Still, it feels like he’s writing over the memory of that pain with new, exquisite pleasure. I know I’m going to come, the feeling of his fingers stroking my clit as his cock thrusts into me again and again too much to bear. I can’t hold back, and I press my palms against the wall to try to keep from falling as I feel the shudders of pleasure starting to overtake me.
“That’s right, come on my cock,” Niall growls, leaning forward, so his lips brush against my ear. “Come for me, Isabella.”
I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want to ever stop. I know I’m only prolonging the inevitable, that with every night together, it’s going to hurt so much more when they’re over, but I can’t seem to stop myself, like picking at a wound that won’t heal. I crave Niall, crave the passion, the lust, the way he can’t seem to control himself around me either, and all I want right now is for us to burn up together.
I hear his groan of pleasure as he fills me up with his cum, shuddering against me as he fucks every inch of his cock into me as deeply as he can go, his fingers pressing hard against my hip. I gasp, arching into him, feeling myself clench as if to milk every drop out of his cock, and then I hear Niall let out a ragged sigh as he slumps, his cock slipping out of me as it softens.
I turn slowly, seeing him braced against the wall with one hand as the hot water sprays over us both. “I really did come in here to help you clean up,” I tell him softly. “I just—I wanted to help—”
“You can’t tell me you didn’t come in here to get fucked, Isabella.” Niall glances at me. “Don’t pretend.”
My face flushes, and I look away. “Do you want me to leave?”
He lets out a breath. “No. Come here, lass. We can help clean each other up.”
It’s intensely intimate, helping him wash. He’s stiff and bruised, and I help him clean the wounds he can’t reach. He helps me, too, scrubbing my back as I hold up my wet hair. When we get out, I help him treat and bandage his wounds again, and then I slip out of the bathroom, trying not to cry as I get dressed again. I don’t know what I’m going to sleep in, but I suddenly don’t want to sleep naked next to Niall, wanting him when I know he’s going to be lying there, doing his best not to give in again.
I’m reaching for my top when I feel his hand on my arm, and I turn slowly to see him standing there in only his boxer briefs and his bandages, looking down at me intensely.
“What are you trying to do, Isabella?” he asks softly, and I feel my heart skip a beat in my chest.
I look up at him, trying not to let the trembling I feel show as I meet his eyes. “What do you mean?