He sighs as he stalks closer to me. “We need to hide them before Carsen gets here. I had no idea how much that guy could eat.” He leans down, kissing me.
I feel that rush of air, the crash of a giant wave, the sharpness from the wall of a mountain—the same things I do every time he kisses me and feeds that desire that burns and hums in my veins. Nolan is my wild and my calm. “I missed you this morning.”
“You were exhausted.”
“I’m pretty sure you broke our routine so you could set up all those stupid cups. How long did it take you to fill all three-hundred cups and set them up?” They had surrounded all sides of his bed and most of the floor.
He chuckles darkly. “Longer than I expected. I was almost late to the gym.”
I shake my head, my lips twisted with a smile. “I was trapped in bed all by myself, and on a Wednesday of all days when my day usually starts with my boyfriend’s mouth between my legs. It forced me to get a little creative…”
His eyes become molten pools of desire and lust. It’s the only warning I have before his hands grip my waist, and he hauls me over his shoulder. He passes the piles of cookies cooling, waiting to be put away, and takes the basement stairs two at a time, making my stomach drop like I’m on a giant rollercoaster.
He splays me across his bed and turns away long enough to turn on the small electric heater necessary to make the space tolerable since the temperatures went from summer to winter overnight a couple of weeks ago.
I’m scrambling to pull the covers over me in an attempt to find warmth, but Nolan pulls them away with one harsh tug, ignoring my shrieks of protest. “It’s frigid down here in the dungeon.”
“Sex dungeon,” he says, grinning as he reaches for my waistband. “I’ll have you warmed up in ten seconds. Time me.”
I squeal as he tugs my joggers and underwear in one clean swipe, exposing me to the cold.
“How many times did you get yourself off this morning?” he asks, pulling his shirt off and dropping it to the floor to follow my pants. His shoulders are round stacks of muscle, and his chest is chiseled perfection that I take my time admiring. Desire burns in the pit of my stomach causing warmth to spread through me and a heaviness to form between my legs, distracting me from his question. When I look up at his eyes, I note the focus and determination that makes him one of the most competitive and hardworking running backs in the league—he wants to beat my record.
I grin. “I lost count.”
His smile darkens as he runs a hand from my ankle to my hip, and then gently over my most sensitive part. “Sounds like I have my work cut out for me tonight.”
He runs his fingers over me with a little more pressure, still not parting me and touching me where I ache to feel his touch. He places both hands on my pelvic bone, using his thumbs to part me. Exposed to the cold air, I pull in a breath, my knees weak and heavy. With his eyes still on mine, Nolan leans down and licks the length of me. Fire courses through me as I lean my head back.
“I’m going to need those eyes, Cutlass.”
I sit up, and he rewards me by sucking my clit between his lips, making my entire body tremble and flush with heat. Nolan keeps his eyes on me as he licks and strokes and sucks on me until I’m shamelessly pleading for him to never stop and also begging him to bring me to release. Nolan slides a finger in me, finding the exact spot and pressure I need, making stars explode behind my eyelids as my entire body trembles as my orgasm tears through me. I’m free falling, bliss my compass.
I hear the familiar tear of foil and then Nolan’s helping me to my side and with one hard thrust, he’s inside of me, making me forget the euphoria as I cry out his name and beg for more. His hands are on my breasts and then my nipples, pinching and twisting in time with each delicious thrust of his hips. As my moans grow louder his thrusts become harder and faster, and this time when he tips me over the edge of pleasure, he follows me.
We lie in bed, our arms and legs tangled together, and the blankets pulled over us. I stare at the tree we picked up last Thursday after going to dinner at an Italian restaurant. We picked up ornaments and lights, then spent the rest of the night in the basement, decorating the tree while Christmas music played in the background, while Nolan told me about Peters being out for the next two weeks at minimum and I shared with him how I passed my speech and plans for our book club. After celebrating our successes, I asked more about his father’s brief career that never took off. I tell him more about Christian and how he and my sister resolve all arguments by ignoring them, and how I’ve seen first-hand the fractures it has caused to their relationship, despite the progression on paper and social media that makes them appear happy like the perfect couple when in reality, they sometimes seem like strangers.
“What are you thinking about?” Nolan asks, pressing a kiss to my temple before stroking the same spot with the pad of his thumb.
His gaze is steady, eyes curious as he studies me. His perfect, flawless mouth is a taunt I want to tease. I swear, I will never get tired of his mouth, especially now that I know it was indeed made for sin and pleasure, but also endless laughter and loving words.
Nolan draws the pad of his thumb over my jaw, and I know I’ll never tire of his touch, either. Not just during the throes of passion, but the soft and gentle caresses when we’re cuddled together, the calming and loving strokes that often ease me to sleep, the supportive touches that remind me I belong whether it’s with his friends or surrounded by strangers—I belong with him. I love all his touches and all their meanings. “That it feels like I’ve known you a lot longer than a few months. Sometimes it feels as though I’ve known you my whole life.”
He kisses my bare shoulder while running his palm over my ribs, hooking his hand around my waist, and pulling me closer to him. “I got that same feeling the first time I saw you. It was as though I recognized you—like my soul realized it had been looking for you.”
His words wrap around my heart as warm and safe as his arms are around my waist.
My grip on his arms tightens as the small hairs on my neck and arms stand with an eerie sense of recognition, realizing that I’d felt the same thing—that I still do. I’ve never been one to believe in soul mates. I wasn’t the girl who planned my wedding because I’ve always been trying to figure out where my cup was and how to fill it, but as I lie here with Nolan, I realize I somehow managed to find that hypothetical cup and fill it so full it’s now overfilling. I may never be the sunshine, bright side, positive person I’ve always envied. I might always be slow to trust and slower to allow people into my life, but I’m still filled with gratitude and love, and if my public speaking class taught me nothing else, it is that I’m becoming comfortable in my own skin with my weird control issues that manifest with finding the perfect recipes, and fears, and love for pranks. And I’m so grateful that things with Ezra and April went as they did because those losses allowed me to gain so much more. I snuggle into Nolan, breathing in his warm bergamot scent, absorbing his warmth. “I love you.”
He combs his fingers through my hair. “I love you, Cutlass.”
* * *
“They live here?” Hannah asks, staring out my windshield at the apartment complex Mila and Evelyn live at. “How rich are they?”
“They had a manned gate,” Katie remarks. “I had no idea apartments had manned gates.”
“Me, either,” I admit.