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I thought that my body was done—at least for the time being.
Because there was absolutely no way I could get off again.
I was too sensitive, too spent.
But as he worked his way in and out of my wetness, grazing my clit, that familiar tug began to trickle through me.
“I cannot believe it,” I moaned.
“And you doubted me.”
Had I said that? Out loud?
I couldn’t even remember.
All I could think about was that he’d brought me back to that place, and it was possessing every inch of me.
“I can feel it, Lily. I know how close you are.”
“Then, fuck me harder.” I shortened my grip around him. “Now!”
He gave me several pulses, shooting me higher, and I screamed, “Brady! Come!”
“Yes,” he growled. “Just what I wanted to hear.”
I didn’t think he could pound me any harder, and, shit, was I wrong.
“I’m going to fucking fill you,” he roared.
The two of us were tremoring in sync, our skin slick, our hands clutching whatever we could hold on to, our breaths mingling as our lips locked.
He knew just when to slow and exactly when to stop.
With both of us now still, our lips parted, but our faces stayed close.
“I’m giving you a small break,” he offered.
“And then onto round two?”
He chuckled. “If that’s what you want to call it.” He kissed my cheek. “But I think we could use a shower first.”
“Separate?”
He pulled me off the wall, and when he passed the bed, I knew he was carrying me into the bathroom. “And let you out of my arms? Fuck that.”
I was wrong; his confidence trumped his cockiness.
I didn’t want the awkwardness of a goodbye. I didn’t want to be tempted to give him my number or ask for his—something that couldn’t happen. I didn’t want there to be a conversation that would haunt me.
I couldn’t handle it.
Not now.
So, I waited until Brady was asleep, and I carefully slipped out of his bed and tiptoed over to the doorway, where he’d stripped off my clothes. His room was a suite with plenty of space between the bedroom and entryway; therefore, I was positive he wouldn’t hear me. But I still moved silently, getting myself dressed, and just before I turned the handle to exit, I went over to the table, where there was a pad of paper and a pen.
A note seemed silly. So did thanking him.
I decided to draw a heart and put my name beneath it.
