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“Mmm,” Ali hummed, and Cornell’s body flinched when her tongue flicked across his neck. “Well, then it’s your turn to spin.”
“It’s actually yours,” he breathed out, fingertips gripping the plastic mat.
“I’m not sure I want to play this game anymore.” She moved her lips down to the edge of his shirt before pulling back and looking at him, her eyes dark, focused on his mouth. “There’s another game I kind of want to play.”
Suddenly, Ali wasn’t hovering above his thigh. She was straddling it, caging the muscle between her warm legs as it twitched in her grip. And when she slid herself closer to him, the friction brought a twitch from higher up. Her lips were so close, stealing whatever little bit of air Cornell tried to frantically inhale as his chest began to heave.
God damn.
It was the first time in weeks his body responded to her. But that didn’t mean his mind wasn’t trying to cool things down, flooding him with waves of anxiety—the feeling that it was wrong to want to touch her uninhibited, to kiss her and not care where it would lead, to lose himself deep inside of her, feel her come undone around him.
“Ali—”
“Don’t make me beg,” Ali said, the tip of her nose touching his. She pressed her mouth to his, not to kiss him but to whisper against his lips. “Forget the game. Forget everything else. Touch the spot where you want.”
Ass. Definitely ass.
Cornell gripped it tight and hard as his own hit the floor. Ali’s mouth moved frantically against his, pushing, prying it open, her tongue desperate to find his. And when it did, the rubbing, linking, and dancing pulled noises from each of them they hadn’t heard in so long that it felt like a welcome home party after a long time away.
Don’t fucking stop.
Ali writhed on top of him as his hands left her ass to roam across her body, touching, squeezing, trying desperately to cover every inch of her. Pulling her hands from his shoulders, Ali reached between them to yank her shirt over her head, and Cornell was grateful, not just for more access to her body, but because she was the one to do it.
Chest heaving, he pulled away from the kiss, holding her face. “You have to tell me—” Ali went to kiss him again, but Cornell held her face. “Ali—”
“Shut up,” Ali mumbled, meeting his mouth again. “Just touch me.”
And Cornell did—her smooth back and stomach with his hands, the beautiful slope of her neck and the sweet valley of her collarbone with his mouth. He continued to kiss along her shoulder, lowering her bra strap slowly, trying hard to notice if there was anything he might miss—a different breath, a shake of her body, anything that would tell him no without Ali saying it. But Ali said more with her body grinding against his, the way she pulled and grabbed at every part of Cornell she could get her hands on than her voice could ever say.
“Bedroom,” Cornell commanded as his tongue flicked across her collarbone. It had been too long. He wouldn’t have her on a plastic mat sticky with beer on the hard living room floor. And even though Cornell knew neither the location nor the mess would ever have stopped him before, it was too important of a moment.
A groan escaped his lips as Ali pushed off his lap with no objection like the throbbing between Cornell’s legs did as it screamed for her to return. He stood, following her, reaching out to hold onto her hips as they swayed down the hallway and into their bedroom, where he pulled Ali back against his body.
Cornell bent to return his mouth to her neck, one arm wrapping across Ali’s chest. A warmth spread across his chest—relief, a quelling of any and all anxiety that had leased space within him as an unwanted tenant living so deep in his body it felt like his soul was suffocating. But now, there was none of that, only a bubble of lust encompassing Cornell. He couldn’t see or feel anything but Ali, couldn’t focus on anything but how warm and smooth her skin was. Goosebumps fluttered beneath his lips, and Cornell smiled into the smooth, delicate crook of her neck.
God, I love that. Show me more, baby.
His body finally relaxed as he pressed himself fully against her ass. It’s going to be fine, Cornell told himself as he raced his mouth back up to her ear, pulling at it with his teeth. His hand slid down the side of her body to the button of her jeans, chasing more warmth.
Show me how I make you feel.
Ali’s hands gripped his arm across her chest, the slightest tug slowing him to a pause. But it was her words that made Cornell slam on the brakes.
“Just… nothing from behind, okay?”
It was such a fast, strong blow to his body that Cornell nearly stumbled back when Ali turned in his arms, holding his hands to her waist as she faced him. And instead of focusing on the beauty of her nearly naked, the flush of her cheeks, the plump of her bottom lip swollen from wrestling his, all Cornell saw was everything from behind.
Graham on top of her.
Graham pushing himself against her.
The way he could have been the one to fracture her rib and not the airbag when her car struck the pole.
The way he might have slammed her head down, ripping open her forehead.
He saw it all.
Cornell had asked her to tell him when he needed to stop, but in that moment, as a montage of nightmares played on loop in his mind—the things of horror—he almost wished he hadn’t.
“Hey,” Ali said, reaching up to pull Cornell’s head back down to hers, but she stopped when she stepped flush against him, finding that the heat and throbbing had dissolved into soft, guilty nothingness between his legs, symbolizing just what little of a man Cornell felt in that moment.
“I… ” I can’t. Cornell couldn’t look at her as his racing heart began to make him dizzy. “I think I had too much to drink, I’m sorry.”
He watched as Ali’s hand slipped from between them, landing at her side. I’m so sorry, he wanted to cry and pull her to him. I’m so fucking sorry. I’ll never be sorry enough.
Ali stepped around him and into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
