finger over the hot, wet pleat of flesh between her thighs. Her eyes flutter closed.
“Open your eyes, Bristol,” I say huskily. “Look at me when I fuck you.”
When she looks at me, her hair like a dark river twisting behind her on my bed, my damn knees feel weak. That’s what Bristol does to me with one look. That’s how weak she renders me without even trying. Her eyes are the color of moonlight and her love glows like stars. My whole universe is right here, and I don’t want to leave her and go to New York when the time comes.
Restless arousal shudders through her while she waits, while I stare. I shake off worry and uncertainty, dropping to my knees on the bed and lifting her by the hips. The sound of her breath hitching when I push in, when I invade that sacred space, tightens my balls. She’s a tight, slippery tunnel, and after one stroke, I lose my mind. Body overtakes brain, a coup of instinct usurping reason. I push her knee farther back so I can go deeper. I twist our fingers together, pressed into the pillow by her head. I’m vaguely aware of Bristol moaning, of her tightening around me, of her coming again, the evidence of her pleasure spilling all over me, and then it’s building in me, drawing my balls tight, flexing the muscles of my abs.
My love erupts. It blows.
I’m a geyser, a constant flow until the unrelenting rhythm of my body slows into something gentler, something tender. We press together, and beneath me she is crushed silk. My hot flesh and hers are slickened with the rigor of our passion, the sweat that bathes our skin. I don’t know if it’s mine or if it’s hers, but this moment, this perfect glass-blown moment where our bodies unite and our souls intersect, this moment belongs to us.
Chapter 3
Bristol
I’VE SURVIVED A STORM.
That’s how I feel every time Grip makes love to me, like a hurricane swept through and instead of taking shelter, I stood in the eye of it, the powerful wind whipping over me. I begged it to lift me. I let it love me. And this, the moments after, when the city lights shine through Grip’s wide windows and play over our naked, sweat-slicked bodies, when Grip’s fingers trace my back, playing over the vertebrae like keys on a piano, this is the quiet after the storm.
“I pulled your hair.” Grip’s voice comes quiet, still slightly hoarse. I screamed his name. He shouted mine. Our throats are raw from passion. My scalp still prickles from his forceful tugs of my hair. It’s not quite pain, and in the moment, it felt good enough to make it worth it.
Grip works his fingers through the hair spilling onto his pillow until he reaches my scalp to soothe and massage.
“Did it hurt?” He leaves an offering of kisses between my shoulder
blades.
“No.” I lean back into his affection. “You know I love a rough fuck.”
He chuckles at my neck, his warm breath caressing the sensitive skin.
“Just making sure.”
He goes quiet again. We both do, for several long moments, where the only sound in the room is our breathing, and I swear I can hear his heartbeat . . . or maybe it’s mine. Maybe they’re the same, one not beating until the other does.
“I love sleeping with you.” I don’t say it to fill the quiet—we don’t need that. I just want him to know.
“Me, too. Every night. Every morning.” I hear him swallow, feel his fingers go still in my hair. “Bris, there’s something we need to talk about.”
Finally.
“I know.” I roll onto my back and turn my head to catch whatever the city lights and the moon can show me on his face.
“You know?” He searches my eyes the way I’m searching his. “What do you know?”
“Not what you need to talk to me about.” I pull the sheet up from my waist and tuck it under my arm. It’s not cold at all, but as our bodies cool, I shiver. “I could just tell something was bothering you today in the parking lot.”
He nods, inching close enough to drop a kiss between my eyebrows, then in the hair at my temple.
“Do you remember me talking about a book I read while I was on tour called Virus?”
“Are you kidding?” A smile turns up the corners of my mouth. “You read it like three times and said it changed your life. It’s