Page 35 of That Secret Something

With a jerk and a rumbling moan, she came, her legs convulsing underneath me. She gripped my waist, digging in her fingers, and I continued my circles on her, drawing out every ounce of pleasure. After a few moments, she stilled my hand, raising it to her mouth to kiss my fingers.

“Fucking hell,” she breathed. “I told you it wouldn’t take me long.”

She was right. I felt quite proud for eliciting that response from her so quickly. That could only be a good thing. Now I just wanted to make her feel like that all over again.

She collapsed back on the bed, stretching out her shaking legs. Her eyes met mine, crinkling at the edges, and she opened her arm. “Come here.”

I pressed myself against her naked chest, feeling her breathing, heavy and fast. She wrapped an arm around me, pushing our hot and sweaty bodies together. We lay like that for a while until our hearts fell into a steady rhythm.

“That was amazing,” I said, cringing at how lame that sounded outside my head.

But Rebecca tightened her arm around me. “It was.” Then she grabbed my arse and pulled me on top of her, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “But we’re not done yet. Don’t you remember what I said?”

I tried to recall and felt heat rise to my cheeks. I swallowed. “About having me in every place in this apartment?”

Her gaze drifted over my face. “Well remembered.”

“That might take a while.”

She gripped my waist, making me gasp, and adjusted me so I was straddling her thigh. A dangerous look shifted in her eyes. “I think we’ve got time.” She kissed me, her hands caressing my nipples and rippling goosebumps everywhere. I deepened the kiss, praying with every cell in my being that she was right.

I didn’t want to stop long enough to think about anything other than Rebecca in this moment—how when the night ended, she might never want to step foot in my room again. Because for this night, I had Rebecca Lawson between my bedsheets, looking back at me with those hypnotic green eyes, and nothing was going to ruin it.

Not time. Not guilt. And certainly not those alarm bells whirring in my brain, trying to warn my heart to pull away. Rebecca Lawson was mine for the night.

And I was all hers.

Fourteen

Rebecca Lawson was in my bed. I squeezed my eyes shut, and when they reopened, there she was, long brown hair cascading over the pillow, her naked chest clear below the duvet.

Rebecca Lawson was definitely in my bed. And this was not a dream.

I let my gaze drift over her features: the spatter of freckles across her nose, the soft curve of her cheeks, and the contrast with her strong jawline. She let out a little mumble, making me start, then rolled her head to the other side of the pillow. I exhaled, realising she was still under the spell of sleep.

What kind of things does Rebecca Lawson dream about?

Did she dream about flying? Or work? Or the endless parade of women through her bedroom? Did she fear Lily finding out about us as much as I did? Or did she fear something more common, like heights, or spiders, or having to walk under a ladder?

The image of Rebecca’s mouth over me, her tongue slicking back and forth, jumped into my mind. My stomach rolled. It had felt so good to touch her. Like food for my starving soul, which had ached to experience her for so long. Guilt quickly chased the feeling, followed by an emotion I was familiar with on a very close first-name basis: fear.

What did this mean now? Was that job done, a box ticked, and now Rebecca would slink off in search of her next lover?

My heart recoiled. How was I supposed to let this crush go after the way our bodies connected last night? Was that what casual people did? How was that possible? I’d had a taste, and now I didn’t want to stop.

I glanced over at the bedside table, finding it bare. I remembered my phone in the living room, forgotten on the floor.

I’ll have to google how casual hook-ups work later.

I let out a soft exhale, adjusting myself so I was resting on my side, careful not to squish my glasses. I’d never been able to watch her with such freedom before—and never up close. A part of me felt like I shouldn’t be watching. She was too soft, too vulnerable like this. Two words that rarely spring to mind when it came to Rebecca. Especially not after the way she touched me last night.

Rebecca grumbled again, and her eyes fluttered open. The green in them had softened, taking on a new wonderful colour that could only be described as dreamy.

“How long have you been creeping on me?” she mumbled.

“I haven’t.”

She lazily raised an eyebrow. “I just caught you red-handed.”

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