Page 114 of The Pact

“Really?” she asks, disbelief heavy in her voice.

Pulling back from her, I stare deep into her eyes. “Of course. You’re my perfect girl, Thea. Always have been.” She leans in and kisses me, but I don’t miss the slight tremble running through her. Those words are important to her.

Chest to chest, I feel the stir of electricity between us. The air is charged with something I’ve never felt before.

“Sutton,” she moans out.

She feels it too. “I know, baby.” I kiss her longingly. All the years apart have led us to this one moment where we’re finally complete.

I thrust into her, fast and deep. Then again. And again.

It doesn’t take long for her to get close, although I’m not ready to give her another release. Slowing, I pull almost all the way out of her, then drive my hips into her. We’re both dancing between pleasure and agony. I don’t want this to end, but my teasing can’t last forever.

Dipping my head, I pull her peaked nipple into my mouth, letting my teeth graze her soft skin. I can’t take the slowness any longer. I want her screaming my name.

Kissing up her neck, I drive my cock into her hard and fast. Her eyes meet mine and she flicks her tongue over my bottom lip before taking it between her teeth. I return the favor, never letting up on slamming into her body.

Thea’s hand drifts between us, finding her clit. I hold from finishing. I won’t go until she does. Just as I think it, she’s coming again, moaning my name repeatedly. Her pussy clamps around my cock. I can’t hold off anymore.

I feel the familiar tightening in my balls as my body tenses.

She digs her nails into my shoulders and looks me in the eye. “Come for me, Sutton.”

My body obeys her command. Thrusting once more, I spill myself deep inside of her.

We hold each other limp and exhausted. I breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. I memorize the feel of her soft skin under my hands.

“I can’t believe that’s what I’ve been missing out on all these years.”

39

THEA

“Oh no,” I groan, throwing the covers off of me and running to the bathroom. It’s the fourth time today I’ve thrown up. It started a few days ago with a migraine that I chalked up to stress. Then the nausea and exhaustion came. Last night, it turned into full-blown abdominal pain and vomiting.

I couldn’t even go into work today, having to cancel the two clients I’d managed to book for boudoir sessions.

Laying on the cold tile of the bathroom, I’m disgusted that my cheek’s pressed to the floor. But I don’t have the energy to stand. My head is pounding and my whole body hurts. What deathly virus is destroying me? It’s probably from doing those family photoshoots with germy little kids.

“Hey, my love, I brought you some water.” I see Cole’s figure, tilted and towering, from the corner of my eye. “Let’s get you back in bed.” He helps me off the floor.

I’m thoroughly disgusting, yet Cole has been caring for me non-stop. He’s kept me hydrated and fed—well, as fed as I can be. Mostly, I eat broth and rice, although it’s hard to keep that down.

The only good thing to come out of all of this is that he hasn’t brought up his stay at home girlfriend offer again. I hope he’s forgotten about it or realized I’m not interested in that kind of life.

He grabs a damp washcloth from the nightstand and wipes my brow once I’m back in bed. “Thank you,” I say, laying a hand on his arm. “Wesley’s taking me to the doctor today. Hopefully, they can tell me what horrid thing has infected me and maybe I can get some meds.”

Cole’s brows pop up in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t know you had an appointment. You’ll get over this in a day or two. Are you sure you want to go out feeling like this?”

He’s so sweet. “Yes, I’m just going to have them swab for the flu and whatever else that’s going around. I won’t be gone long.” He nods and asks if I need anything else.

My appointment is in two hours, which means I can sleep for one before getting ready. It isn’t hard—my eyes are heavy and I quickly slip into the darkness.

The ringing pierces through the layers of sleep that weigh me down. I don’t want to answer it, but it feels like it won’t stop—that shrill sound becomes impossible to ignore.

I pry my eyes open and my hand slaps around on the nightstand a few times before landing on my phone. The number isn’t familiar, however, it’s local.

“Hello,” I mumble.

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