Page 99 of One Wrong Move

“This okay?”

“Yes,” he grinds out. “You’re having fun with this.”

I smile into the darkness. “I definitely am.”

He swallows. The sound is audible. I tease him for a while longer before returning to his shaft, quivering against his stomach. It’s such a delicious weight. Seductive. I didn’t realize I would miss sex, or miss touching a man like this, but I have.

I stroke him harder this time. Firmer. Nate’s breathing ratchets further, and I listen to it, to him, to the sound of my hand around him beneath the paisley-print bedcover. He sounds like he’s dying; and he sounds like he never wants me to stop.

“Talk to me,” I whisper.

He gives a low groan. “Harper, I don’t even remember my own fucking name right now.”

“Oh.”

“I need to… shit. I’m so close. Don’t stop, baby. Keep going… yes… Fuck.” He grabs his T-shirt and pulls it up to his neck, the movement disrupting the cover, and it’s just in time. He comes in pulses I can feel; his cock twitching, spurting up his stomach.

I continue to stroke him and listen to his pained groans until he goes listless beside me. His cock is still heavy in my hand, still shuddering slightly. I keep up my gentle caress, and Nate gives a hoarse laugh. Reaches down to pull my hand away, but softens the blow of rejection by twining his fingers with mine.

“Sensitive?” I ask.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He runs his free hand through his hair and sighs. “It’s a miracle I remembered the fucking T-shirt in the last second. We’re done with accidents for today. Stay here.”

He disappears into the bathroom, and I hear water running. Seconds later, he returns, and the mattress undulates yet again as he slips into place.

Nate doesn’t hesitate. Turns toward me immediately and settles behind me just as he had earlier, with his hand on my hip.

He’s not wearing a T-shirt at all this time. His torso is hot against my cooled back.

“Warm now?” he murmurs against my ear.

I close my eyes. Relax into the warm curve of his body, touching me from calf to elbow, and don’t think at all. “Yes,” I say.

It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep.

Harper

I wake up to a soft beam of sunlight on my skin. It takes me a few minutes to fully realize where I am, and why the cotton beneath my chin is slightly scratchier than the one at home. Why the bed is softer… and why I’m so warm.

I’m being held tightly by the large shape behind me.

His leg is between mine, and his arm is draped over my waist. Steady breaths fan my temple, and I close my eyes for a few seconds. It feels good to be held. Warm. Safe. I don’t know when it happened last… if it ever had. Not like this. Dean had never been a cuddler, and?—

Dean.

Nate. It’s Nate. Of course, it’s Nate. And last night, we had…

I blink at the pheasant statue on the nightstand. It matches the colors of the drapes. Nate made me come, and then I’d done the same for him. Under the covers and in the darkness.

Heat and mortification rise to my cheeks. I’m glad he’s asleep and I don’t have to face him yet.

He touched me as if he wanted to for ages, and like he enjoyed doing it the entire time. Not like there was a finish line to race toward or an end goal in mind.

I screw my eyes tightly shut and settle deeper into the cradle of his arms. Can we do that again? He is a bachelor. Has been for as long as I’ve known him. He’s also been linked to a few high-profile women, beautiful ones who have been on his arm at various events every once in a while. Of course he’s good at sex. Would it be so bad of me to enjoy him, too? For us to enjoy each other?

Nate’s breathing turns into a sigh, and he shifts, just slightly, bringing all of my focus to the distinct heaviness against my ass.

He’s hard again.

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