Page 55 of Broken Rivalry

I start moving a little faster, lengthening my strokes, and she raises her hips, meeting my hip movement.

My breath catches in my throat as she runs her hands down my back, grabbing my ass before hooking her right leg over my hip.

“Ethan, oh, that feels so good.” Her voice is a breathy murmur against my ear.

I grit my teeth, burying my face in her neck as my balls tighten. My thrusts turn erratic, and I know that I am only mere seconds from coming.

I curse myself. It’s too fast, I want to enjoy her body more, but all the pent-up desire, the tightness of her pussy, and her little whimpers of pleasure are too much, and I just hope that I will get another chance tonight to show her my endurance.

I hiss as she flexes her walls around my cock.

I lick her neck. “I’m about to come,” I grunt against her skin. “Touch yourself, beautiful. I want us—” I groan, and she reaches between our bodies while the only thought in my mind is trying not to succumb to the intense pleasure she’s giving me.

Suddenly, her hold around my hips tightens as her walls grip my length almost painfully, and I let go, calling her name as we come together, and the world around me fades away, leaving only the two of us, bound by feelings that had endured despite all the issues piling up on us.

In the quiet aftermath, as we lie entwined, our breaths mingling in the dim light of the room, I press a light kiss to her forehead. “Poppy,” I murmur, “thank you for trusting me.”

She nestles closer, her response a happy murmur. “Thank you for being you.”

The night fades into a peaceful sleep, our bodies wrapped around each other, and for the first time in a long time, I sense complete peace. Because this was not just sex; this was love. I made love to this woman and I intend to continue doing it until my last breath.

The peaceful cocoon of the morning is violently punctured by the insistent vibration of a phone. We’re a tangle of limbs and sheets, and every fiber of my being rebels against the idea of letting her go. But I do, reluctantly.

“Hello?” Poppy’s voice is a sleepy murmur.

Her body tenses, immediately alert. “Mom, is everything okay?” Her voice is a mix of concern and grogginess.

She slips out of bed, the phone cradled awkwardly between her shoulder and ear, frantically searching for her clothes. I do the same because whatever is happening, it’s my problem too. It’s her and I now. It always was, but now it’s even more real.

“Yes, no problem. I’ll call Eva.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes betray her worry.

“What’s going on?” I ask, but she’s already dialing another number, ignoring my question.

She speaks into the phone. “Hey. Mom’s car broke down on the way to Billy’s camp, and she has an important interview. Can I borrow Cherry Bomb? Just for a few hours.”

Her shoulders slump at Eva’s response. Without hesitation, I snatch the phone from her, “It’s okay, I’ll take her,” I assure Eva and hang up.

I scoop up my keys from the discarded pants on the floor. “Let’s go.”

She shakes her head, rooted to the spot in the middle of my room, a storm of emotions whirling in her eyes. “I can’t go with you. Mom won’t understand. I… I don’t even understand.” Her voice is a fragile whisper, teetering on the edge of tears.

My heart breaks; the sting of rejection is sharp and unexpected, especially after the intimacy we shared.

I toss her my car keys. “Go. Deal with this. I’ll get a ride to the stadium with Liam or Cole.”

She hesitates, her hand closing around the keys, but her feet remain planted. “I can’t do that,” she whispers.

“Poppy”—my voice is gentle but firm—“take the damn car.”

She nods, a silent tear escaping as she turns away. “I’ll bring it back soon.”

Before she can leave, I pull her back, sealing a promise with a passionate kiss. “I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Yes,” she breathes, and then she’s gone, leaving a void in her wake.

In the kitchen, the boys are already there, smirks plastered across their faces.

“Damn, Ethan, are you that bad in bed that she’s making a run for it?” Liam quips, his face deadpan.

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