Page 52 of One Day

I shake my head. “I can see you, gorgeous. You’re in that beautiful head of yours, freaking out over what-ifs that aren’t going to happen. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Swallowing, she nods her head before saying, “You can’t call me gorgeous.”

“I won’t if it makes you that uncomfortable,” I tell her, sliding my hands back until my fingers tangle in her hair. “But I need you to know just how true it is,” I say, leaning down until our lips are an inch apart. “And if you won’t let me tell you, I’m just going to have to show you.”

Her eyes brighten before she leans up and her fingers pull at the fabric of my shirt. “Show me.”

I brush my thumb under her jaw to tilt her head back and meet her lips in a bruising kiss. A whimper fills the room, her hands slipping under the hem of my top and over the waistband of my jeans. Her skin against mine adds fuel to the fire burning between us, the dip of her fingers along the elastic of my boxer sending us up in flames. My skin sizzles under her touch and the knowledge that, in this moment right here, she’s mine to have.

I want her in my veins.

I need her in every corner of my brain. Kissing down her neck, I find the spot behind her ear and suck gently on her skin. She arches into me, pulling her hands forward and sliding them up my chest. With each second, I can feel her anxiety melting away.

Moving my hands down to her waist, I lift her shirt up until my hands are on her exposed skin. She shifts forward, away from the sink, grinding her hips against my hardening length. Her lips find my neck, her fingers curl into my collar and pull it down to press her lips against the hollow of my throat.

“Sunny, you are driving me crazy.”

“Good,” she hums against my skin. “You are wearing too many clothes.”

I reach for the button of her jeans, ignoring the way she pushes her hands further up my sweater to try and get it off my body. “I could say the same to you.”

“We should change that,” she mumbles but trails off when my hand slips past the waistband of her underwear. I meet her lips again, groaning into her mouth when I feel just how wet she is. I don’t think I can ever be sick of this. Of her. “Walker,” she whimpers when my thumb finds her sensitive clit.

She’s no longer in her head, worried about what this might become. She’s with me now, enjoying it as thoroughly as I am. It fills me with the hope that this won’t end in the blink of an eye the way I thought it might only minutes ago. All it took was getting her out of the spiral of thoughts she was heading down. Reminding her just how good this can be. How good it will be.

“Walker, please,” she begs, moving her hips forward in search of more friction.

A smile curls up on my lips. “What?”

“You’re killing me.” She grinds against my hand, greedy to feel my fingers. Her hands come up to my bicep, holding me tighter as she fucks my fingers, taking what she needs from me. I lean forward, my free hand resting on the counter behind her to give her more leverage as we find a rhythm. “More,” she gasps, finding my lips amid her pleas. “I need more.”

“I don’t have a condom.”

Without pulling away from me, one of her hands leaves my arm and slips between us to dig something out of her front pocket. She smiles into the kiss before pulling away, holding up the silver foil between her two fingers for me to see. I pull my hand from her panties, earning myself a whimper in the process, and take it from her with a lifted brow.

“You always carry condoms around with you?” I ask, eyeing her when she reaches for my belt buckle.

I have to bite down on my lip to keep from chuckling. Sonya is an eager person. It’s part of who she is, but knowing she’s this eager to free my cock from the constraints of my jeans might just do me in. I’m harder than I’ve ever been, and she hasn’t even touched me yet.

“No, this is a new development,” she says, pulling my zipper down slowly. “Kind of handy though. I get why guys do it.”

I smile to myself and bring the wrapper to my mouth, tearing it open with my teeth as she frees my cock from my boxers. Her small hand wraps around my shaft, and her eyes focus on the arousal leaking from the tip. When she runs her thumb over it, spreading it across my length in a firm stroke, a moan falls from my mouth. I lean into her when her grip tightens.

“This new development,” I say when her hand slows, moving to put the condom on when she takes it and does it for me. “That just for me?”

She grins, sliding her hand up my shirt again, and this time not stopping until I’m forced to lift my arms and let her pull it off. It falls to the ground next to our feet and her lips press to the center of my chest, the glee in her eyes clear when she tilts her head back.

“Would you like that, Cowboy? Me carrying around condoms on the off chance you decide to fuck me?”

“Yeah, Sunny,” I say, my fingers tangling in her hair again to pull her forward. “You know I would. You’re just for me.”

She nods, her eyes simmering with heat.

Nothing is ever going to beat this overwhelming need to please her, to keep that look in her eyes—like maybe she might adore me—forever.

My hand slides up her shirt, pulling it up and over her head to drop on the floor with my shirt before sliding my hands into the back of her jeans and working them down her wide hips. Her hands join me to push them down when I swat them away, getting the fabric out of my way before turning her around.

“Hands on the counter.”

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