Page 273 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“I’m so close, baby.”

Baby.My heart flutters when I hear it.

I push up because I’m about to have another orgasm. Our stars collide, sending us both barreling over the edge from light to dark and sinking into the abyss of the beautiful aftermath.

My cheek rests on the stone, the cold feeling good against my heated cheek. I’m finally dragged back into reality when he says, “Was it as good as you remember?”

His hands rub over my shoulder, the sweetest Harrison returned after a quick trip to the dark side. He helps me up, holding me upright until my balance returns.

Wrapping my arms around him, I rest against him, and say, “Better.”

And that’s why I made a pact with this man.

Because every time is better. And every time, I feel the utter joy and danger in being with a man who is such a selfless lover.Because how do you pick yourself up from that once he leaves?

16

Harrison

Catalina- Four and a half years ago . . .

I’ma bag of bones craving another hit—of her.

It’s more than attraction. Tatum’s quickly becoming an addiction. She wanted to shower, but I asked her to stay. There’s something earthy and sensual about giving our bodies to each other, losing control, and then lying in the aftermath of what we experienced together.

Leaning over, I kiss her back, both of her shoulder blades, and lick the space between and higher on her spine, leaving one last kiss on the back of her neck. Sweat and the salty air mixes, the taste an aphrodisiac. Our night has been more than I’ve ever had with anyone. I’m not even sure how we fit so much life into the last eight hours, but they’re the hours I’ll still be reminiscing about on my deathbed.

I drag my finger lightly over her skin, glistening in the moonlight, and then leave one more kiss because I’m not sure if I’ve kissed that spot already. “What if I want to call you?”

Tatum opens her eyes, a smile appearing. “Why would you want to do that?”

I can’t figure her out. The women I’ve had sex with always want more of my time, not less. Do I suck in bed?

Nah.That can’t be it.

The curtains billow in the breeze coming off the ocean, the sound of the waves heard through the open door to the balcony. Somewhere far off, music drifts through the air, though it barely reaches our ears. It’s another layer to set the scene, making memories that will stick with me.

It was funny—maybe quirky is a better word—when she had me agreeing to a pact. Now, there’s an unsettling in my gut that I’m not sure how to deal with. I slide down next to her, lying on my back, and turn to face her. “You might be the strangest girl I’ve ever met. You don’t want me to call or text. We skipped the foreplay and got right to the sex.”

“That’s a rhyme.”

“Oh no, you don’t. That’s cute, but I’m not letting you dodge this.”

“You’re cute,” she says, tapping my nose, trying to detour this conversation. I’ve noticed she has a knack for avoiding things she doesn’t want to talk about.

I tuck hair behind her ear. “I want to get to know you, Tate, but you make it hard.” I shouldn’t have phrased it that way—a perfect setup for jokes—but I try to keep us on topic. “Did I do something to upset you or?—?”

“No.” The answer is unhurried but to the point. “I’ve never had anyone question sex without strings.”

“Maybe they didn’t want more than that.”

Her grin slips away as a strong breeze blows over us. “What do you want me to say, Harrison, tell me and I’ll say it,” she says, her voice losing strength.

What is going on inside her head? What’s happened that I’m reaping the repercussions?

“I don’t want you to speak for me, to make me feel better. I want to hear what you want, what you need.”

She wiggles, her hand sliding down my bicep. “Is this a roundabout way to tell me that you want to have sex again?” That’s what it is with her—only physical.

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