Page 46 of Second to None

“Lee,” he said into my mouth, and I swallowed whatever other words might follow, stumbling back and dragging him with me. We bumped into a sleek console table, a lamp wobbling without falling. The brief flare of pain as the table edge connected with my hip faded into a background hum almost immediately. Irrelevant.

“Bedroom?” I muttered.

“Yeah.” His laugh was rough and breathless, made no actual sense in response to my question but for how it came out overwhelmed, like he needed this as much as I did. His lips were swollen already, spit-slick. “Behind you. Door’s open.”

He nudged me into motion, the gentle pressure at odds with the bruising grip he had on my waist. We tripped into the bedroom, all understated luxury—dark woods and soft lighting, furniture that didn’t demand attention but exuded wealth. A quick glance to orient myself, then I closed my eyes, heartbeat like thunder in my ears, like a rainstorm rolling in. His teeth trailed down my jaw, his breath hot. Jesus. I blinked down at him.

He raised his head and our eyes met. Somehow, everything went still for a beat.

Here we are.

“Is this…?” Cass trailed off, a hitch in his breath that made me reach out to frame his face. Fuck, he was beautiful. Always had been, but now… There were subtle differences to when we’d been younger—a quiet strength in the set of his jaw, a hint of stubble, a new maturity in his eyes. But the way he looked at me was the same. Open and waiting. Trusting.

“Yeah.” I leaned in for another kiss, slow and searching this time, the frantic haze lifted for something that ached in my chest and bones. “Yeah,” I repeated, the word shaped against his lips. “We are. If you’re in. If you want.”

“Yes,” he said, a near-whisper as though it held some kind of inescapable truth. “Levi, yes.”

Oh, thank God. Because I couldn’t imagine stepping back from him now, hated the thought of not being able to touch anymore—didn’t want to revive the distance that had stretched for too damn long.

I pushed him back onto the bed, felt like I was falling right along with him as I watched him sink into the plush duvet. He splayed his legs, obviously hard, damp hair a mess against the white sheets—sinful and real, nothing calculated about it.Mine, I thought and no, he wasn’t. But tonight, I could pretend.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. I kicked off my shoes before I draped myself over him, my thighs bracketing his hips, my knees pressing into the mattress. His hands slid up under my hoodie and T-shirt, painting a warm trail up the length of my spine. I dropped my forehead to his, and for a moment, we stayed just like that, breathing together.

This was us. This was how we’d used to be. Not those desperate, angry nights in the final year of the band, when we’d crashed into each other, all sharp edges and bruises—but before. Young and impossibly bright, so in love it felt like the world couldn’t touch us.

Yeah. Well.

“Too many clothes,” Cass murmured.

Right. I nodded, nose dragging along his, before I sat back to pull the hoodie and T-shirt over my head. He made no move to follow suit, just lay there watching me, and I resisted the urge to cross my arms in front of my chest. The faint draft of the air conditioning cooled the flush on my cheeks.

“Is this a party for one?” I asked, striving for confidence I didn’t feel. Maybe he noticed because his smile turned soft.

“It’s been years, Lee. Let me look my fill.”

“Goes both ways, you know?”

“Yeah, all right.” He raised himself up a little and grasped the hem of his T-shirt, got it tangled around his head. I reached out to help and tossed it aside, a chuckle easing the breathless weight in my stomach.

“Smooth, Monroe. You’d think a certified sex symbol would have better moves.”

“It’s called expectations versus reality.” His tone was light, but something about his expression didn’t sit quite right with me—an uncertain tilt to his mouth, almost imperceptible in the gentle wash of the bedside lamp. Hmm.

“Good thing I’m here for the reality.” I shifted to straddle him, pressingdown. He inhaled sharply, the tension in his face melting away even as his body arched under mine. I skimmed my palms along his stomach, mapping out the changes—the broader chest and firmer lines of his stomach, the small Lyra constellation inked into his skin. When I’d first caught sight of it, I’d read it as a betrayal that he’d gotten it without me. Now? Now I curved down to trace it with my tongue, mesmerised by the delicate lines.

‘A reminder. Of what it cost me—being too afraid to be true to myself.’

“Levi,” Cass said, low.

I hummed before I nipped at his skin, wondering what he’d look like with a love bite right next to the tattoo—a different kind of reminder.

“Levi,” he said again, more emphasis behind it. I raised my gaze, and he smiled at me, slow and luminous. My heart gave a dizzying lurch, and then the room tilted when he rolled us over, quickly kicked off his jeans and returned to my side. No underwear. I swallowed because—God, he’d always had a pretty cock. I’d just… forgotten, or maybe I hadn’t wanted to remember. Not massively long, but thick and nicely curved, his treasure trail neatly trimmed.

The first time I’d touched him was the same night he’d kissed me, stretched out on top of him on the sofa as the other boys wandered off to bed one by one, with variations of “Keep it down, will ya?” I’d been his first, and even then, everything raw and new, a part of me wanted to be his last.

His voice pulled me back to the present. “C’mon,” he said, tugging at my trousers. I helped him shove them down my thighs along with my pants. Any flicker of insecurity I might have felt at how I compared—it died when he sat back on his haunches, open wonder in the way he drank me in. It quieted something in me.

“Hi,” I said, smiling.

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