Page 139 of Tangled Hearts
He rose and kissed her again, slow then fast, lining them up, sliding into her with a steady push that dragged a gasp from herthroat. He held her there, nose brushing hers, one hand cupping her jaw.
“Look at me,” he urged.
She did.
Their rhythm found them. No rush. No show. Just them. He shifted her leg higher, deeper, her nails marking his back while he drove into her with a focused kind of care, every stroke landing like he knew what she needed before she asked.
Her pussy clenched, the throb matching their rhythm.
She choked on her spit; it went down the wrong pipe when she tried to cry out.
“I got you,” he promised against her mouth, slow rolling his dick in her. “Breathe.”
Her body shook around him. Warmth flooding her limbs as she came, muffling a cry against his shoulder. He followed, grip tightening at her hip, jaw clenched, breath hot at her ear.
He didn’t collapse. He held her through it, kept them connected until her breathing evened out and her hand smoothed across his neck in slow strokes.
They laid back, still tangled in the sheets. He pulled the duvet over her and reached for the room service menu.
“You hungry again?” she smiled, voice lazy.
“Always.” She squeezed the cover around herself tighter. “For food,” she laughed, swatting his chest when he climbed on top of her.
“Both.” He kissed her forehead. “Pasta or burger?”
“Pasta. Extra parmesan.”
“Say less, pretty girl.”
He got out the bed to order and she made her way over to him by the window. She planted her cheek on his shoulder, watching as the city stretched below like a promise she didn’t have to force.
“I don’t know how to hold both,” she admitted, intrusive thoughts spilling out like word vomit. “What Ifeltfor him, what Ifeelfor you.”
“You don’t gotta solve it tonight,” he said. “Just be honest with me and be honest with yourself. I’ll handle the rest.”
“You sure?”
“I’m a forever type,” he replied, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “I can handle the middle… for a little while.”
The food showed up at the door. Cash slipped on sweatpants, grabbed the tray, and of course he tipped heavily.
He fed her the food in bed, watched her laugh when the parmesan fell on the sheets, then wiped it with a napkin like he actually cared about the mess. When she finished, he set the tray aside and pulled her back on top of him.
“Tomorrow’s crazy, pretty girl,” he warned.
This was only day one of Fashion Week. Each day, the shows got more hectic. He knew he was going to be pulled in so many different directions and wanted to give her a heads up.
“Good,” she murmured, kissing across his cheeks and jaw. “Let’s make it crazier.”
He laughed, flipping her under him again. His lips pressed down on hers, his palm never leaving her hip, holding her like he always did.
Noir giggled, wriggling beneath him. “Having sex on a balcony out of town is on my bucket list.”
Cash nuzzled into the curve of her neck, his breath hot against her skin. “Oh, yea? What else on the list? Let me see how many dreams I can knock off before I gotta give you back.”
Her eyes found his, lashes heavy. She slid her hands through his wild hair, pushing it back to study his face. “I know I should be getting myself together like Knyc,” she whispered, voice trembling with honesty, “but what if I don’t want you to give me back?”
His grin faltered, the weight of her words pushing through his chest.
