Page 64 of Take 2
And I prefer it that way. I don’t need to exist anymore. What can the world possibly have left for me?
The world may not care, but there’s a man here who has possibly ruined me for life, and I will be damned if he doesn’t get off.
I lace my fingers through his and struggle to find my voice. “Don’t hold back.”
His eyes meet mine for confirmation before he unleashes on me. I have to fuse with the mattress for how hard I’m pressed into it. My muscles shouldn’t work anymore, but they tighten around him again as he shudders, groans, and slumps forward, panting.
Despite being jelly, my leg manages to drop from his shoulder, and Preston collapses onto me. He buries his face in my neck, and I scratch his back in slow strokes.
His shoulder is salty and slick when I kiss it. “See? How stupid were we to avoid sex?”
A laugh rumbles through his chest and into mine. He rolls over, pulling me on top of him and making it considerably easier for me to breathe. “You were right. What made it perfect was you.” The words are delivered like a reluctant surrender but threaten to shift our dynamic anyway. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. Not when the teasing and play fighting give me life.
The energy to argue doesn’t exist in me. An eyeroll will suffice for now. I give him one slow, deep kiss, then slide down to lie next to him. “What would be perfect right now is a nap.”
Salt, sweat, and sex perfume us. I’d buy this fragrance as a candle. But that’s the pleasure fog clouding my brain. In my defense, that wasn’t just sex. That was the best sex I’ve had in … years? It seems sad, but the mental instant replay confirms it. Like, several years.
My dress is crumpled around my waist, and my bikini top hangs around my ribs. Preston’s thigh is pressed firmly between my legs, and the urge to squirm against him grips me. He wasn’t wrong about needing showers, but it’s more necessary now. So, I slink away from his sleeping form and go into the bathroom.
Sometimes, post-sex showers are like a reset button. Remove the evidence and pretend it never happened. Today, no amount of soap and hot water could wash away the feel of Preston’s skin on mine. Not that I’m complaining. When I close my eyes and tilt my head back to rinse out my hair, a laugh bubbles out of me. The feeling is something like waking up after getting way too drunk the night before and having memories pop back into my head. Except there’s no regret or embarrassment, just a giddy sense ofwow that happened.
“Care to share what’s so funny?”
Somehow, Preston’s voice doesn’t startle me. My eyes remain closed, and my smile widens. “Just that I had sex with my arch-nemesis.”
“Your insistence that we’re enemies with nothing to support it—”
“There are some things to support it.”
“… is really a testament to your stubbornness.”
I meet his eyes through the steamy glass shower door. A remark about how stubborn he is dies on my tongue. Holding eye contact while we’re both standing naked stirs me in all the right and wrong ways. I should invite him to join me—I think. Maybe not? Anyway, my throat has constricted, so I’m not sure I can.
“Can I join you?”
Oh, crap. Now. I’m the one overthinking. I nod and back up toward the wall of the shower. He steps in, and I’m instantly jealous of the water running down his body. His gaze flickers to my chest and back to my eyes. “Are you cold?”
I bite back a laugh. “That’s not why my nipples are perky.”
“But probably still true.” He grasps my hand and pulls me close. The rain showerhead is big, but for both of us to be under it, we have to press together. His arms wrap around me, and my heart takes off as I look up at him.
“Happy with your demand that I act instead of trying to script everything?” he asks.
“Mhmm.”
He bends down to kiss me, and if I thought my body was already in overdrive reacting to him, I underestimated the effect he could have. Blood rushes to all the places I yearn for him to touch, my heart’s pounding borders on painful, and butterflies seem to think my stomach is a club. I reach up to weave my fingers into his wet hair.
The heat of him and the water overwhelm me. The butterflies migrate to my head, and I pull back. My knees wobble. Stars won’t blink away, and Preston’s hold on me loosens, but his hands are still on my hips.
He says something, but it’s white noise.
I need to lie down.I reach around the shower door for a towel, but it blurs. “I—”
Preston lays a towel over me and runs his hands over it to dry me off. I’m on the bed.
But I was just in the—ugh.I drag my hand onto my face.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
