Page 85 of Close Contact
She stirred, her face turning to nuzzle mine, and I melted. Then, in a sleepy, barely-there mumble, she whispered,“Je veux rester ici pour toujours…”
My brows furrowed as I kissed her cheek. “What did you just say?”
She didn’t answer. Her breathing evened out again, already slipping back into sleep. I whispered the words again under my breath. “Je veux… rester ici… pour toujours.” I didn’t speak perfect French, but saying it back, I knew what she said.
I want to stay here forever.
Be still, my fucking heart.
I pressed my forehead to hers and let the ache wash over me. “Yeah,” I whispered. “Me too, love.” I tucked one arm under her head to wrap around her shoulders, and the other draped over her waist as we settled under the covers once more, curling around her as if that could somehow make time stop for a little longer. Her skin was smooth against me, and it took every ounce of willpower not to thrust my hips against her ass.
She gave a small, sleepy hum. “You’re warm,” she whispered, wiggling her ass into me and making my dick jump in response.
“You’re awake,” I muttered, unable to stop myself from running my hands over her.
“Mmm, I am now,” she said in that low, primal rasp I didn’t recognize as anything but hers.
“Good.” My voice cracked. She turned her head toward me, and I saw her face, all soft and feminine and unguarded. My chest splintered.
“I’ve got a flight to catch in a few hours,” she told me on a yawn, covering her mouth.
My heart clenched. I knew what that meant: we’d be apart again, hopefully staying in the same hotel, but different call times and pretending we were nothing more than rivals with good PR chemistry.
“I hate that,” I muttered, voice low as I kissed her jaw. “Hate knowing you’re leaving this bed. Leaving me.”
Her hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through it. “I’ll see you in Barcelona, like, tomorrow.”
“It’s not soon enough.” I kissed her slowly, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She made the quietest little noise in the back of her throat before I pulled back to press a kiss to the pulse point under her ear, then again along her collarbone. “Just fly with me on my jet to Barcelona.”
She shivered. “You’re obsessed.”
“Fuck yeah, I am.” My hand slid around her throat,fingers splayed, not tight—just a reminder of who she belonged to—but I’d squeeze harder if she wanted me to. I knew she fucking loved that.“You’re mine, Aurélie. And I lose my fucking mind every time I look at you.”
She lifted her leg to rest it over my hip.
I nearly lost it.
Her thigh pressed against me, bare and warm, her skin still marked from the night before—faint bruises from where I’d held her too tight, scratched from the wall, bite marks I couldn’t bring myself to regret.
My cock throbbed between us, and she tilted her hips just slightly, grinding and searching for me.
“You’re playing with fire, mon amour,” I whispered against her shoulder.
“Maybe I want to burn.”
I groaned, sliding my hand down the back of her thigh, gripping hard as I ground against her heat. “You like that?” I whispered. “Knowing you’ve got me by the throat, too?”
She nodded, breathless, and I squeezed just enough to make her eyes flutter.
I didn’t slide inside her right away. Inuzzled. Iworshipped. I kissed her shoulder like it was sacred. My hand trailed down to her waist, her hips, gripping tight.
“I want to ruin you slowly,” I rasped. “Make you miss your meetings. Make you call your team and say you’re too fucking sore to walk.”
“Callum—”
“Shh,” I whispered, kissing her again. “Let me feel you one more time. Let me make you shake before you go.”
She reached for me, and that was all I needed. I pulled her flush against me, curled behind her, and slid into her from the side with a low groan.
