Page 62 of Who's Saving You
“Stop fucking fighting me,” I grit out, sweat running down my back.
“Come on, you baby, show your cougar what you can do.” She lets out a laugh, which quickly turns into a wail as I bottom out in her.
And then we both break, hard and loud and breathless. We’re tangled in sweat and sheets, limbs locked, and still, she doesn’t stop pushing. As we lay there, trying to breathe like normal people again, she mutters, “I still think you’re overrated.”
I chuckle into her shoulder. “Please. You’re obsessed.”
She rolls her eyes, but her fingers are already tracing lazy circles on my chest.
The fire’s still there, but something’s shifted. Something permanent. I don’t say it, but I know we both feel it. This is more than just covering a story, being protected, and maybe, for once, we’re finally on the same side.
24
Noelle
I should have known. Everything this man does is done with accuracy and precision, so sex is just one more thing he’s good at.
We lie together, his large thigh wedged between mine, and he absentmindedly circles my nipple, his fingers grazing my breast. I didn’t think it was possible, but I’m ready to ride this guy again. I lean up on my elbow and say, "You're insatiable,” as I roll him over and straddle him.
He gives me that devilish grin and gets comfortable on his back, throwing one arm behind his head and grabbing my waist with his other. “Me? You’re the one climbing me like a goalpost right now.”
I brace my hands on his chest, rocking my hips over him, letting the rhythm build between us slowly. I won’t admit I’m trying to savor every intimate feeling before it’slost to the animalistic need, or worse, to the daylight. As if reading my mind, his fingers curl around my hip tighter, like he’s trying to hold me here forever.
“You’re different when no one’s watching,” I murmur, leaning forward, letting my lips brush his jawline.
“Yeah? You like this version of me?”
“I don’t know,” I tease, rubbing my hands over his chest, down to his tight abs, and back again, all while working my hips in a slow circular motion. “He feels kind of dangerous.”
He grabs my waist with both hands and flips me to my back, as he settles over me. I let out a surprised laugh, and he hovers above me, his gaze burning. “He is.”
Our mouths crash together again, deeper and with more passion. But this isn’t lust, not specifically. This is weeks of lingering looks, baited comments, and fear of both the unknown and the known.
He breaks the kiss long enough to snatch another condom from the bedside table, rolling it on with efficiency. With a shaky breath, I say, “This changes things.”
Nik nods slowly, pressing his forehead to mine. “Yeah.”
“Are we going to talk about it?”
“Not right now.” His lips find the hollow of my throat, then find the inside of my wrist as he pulls my arm to him. His teeth mark my breasts, then soothe the sting with his tongue as he works his way over my body, nibbling my ribs, massaging my thighs, sliding his tongue through my pussy once more. It’s an act of worship, and it’s fucking addictive.
I exhale a light, unguarded laugh, the feeling so overwhelming I don’t know what to do with myself. “God, you’re such a saint when you want to be.”
He looks up at me with fire in his eyes. “Good thing I know how to fucklike a sinner.”
He kisses me again, and something shifts as he slides inside. The frantic edge gives way to something deeper, something more patient and intimate, like he’s memorizing my every reaction, my every breath, every part of me he never thought he’d get to touch. And for just a moment, in that quiet hotel room, the world outside fades away. There are no headlines, no games to win, no bets to chase.
It’s just him and me. We were always going to crash into each other, and now, neither of us wants to let it go. But where do we go from here, and can we make it outside of this room?
25
Nik
Slowly opening my eyes to the sunlight streaming through the blinds, I see Noelle curled into my side, her bare back pressed against my chest, and her hair a mess on the pillow. The sheets are pooled around our waist, and I get a good look at those perfect breasts that I had in my mouth and hands last night. I inhale deeply, the room smelling of sex and her,us, and if I’m not careful, I’ll be rolling her over and taking what I need again.
Her breathing is even and steady. She's peaceful for once—not on edge, not looking for a fight—just quiet and serene, lying next to me. My arm is slung over her, and I slowly drag my fingertips over the dip in her waist and cup her breast, smoothing my thumb over her nipple. It hardens before my eyes, and I can still feel every bit of last night. The way she arched into me, the way she whisperedmy name, the way she didn’t whisper my name, and the way she gave herself over to me, like the match we are.
She stirs, groaning at my touch. Her hand covers mine as I hold her breast, and with a raspy voice says, “Tell me I didn’t sleep with a football player.”
