Page 110 of The Love of My Next Life
“Wait,” he says. “Come upstairs with me.”
I cock my head to the side. “You got a room?”
He nods slowly.
“...For us?”
He smirks and shrugs. I glance over his shoulder. Claire, Josh, and Eric are gone.
Even though every single ounce of sense in my body is screaming NO, I say yes anyway. I’m an idiot, and I’m obsessed with him, and it’s been so, so long.
The moment the elevator doors shut, he pulls me to him and kisses me. It’s everything I’ve been missing, and when his tongue sweeps over mine, I want to cry with relief. I don’t want it to end. He pushes me up against the elevator wall and drags his hands down my body, moving his lips from my mouth to my neck and biting at the sensitive spot that always makes me crazy. I moan and slide my hands into his suit jacket, then down the back of his pants.
The ding of the elevator makes us break apart quickly, and Macon laughs when he realizes we’re at his floor. He grabs my hand with a mischievous grin, and we run down the hall, stopping once we’re in front of his room. He turns and kisses me once more, this one slow and deep, before swiping his keycard over the lock and pulling me inside.
He closes the door behind us. I kick off my heels and immediately pull his suit jacket down his arms.
“Did you get this to match my dress,” I ask, tossing the jacket on the desk along the wall. He bites his lip in a way that makes my knees weak, then shrugs. I smirk, then reach behind my back and pull the zipper down, letting my dress fall and pool on the floor at my feet.
His eyes widen and he swallows hard. It makes my cheeks and chest heat, and I have to press my thighs together as his gaze rakes down my body.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasps. He reaches out his hand and trails his knuckles over my jaw, then down my neck and across my collarbone. My breaths grow ragged as he drags rough fingertips over the swell of my breasts, dipping lightly into the cups of my bra. “So fucking beautiful.”
He runs his hands down my sides, then walks his fingers along the lace trim of my panties. I close my eyes and drop my head back when he brushes his hand over my clit. Even through the thin panties, I can feel the rough pads of his fingertips. From drawing, I realize. Light callouses from gripping a pencil for hours.
“What do you want,Astrea?” he whispers, reaching behind me and palming my ass cheeks. He squeezes and groans. “What do you want?”
“Everything,” I breathe out. “I want everything.”
“Have you done that before?” He drops his lips to my neck, and it tickles the sensitive skin there as he speaks.
“Once.” I jerk my head in a small nod. “Like, a year ago.”
He bites lightly, and I gasp.
“Did you like it?” he asks, moving his lips to my collarbone.
I shrug, and he pauses. He pulls back and bounces his eyes between mine. He doesn’t ask. Just raises an eyebrow, and I blush.
“I just,” I whisper, then wrap my arms around my stomach, “I don’t think I was ready? I wasn’t exactly excited for it.”
He stiffens, and his voice slices through the air when he asks, “He forced you?”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, I wasn’t forced. I never said no or told him to stop or anything.”
“But did you sayyes? Did you tell him tokeepgoing?”
“No...”
He stands tall and wraps both hands around the back of my neck, gently rubbing his thumbs over the curve of my jaw.
“Then that’s not consent,” he says gruffly, then he smirks. “I’m not touching you until you’re enthusiastically begging for it.”
I bark out a laugh and roll my eyes, then he drops his hands and takes a step back. I watch in awe as he starts to unbutton his shirt, then shrugs it down his shoulders and onto the floor. I drag my eyes over his naked chest, and I’m close enough that I can finally see the tattoo on his pec. It’s a broken clock, cracked down the middle and without hands. And the script...
“We are homesick most for the places we have never known,” I whisper, reading the inked line out loud. I want to ask him about it. I want to know why, of all the lines, he chose that one, but he slides his belt out of his beltloops and my mouth goes dry.
Slowly, he undoes his pants and pulls down the zipper, the sound so loud it seems to echo off the walls and war with the sound of my rapid breathing. Then he pushes his pants down his muscular thighs and steps out of them, until he’s standing in front of me in only a pair of black boxer briefs.
