Page 70 of You, with a View

I could say it out loud, but I’d rather show him instead, so I reach up and grab his wrist.

He rolls off me, readjusting himself on his propped elbow. He doesn’t stop kissing me; in fact, it intensifies as his fingers skim over my collarbone, down my breast. He shapes it with his hand, runs his thumb over my nipple, tipping his hips against the side of my body with a groan. It’s a short detour to my stomach, where he stops, his pinky finger flirting with the waistband of my shorts.

“Here?” he asks. His smirk spreads across his mouth and mine, pressing into my lips.

“You’re an asshole,” I sigh, tortured. “Keepgoing.”

His fingers are long, and he barely has to move his hand for them to slip under the waistband of my shorts, stopping just shy of where I need him. “Here?”

“You talked a big game during that two fingers conversation, and you’re not living up to it.”

He laughs, quiet and unguarded. It’s so delicious I grip the hair at the nape of his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him deeply just as his fingers find the center of my need. They slip over me, then into me, and we both let out shaking groans. His thumb starts a torturous rhythm in tandem with the slow push and pull of his fingers. His tongue follows the same beat, sliding in against mine again and again.

He’s pushing against my hip in short thrusts while he works me, getting harder with every minute he continues to build the perfect pressure. He listens for my cues, circling his thumb faster when I start to ride his hand in earnest.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Mmm.” I grip his forearm as everything starts winding unbearably tight. “Can you come like this?”

“No, but it doesn’t—”

“It matters, Theo,” I say, my voice breaking. “Please. I need you to.”

His body jolts against mine, either from his name or my request. “God, okay,” he breathes out. “I—just let me get you there.”

The intense mix of his touch, of his promise, of us finally doing this, pushes me right to the edge. “I’m there—”

His voice shakes with a heady mix of restraint and excitement. “Fuck yes, Noelle.”

It’s him saying my name again, curving over me to kiss me deeply, that throws me into intense, explosive relief. I release the smallest cry, my thighs closing around his hand, shaking as he gasps into my mouth. He doesn’t stop, just slows his pace until I wind my fingers around his wrist, my kisses turning sloppy.

He sits up suddenly, pulling off his shirt. “I have to—”

I get a brief look at his broad chest before he puts the shirt down between us and lays back down, propped on his elbow again. He pushes down the waistband of his shorts, just past his hips so he can wrap a hand around himself. It’s so dark that I can’t see, but his mouth finds mine and a heady rush of lust interrupts my disappointment.

I feel the stroking bump of his hand against my hip and break off the kiss so I can bite at his jaw, replacing his hand with mine. His skin is hot, slick from his fingers in my body, from thepleasure he got touching me. He’s so hard it must hurt, and the sound he makes in the back of his throat when I tighten my grip tells me it does.

“Show me.”

He groans, his fingers curling over my knuckles, and he demonstrates what he needs, the pace and the pressure that will get him there. We do it together, quietly in this dark, strange room we’ve made ours.

“Kiss me,” he pleads after barely a minute. “Please.”

I run my tongue over his bottom lip and he gasps, our pace stuttering, then speeding up. He catches my lips, kissing me deeply before pulling back to pant against the corner of my mouth, my cheek. His other hand wraps into my hair, grips it as he whispers a softfuckand pulses onto my skin and the shirt beneath us.

“That’s it.” I echo his encouragement from earlier, and he wheezes out a laughing groan, our strokes getting slower and longer, his forehead dropping against mine.

We’re both shaking by the time he finishes. Theo’s warm breath escapes his mouth in bursts, his heart pounding in his chest pressed against my arm. Something deeper than pleasure sinks into me when his lips press against my temple, his fingers loosening their hold on my hair.

“That...” he murmurs, “...was my favorite shirt.”

I turn my face into his chest, shaking with laughter. It’s the last thing I expect, but the first thing I need. It detonates any potential awkwardness before it can build. I keep my nose and mouth buried against his shivering skin while he uses his shirt to wipe my hip and stomach. I don’t want to move. Ever.

When he’s done, Theo’s arms circle me. I shift onto my side, sinking back into the cradle of his body. He lays his thigh over mine, pressing a trail of kisses against my shoulder, up the slope ofmy neck. Our fingers tangle together against my stomach, and I sink into the quiet connection of the moment. We’ve never touched like any of this, but it’s this right here that makes me ache the most.

“Noelle,” Theo whispers.

“Mmm.”

---