His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over. "I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me?"
My wild heart seeks his. "Yes."
For a long moment, I just feel his gaze. Then, his hands. They skim d...
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january 29th
N O A H
University chips away at my soul. But it's what I'm working toward. Now I'm readying for a master's degree that will afford me not just another few months of this, but two years. At least.
I could be clinically insane.
The apartment door clicks shut behind me as I step in, heeling off my shoes. The cold air of winter clings to my skin. It's quiet tonight. No Fox pacing. No Jed muttering. No barking. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of my steps against the marble.
I drop my bag by the kitchen island and glance around. Cam's working late. Again. I wish she were here tonight.
A part of me has checked out since I got my graduate school acceptance. Hell, most of me is already halfway gone—papers, plans, applications pulling me forward whether I'm ready or not.
I shrug my coat onto a chair and head up to the loft. The door to creaks open. Warmth greets me as a golden glow from the antique lamps scattered around, casting long shadows across the bookshelves. Scents of vanilla and coconut hit me as I step in, closing the door behind me.
My eyes land on the bed, and everything slows.
So Cam's not working tonight.
She's lying on her stomach, black lace stretched across her back, hips, and thighs like it was made for her. The delicate trappings cling to her curves, the sloping arch of her back leading to the perfect silhouette of her ass, a tease against the black sheets. Her dark curls spill like ink, wild and soft, framing her face.
She's sleeping, one arm is tucked beneath her head, the other sprawled lazily, her fingers falling off the edge of the bed. Charlie's tucked into her side, out of it.
She must've finally traded shifts. I'd been begging her to.
I lean against the doorframe for a second, just watching. Everything is... right. It's the settling feeling in my chest. The warmth of the room, the way the lamplight wraps around her—this is exactly where she's supposed to be.
I wonder what her plan was—because one more look around confirms there was a plan. There's a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries high up on my dresser and an unopened bottle of white wine on the side table.
Today's nothing special, is it?
A soft sigh escapes my girl, and her lips part slightly, her body shifting over the sheets. The lace moves with her, teasing more skin, the curve of her thighs, the dip of her waist. My mouth goes dry, and I feel that low, steady pulse I can't ignore.
I walk over, footsteps muffled by the carpet, and sit down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her or Charlie. My hand lifts before I can think better of it.
