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 look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
NOAH
School clings. The university walls chip away as the days pass and find homes inside my pores. And I'm readying for a grad degree that will afford me not just another few months of this, but two years.
I could be clinically insane.
The door clicks shut behind me as I step into the apartment, kicking off my shoes. The cold air of winter clings to my skin. It's quiet tonight. No Fox pacing or ranting about god knows what. No Jed muttering schematic theories about the federal government. 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. Nothing. Maybe Fox's off at some bar, drowning. Jed's probably with Mick. Since Cam's working late, there's no one else.
I exhale, feeling the weight of the day settle on my shoulders. The last undergrad classes drag on for centuries. I didn't even care enough to listen. Just nodded, threw out some lazy answer when the professor looked my way. A part of me's already checked out since I got my MA acceptance. Hell, most of me's already halfway gone.
Upstairs. That's where I want to be.
I shrug my coat onto a chair and head up, taking the stairs two at a time. The door to the loft creaks open. Warmth greets me—a soft, 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. 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 clings 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.
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? No, I haven't forgotten anything.
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 it—low, steady, a pulse I can't ever ignore.
