CHAPTER TWELVE
Claire
When I open the door for him, he’s leaning against the door frame and breathing hard.
“Did you run here?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah,” he answers breathlessly before rapidly stepping forward and taking my face in his hands. Our lips crash together, taking me completely off guard. He guides me back into the apartment, nudging the front door closed with his foot.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask him when he frees himself of my lips and begins to kiss down the side of my neck. His hands find there way beneath my shirt, gently caressing my skin.
“I went to see Vincent,” he explains.
I pull away slightly and look him in the eye. I freeze. There’s a hunger there, a hunger that has my heart pounding and knees a little weak. “What did you say?”
“Went to see Vincent.”
“Why? Oh, my God, you didn’t beat him, did you?”
He smiles at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling as the corners of his lips stretch from ear to ear. “No, baby, I didn’t beat him. But I wanted to. I wanted to talk to him about paying you more as his head chef.”
“But I–”
“I know, you turned it down.”
I blink, letting a beat pass between us. “You know? Did he tell you why I turned it down?”
“Yeah,” he says with a nod. He leans back in slowly to kiss me. I close my eyes, drinking in the details of how he tastes, how he feels with his strong arms around me. I let out a soft gasp when Laurence lifts me up off of the floor, carrying me in his arms towards the bedroom. I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips so that I don’t slip.
He places me down on the edge of my bed before lifting his own shirt up and off. He discards the piece of clothing onto the floor, along with his pants, shoes, and socks. He stands before me in nothing but his briefs. I lean forward, pressing my lips to his stomach, running my hands down the center of his back I relish in the heat of his skin that radiates off of his body’s surface, wondering how in the world I got so lucky.
“Claire,” he whispers, looking down at me and running a hand through my hair. “I meant what I said before.”
“What’s that?”
He leans over, pressing our foreheads together. “I want to make love to you.”
I went to melt into a puddle. His words have me feeling like putty. Laurence proceeds to help me get out of my clothes, taking his time as he studies the curves of my body. He plants kisses everywhere, on the palms of my hands, the insides of my elbows, the edge of my collar bone. My skin is tingling and alive with excitement. My clothes end up joining his on the floor, completely forgotten. He reaches around me to unclip my bra, which he then slides slowly off of my shoulders until I’m in nothing but my underwear. I once again have failed to coordinate, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Laurence doesn’t care. His pupils are blown wide, and he has me feeling like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.
Laurence kneels before me, kissing one of my breasts and teasing the nipple with the tip of his tongue. I let my head fall back as I enjoy the sensation. His hands explore my body, making their way to gently slip my underwear of. That, too, is forgotten somewhere in the messy pile. He gently parts my legs, dipping his head down to make excruciatingly unhurried work of my clit. He presses a steady hand against my stomach, instructing me to lie down. I do so without complaint.
If I hadn’t known that my neighbors were already all at work, I would have been a little embarrassed at the noises Laurence manages to draw out of me. He has me moaning, panting, groaning his name. Waves a pleasure surge through me, making my hips buck involuntarily into his touch. He knows exactly when to apply more pressure and when to hold back, teasing me senseless. Laurence occasionally pulls away to kiss the insides of my thighs, both of his strong hands holding me firmly by the hips. I repeat his name like a prayer. I’m dizzy and warm. His touch leaves me aching for so much more.
“Laurence,” I gasp for air.
“Yes, baby?”
“I love you.”
I know it’s not supposed to be something you really say when you’re having sex. Too many emotions, too many hormones running rampant. But the words feel right in my mouth. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that I love this handsome, kind, crazy perfectionist of a man between my knees. He looks up at me, but I don’t know what to expect. I worry for a split second that I’ll scare him away, that I’m coming off way too strong. But he doesn’t look surprised. His dark brown eyes are warm and loving. Laurence gets up off his knees and slips his briefs off. His length is fully erect and swollen, aching for attention.
He helps me move further back onto the bed and then crawl on top of me, arms on either side of me holding me up. I don’t feel trapped like I did with Vince back at his restaurant. Quite the opposite, actually. I feel safe here with Laurence. I know deep down that he would never hurt me, never force me to do anything that I don’t want to. He presses a sweet, gentle kiss to my cheek and leans down to whisper in my ear.
“I love you, too,” he says.
His words spark something in me. A huge wave of relief floods my chest. A part of me can’t believe it, like I’ve been dreaming this entire time. It’s a fantastic dream and I don’t want to wake up. I just want to remain here forever, locked in Laurence’s strong arms with his soft kisses and gentle words. I’m thoroughly aware of just how wet I am, and he must have noticed, too.
“Do you have a condom?” he asks me.
I point towards the nightstand. “In the drawer.”
“Stay still,” he orders. I do as he says. I’m not about to argue. A small part of me actually likes it when he tells me what to do. He’s in command, he’s in control, just like when we’re in the kitchen. He knows his place, and so do I.
I hear him shuffle over quickly, locating the tiny box inside the drawer that I have tucked away in the back corner. I can hear the crinkle of the wrapper, and before I know it, he’s back where he belongs between my legs. I run a distracted finger along his tattoo, tracing the outlines of the black ink. He lines himself up and slowly presses into me, taking his time as he kisses me on the lips. There’s no need to use any lubrication. I’m already unbelievably wet with need. I groan, feeling full and slightly overwhelmed by just how wonderful he makes me feel. I relish the fact that right now, I’m the center of his world. Everything else could go to hell, and I don’t think either of us would even mind. I don’t ever want this night to end. I don’t ever want him to go away. We’re pressed flush against each other, his hips slowly rocking back and forth, finding a rhythm that works for both of us.
He grunts with his movements, his voice deliciously low and rumbling. He mumbles my name over and over, leaving me breathless when his tongue explores the inside of my mouth. Laurence is simultaneously so close to me, and yet not close enough. He makes me feel warm and full, wanted and coming undone. We pick up in pace, a frantic want spurring us on. There’s a heat coiling in the pit of my stomach that’s demanding attention.
“Ah, fuck, Claire,” he practically whines. “You’re so hot. I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.”
I wrap my arms and legs around him in encouragement, rewarding him with unhindered access. I nibble at his ear lobe which draws out a rewarding moan from his throat. I stroke at his jaw, hovering just above that little scar that I’m always fascinated by. “Cum for me, baby,” I coo in his ear. I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s low and thick with sex and it seems to drive Laurence absolutely wild.
And as if on cue, he does. Laurence’s hips buck erratically with his climax, slowing as he rides out the waves of pleasure. His eyes are screwed shut, as if seeing my naked body would overload his senses. His brow is a little sweaty from the physical exertion, but he’s relaxed considerably against me. Laurence carefully slips out and inserts his fingers into me, unwilling to leave me unsatisfied. He presses hard in and out of me, the friction so terrifyingly sweet. He circles my clit with his thumb, applying steady pressure that builds the intense sensation that’s threatening to have me burst.
“Laurence,” I hiss, “Laurence, baby, I’m going to… Fuck.”
Before long, I’m shuddering hard against the explosive climax he gives me. I think I’m screaming his name, but I’m so dizzy that I can’t really recall. Laurence lies down beside me on the bed, wrapping me in his arms, whispering I love you into my hair over and over again. It’s only 2:13 in the afternoon, but we’re so exhausted and satiated that we doze off under the heat of the afternoon sun that streams into my bedroom through the crack in the curtains.