Chapter Seven
Gabby
We ride in silence the rest of the way to the hotel, which thankfully isn’t far. Colt doesn’t say anything else. His presence in the dorm had been unexpected, but he made up for any awkwardness with his joking when I met him in the lobby. “Not only am I my brother’s glorified errand boy,” he grumbled. “Now I’m picking up his dates too.”
Stopping in front of the hotel, he hops out and pulls my suitcase out of the trunk while Jonathan and I climb out of the back seat. With a bow, Colt sets my suitcase in front of me, gives his brother a mocking salute, and gets back behind the wheel to find a parking place.
I give Jonathan an amused look. “He seems to be having fun with this.”
“Yeah. Something like that.” Jonathan’s amusement is tinged with irritation as he looks at the brake lights of the sedan Colt’s driving before it pulls into traffic to go around to the parking garage. But then his eyes meet mine, and he pulls me against his body, wrapping his arms around me and letting out a contented sigh.
My arms go around his waist, squeezing him back as I snuggle into his chest, inhaling his warm scent. “The T-shirt I stole doesn’t smell like you anymore. I need a new one.”
A chuckle rumbles out of his chest under my ear. “Okay. We’ll have to trade, though. Otherwise I’ll run out of T-shirts if you steal a new one every time I see you.”
“You’d have to see me way more than planned for that to happen. I’m pretty sure you own more than three or four shirts.”
He gives me a squeeze and lets me go, threading his fingers through mine and grabbing the handle of my suitcase with the other hand. “Come on. We checked in already. Let’s get upstairs.”
He leads me through the lobby, the high wooden ceilings and rich red and gold upholstery on the groups of overstuffed chairs making everything look elegant and tasteful. But Jonathan doesn’t spare a glance for any of it, heading straight for the elevators. Once we’re inside, he jabs the button for the eighth floor, then pulls me in tight against his side, his arm wrapping around my waist.
My arm goes around his waist too, and I let out a sigh of contentment. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He looks down at me, his green eyes dark and full of emotion. “Me too.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “But we’re together now. Let’s make the most of the time we have.”
“Deal.” I know my smile is sad and small. Nothing like the wide smiles we both wore when I got in the car. But Monday will be here all too soon. I’ll have to go back to classes, and he’ll board a plane to leave. And I won’t see him for another month. Once again for a quick weekend. This year is going to suck.
“Hey.” Jonathan’s fingers lift my chin. “You said, ‘Deal.’ Making the most of the time we have means not worrying about how short it is or how soon it’ll end. It means being present here. Now. I’m here. We’re together. Don’t miss today by worrying about Monday.”
I narrow my eyes at him, trying to keep my mouth from pulling into a wider smile. “Sometimes the fact that you can read my mind sucks.”
He laughs, wrapping both arms around me and kissing me. But before that can go any further the elevator dings and the doors open. Jonathan turns me to the door, guiding me out and down the hall with a hand on the small of my back. Without ever letting go of me, he parks my suitcase, pulls the key card out of his pocket and unlocks the door.
Once we’re inside, he doesn’t push me against the door and ravage me like I expected. No, he lets go of my hand, dragging my suitcase all the way into the room, parking it at the foot of the king-sized bed. But when he turns, his gaze is predatory.
“What are you doing all the way over there, little diva?”
I lick my lips, taking in the way his biceps bulge against the sleeves of his T-shirt as he crosses his arms, his trim waist and narrow hips, the denim clinging to his thighs. “Looking at you.”
With a low sound of approval, he takes a step toward me. “Come here, Gabby.”
My steps are slow and deliberate as I cross the small space from the door to the foot of the bed. He’s too impatient, though, and he closes the distance between us, quick and graceful, one arm around my back, the other hand going under my hair so his fingers are against my scalp on the back of my head. He pulls me tight against him, his mouth claiming mine.
Not to be outdone, I immediately slip my hands under his shirt, raking my short nails over the muscles wrapping around his sides on my way to his back.
He shivers against me and nips my lower lip with his teeth. “Jesus, Gabby.”
I smile against his mouth. “Take your shirt off. Now.”
“Someone’s feeling bossy today,” he says with a smile. But his shirt comes off next, so he can call me bossy if he wants. As long as he does what I say.
“If you say so. I just want to feel your skin.”
His mouth is on mine again, but his hands pushing the sweater off my shoulders and pulling at the fabric of my top tell me he wants the same thing. I break the kiss and lift my arms, letting him strip off the top I’ve had on for less than half an hour. He tosses it over his shoulder, and I undo my own bra, letting it fall at our feet.
“Bed. Now.” His voice is little more than a growl. I give him a flirty smile and scoot back onto the bed, loving the feral look he gets when he’s this desperate for me. I feel the same way, though. Video sex is hot, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the real thing.
With his mouth on mine again, his tongue sweeping past my lips, tasting and dominating, he pushes me back on the bed. Once I’m flat, his mouth moves south, over my jaw, nipping at my neck, one kiss on my violin hickey, and I smile when I remember him telling me he was jealous my violin got to leave a mark on me and he didn’t.
He did, of course. Literally leaving a hickey on my thigh that day. And a permanent mark on my heart even before that. On my soul. On every facet of my life. There’s no going back from this.
His fingers tweak my nipples and his tongue soothes them one at a time. My nipples peak under his attention, sensitive and aroused, sending zings of electricity down my spine, causing heat to pool low in my belly and between my legs. I want friction, but I’m not getting any. Jonathan won’t even let me squeeze my thighs together, one of his big hands rubbing my inner thigh, pressing my legs apart. Not touching me where I want him to.
It’s my turn to growl. “You’re such a tease,” I pant.
He lifts his head and gives me a wicked smile. “You love it though.”
“Only when you follow through.”
His fingers brush over my mound. “I always follow through.” With that his hand slides under the waistband of my leggings, the stretchy fabric making it easy for him to get inside.
I let out a gasp as his fingers slide over my clit, making slow circles. I’m so wet that I’m sure there’s a spot on my leggings. Good thing I brought my suitcase. I’ll definitely need to change after this.
“I love that you’re so wet for me,” he whispers in my ear. “I need to taste you. I’m not sure one weekend will be enough to satisfy my craving for you, but I’ll do my best to try.”
His words make me arch into his hand, and I start pushing my leggings down, wanting to feel his tongue on my bare skin. “Oh my God. I want to taste you too.”
I moan in distress when his fingers leave my body, and he lets out a low chuckle. “It’s okay, Gabby. I’m just getting you naked.”
Flopping back on the bed, I lift my hips so he can peel the rest of my clothes off. “You better take your pants off too. I don’t want to stop for clothes again.”
“As you wish.”
I sit up to watch him finish stripping for me, sucking in a breath at this beautiful, talented, sexy man who’s all mine. He doesn’t waste any time, shoving down his jeans and boxer briefs together, and I force myself to wait to reach for him until he’s kicked them clear of his feet. Even his feet are sexy. It’s criminal.
He’s a little less chiseled now than he was a month ago, somewhere between how he looked when we met and how cut he was for his photo shoots. I know dieting for those was hard on him. And I’m glad he can relax about it now.
If I had to choose, I think this is my favorite look for him. I mean, it’s a close call. He’s hot no matter what. But this? With just enough definition that you can see his muscles ripple as he moves, but not so much that it feels like hugging a brick wall. It’s perfect.
I must make a little sound, because Jonathan smiles, rubbing a hand down his torso. “Like something you see?”
My eyes meet his, full of mischief, happiness, and love. “Oh, yeah.”
“Hmm. Me too.” He bends and kisses me as he settles next to me on the bed. The frantic pace of our first kissing has settled into something slower, easier, more us. His hands stroke over my bare skin, moving my hair behind my shoulder, running up and down. And I do the same to him, sliding my hand down his chest, over his torso and hip, down his thigh.
“I love you so much,” I whisper against his lips.
He makes a happy sound. “I love you too.” A quick kiss. “So much.” Then he lays back on the bed, his hands on my hips turning me to face his feet and guiding me to straddle him. “Come here. Let me taste you.”
“Like this? Really?” I allow him to place me where he wants, feeling awkward and shy, which isn’t something I’ve felt with Jonathan in a long time. He goes down on me all the time, so it’s not that. But I’m usually lying down. Once or twice I’ve been standing and he’s sunk to the floor in front of me. But straddling his face is new and weird.
“Really,” he says just before his fingers pull me open and his tongue makes contact with my clit.
“Oh my God!”
He chuckles against me, the vibration adding another dimension to the sensations.
He licks me, long and slow, like he’s letting me get used to doing this in this position. And it’s then I realize why he wants me like this, looking down the length of his body. Right at his cock, long and hard against his belly. I said I wanted to taste him too. This way we can both do it. Obviously. Ha.
When I reach for him and give him a squeeze, he lets out a little groan and rewards me with a flick of his tongue on my clit. So I decide to do the same to him, swiping the flat of my tongue across the wide head of his cock.
He responds by spearing his tongue into my opening, so I suck him in deep. A muffled, “Christ, Gabby,” comes from between my legs, one of his fingers replacing his tongue inside me. It’s my turn to moan as he flicks my clit again. His hips move, pushing him farther into my mouth. We’re all reactions and responses, neither of us leading or following anymore, reduced instead to a cycle of sensation and arousal.
It’s all I can do to focus on pumping him with my hand, sucking him, or licking him when his tongue is dancing where he knows I like it best, my clit between his lips, his finger rubbing me from the inside. And then I can’t focus on anything but the feelings he’s creating. Pulling my mouth away from him, I gasp in a breath. “Oh my God!”
But he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. Doesn’t dial back the intensity until my legs start shaking, and I can barely hold myself up, my inner muscles fluttering around his finger, and my orgasm exploding out of me with a cry.
As soon as I’ve come down, Jonathan gently rolls me onto my side where I sprawl on the bed. He sits up, grabbing a condom and rolling it on, not wasting a second before settling between my legs and thrusting inside me.
He lets out a groan, but doesn’t stop moving, pulling back and driving inside me again. “Oh God. This. You. I can’t—“ He shakes his head, his jaw flexing, his eyes never leaving mine as his hips keep up this punishing pace.
Even though he hasn’t articulated anything, I understand exactly what he means. This. Him. It’s everything. Our connection is what keeps us going, and being apart for weeks is like going through withdrawals. But no amount of detox makes me ache for him less. This is the only thing that makes it better, makes the world seem alright again.
So I wrap my legs around him, reaching up with my hands to pull his face to mine, pushing my tongue into his mouth as he pounds into me. If anything, that causes him to go faster, harder, and in almost no time, he grinds himself against me, shuddering as he comes.