Chapter Fifteen
Amity
He carries me down the hall and lays me on the bed in my room. The light is on in the bathroom, creating a soft, warm glow. He stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at me. There’s something different in his eyes. It’s a subtle, inexplicable gentleness that hits me straight in the chest. It’s not any less intoxicating than when he smiles like a rogue. Just different.
My chest rises and falls as I look up at him. His body blocks most of the light, casting him in a halo of sorts. He is, without a doubt, the sexiest man I’ve ever encountered. But standing in my bedroom, looking at me with what might be best described as reverence, he’s also the most handsome.
The air shifts and I wonder if he’s thinking what I’m thinking. I’m curious if he’s considering that this might be the last time we’re together. Neither of us knows for certain what will happen tomorrow when we walk into the conference room. There’s no way to be sure what direction the Board will want to go or how we’ll feel about the situation if we are on the losing end of the decision. I don’t want to think about it. Not tonight. “Come here,” I say, crooking my finger towards him.
The mattress dips with his weight as he climbs on top of me. Caging me in with both hands, he holds himself a few inches above my face. “You’re beautiful, do you know that?” he asks.
“You’ve told me that before,” she whispers. “But every other time I get a kiss along with it.”
He leans down and presses the sweetest of kisses to my lips. The tenderness leaves my chest tight, my throat almost burning with an emotion I’m too scared to even attempt to name.
My legs curl around his back. I take his face in my hands, holding him in place while I kiss him.
He pulls back with a chuckle. “Will you stop?” he asks.
“Stop what?”
“Stop trying to be in control.”
“I like being in control.”
Instead of a quick retort, his gaze warms. Finally, after a few seconds of watching me play with his hair, he speaks. “Let me show you something tonight.”
“Show me what?” I ask, fighting the lump in my throat caused by his tone.
“Tonight, trust me. Trust me enough to put yourself in my hands and let me show you how I feel.”
“Carver . . .”
“Just,” he says, placing a kiss on my lips, “tonight.”
With a shaky breath, I open my mouth to tell him no. Instead, I hear the opposite slip into the air. “Okay.”
Before I can recant, he’s slipping my pants down my legs. As I remove my tank and bra, he’s ridding himself of his clothes. In a few short moments, he’s in bed next to me.
His cologne whips across my senses and I hope that when he leaves, I can still smell him on my sheets. It’s a scent I’ve come to love, to associate with feeling an excitement in my day. Being with Carver has turned into something more than enjoyable—and not just for the sex. For the way he makes me laugh. Smile. The way he makes me feel about myself.
It’s the oddest of things to feel about him in particular, the man I hated because of that very same fact. Maybe people do change as they get older, impacted by their experiences and choices. I don’t know. But I’m certain that the man watching me like I’m some kind of goddess is someone I dread losing.
He feathers a fingertip from the curve of my hip all the way up to my shoulder. “What’s your favorite way to be touched?” he asks.
“I’m not sure.”
“Isn’t that something you should know?”
“Maybe,” I say with a laugh. “Do you know your favorite way to be touched?”
“Absolutely.” He draws his fingertip over the top of my chest and to my nipple. Ever-so-lightly, he creates a circle, spiraling out from the center of my breast. I shiver. “I love it when you wrap your arms around my waist and look up at me. I also love it when you’re kissing me and you hold my face in your hands.”
I don’t know what to make of his answer. It’s not at all what I was expecting.
“But,” he says, “if you wanted to grab my cock right about now, I certainly wouldn’t object.”
Grinning, I put a hand on his shoulder and give it a shove. He falls onto his back. As he lands, I climb onto him, straddling his cock.
My bare pussy sits on top of his length, slipping on the wetness as I get situated. His eyes light up, his fingertips now digging almost painfully into my hips.
“That’s it,” I say, grinding my body down on his cock.
“That’s it what?”
“That.” I move again, swiveling my lower half in a slow, torturous circle. I can feel him parting my slit, the tip of his cock rubbing against my clit. “Damn it, that feels so, so good.”
He must agree because he guides my body, leading it in another circular motion. His fingers sink further into my sides.
“See how you’re holding me?” I close my eyes and focus on the sensations bursting through me.
“Yes.”
“See how you’re controlling me, but when I want to move like this . . .” I switch gears and move myself counter-clockwise on his body. “When I do that, you go with the flow and help make it feel just as good.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my favorite way to be touched.” I stop and bend down, hovering my lips over his. “My second way would require you being inside me.”
He captures my mouth with his, flipping me onto my back. “I have good news for you then. Tonight is going to be a night full of your favorites.”
As he slips inside me, he fills me with more than just his size. He fills a part of me with something much greater, much deeper—something I worry that when one of us walks away tomorrow, I’ll never get the chance to feel again.