He chuckles. “You’re out of hand tonight.” Sitting up just by using those impeccable ab muscles, he kisses me. “And I like that, too.” He takes my hand and kisses my palm before lowering it between us. With a lift of his legs, I slip back enough to expose his erection. Placing my hand over him, he covers mine and starts rubbing. With his eyes set on mine, he asks, “You like that, babe?”
I nod, a knot lumped in my throat before I can swallow it down. Leaving me to feel the length and girth as he slides his hands over my biceps and shoulders. Then he moves up my neck and into my hair with his lips following right behind. The tip of his nose toys with my earlobe when he whispers, “I want to be inside you.”
With a quickening pulse, I harness the power he’s given me and roll my head to the side, causing our cheeks to brush against each other. “I want you inside me.” I lift off and get to my knees on either side of him. Reaching around my back, I unclasp my bra, letting the elastic loosen around me.
Cooper slides the straps over my shoulders, his attention captivated as if he’s unwrapping a precious gift. He kisses my collarbone, then each shoulder when my chest is revealed. But he doesn’t stare at my chest. Instead, he warms me by pulling me close and kissing my neck, always thinking of me first from my comfort to my pleasure.
I feel emboldened in his presence, in the way he lets me lead or retrieves control when I need it. He didn’t miss a beat with my ugly scar and treated it with the same care he handles the rest of me. He made it easy to forget my flaws and made me feel beautiful for the first time.
Resting back with my hands on the mattress, I sit with my breasts exposed, wanting his eyes to drink me in and approve.
Cooper Haywood doesn’t disappoint.
His breath staggers when he takes me in but not from nerves. “You’re beautiful, Story.” Running the tip of his finger over the bud of one breast and then the other, he says, “Like seeing the sun set for the first time over the bay or catching a dewdrop clinging to a rose petal early in the morning.” He looks up again. “I’m going to make you feel so good.”
He shifts me to the side and gets up to go to his coat. “By leaving me here alone?” I joke.
Digging in the pocket, he comes back to bed and drops a condom in front of me. “Trust me, I have no intention of leaving you alone tonight. Get naked.”
He’s so comfortable in his skin that he makes me envious of that freedom. But with him, I can feel that freedom. I do because of how we are together. It’s irrational to feel this good with someone you barely know, but we’re different. We don’t need years or months to feel the connection. We’re tasting it now.
We’re creating it, molding it, defining our own path.
He climbs in bed and holds the sheet up. “You coming?”
“Oh God, yes, I want to come again.” I scramble to my feet, tasting that freedom he’s given me, and start pulling my shorts down. He watches as his hand slips under the covers, and he adjusts his body. Licking his lips, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. Even though the lights in the kitchen are on and flooding the apartment, I don’t feel embarrassed. I love seeing him turned on from his pupils darkening to the way he slowly rubs himself unashamed in any way.
I want that. I want all of this with him morning, noon, and night—the talks in bed, the cuddling, the lunch and dinners together. The sex. The making love. Whatever we want this to be, I want all of it.
Totally bare, I climb back in bed and slip under the covers next to him. He leans over, already kissing along my jaw and a hand dipping under the covers to cup my vagina. His middle finger slides between my legs, and he drags it higher, bringing it to his lips. He sucks it in, then rubs it along my bottom lip. All I taste is him. Lying back, I let the flavor consume me. He makes me want to beg, to plead, so I say, “I want you to fill the emptiness.”
Cooper dips down and kisses my head before grabbing the condom and rolling it down his length. Neither nerves nor anxiety slips into the silence, and for that, I know this is right.
Popping onto his forearms, he hovers over me, basking in the reflection of my eyes like he can see the sunshine in them. Lowering his hand between us, he positions himself at my entrance. This will be good. Just like every other time with him. “Do we go slow?” I hate that I even ask. Just flow with my instincts, I remind myself.
“I don’t want slow with you, Story.” Our mouths mold together as he pushes forward. The pressure strikes, and my body burns as I acclimate. But I’ll burn in hell if it always feels this great.
Tipping my head back, I try to regulate my breathing and debate if I should try some technique. “Story?”
“Yes?” My eyes bolt open. I realize that he’s staring at me. Cooper Haywood is inside me. I inhale deeply and calm my racing thoughts.
“All good?”
“Yes, so good.”
Comfort warms the concern on his face, and he says, “You feel amazing.” Dropping his head to my shoulder, he starts moving slowly at first, but like his promise, he speeds up, plunging deep within me. His breath is hot on my neck, and his hands are gliding over my skin. He’s on top of me, in me, and everywhere all at once.
Spreading my legs wider, I rock my hips against each of his thrusts, meeting him hard in the middle. My body takes over, and as sweat starts to coat our bodies, sliding slick against each other, he whispers words of beauty and praise, sensual and naughty things. I should cling to each one in case I’m never privy to the inner workings of this man’s mind, but one captures my attention, causing me to slow down—orange tights.
I have to smile from the obscure things Cooper remembers, but I’m also flattered he noticed. I begin to relax and enjoy the act of being together. Running my hand into his hair, I say, “I never want this to end.” Spoken the moment before his fingers find my clit, lightning strikes, and I’m quick to fall apart.
While my body is suspended in crushing bliss, his thrusts become erratic. Pushing up with his hands, he stares into my eyes as he makes love to me. And then his own release seizes to the edges of his psyche. His breathing deepens, then accelerates as his body fucks mine—kissing me, fucking me, biting and licking my neck until he groans, “Fuck.”
The weight of the universe fills his sated body as he lies on top of me, our bodies still bonded, our breathing still unsteady. When my own breathing is ragged, he rolls off me, one arm falling wide and half hanging off the bed. The other rests between us, and he holds my hand.
Bringing it to his mouth, he kisses the back of my hand and then waits until I look at him. I ask, “What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a virgin?”
15
Story
“Why didn’t you tell me that Haywood Hall is the same Haywood as your family tree?”
I ask, holding the sheet up to my neck as we stare at each other.
The silent standoff extends until he rubs his eyes and sighs heavily. Nothing in his expression tells me he wants to broach this subject. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to toss that out of nowhere, but my defenses kicked into gear. He says, “Long story.”
“A long history as well. I’ve walked through the doors of that building a thousand times over the years and seen the plaque proudly displayed beside them. It dates back to 1902.”
Anger has never entered his eyes, but I see a heaviness clouding them. I start regretting bringing it up after we just had such an amazing time. “I wouldn’t have known other than how much you avoided the subject every time it was brought up.”
“And now I just confirmed it.” Resolve fills in the line between his brows, and he looks at the ceiling.
I’ve lost the heat of his closeness and the touch of his hand. The cold air from outside starts to sneak in through the crevices of the old brick building, and a chill runs up my spine. Not wanting to lose what we just shared, I try to go back in time, and say, “I thought you could tell.”
He looks at me again. “Tell what?”
“That I was a virgin.”
His eyes widen. “By looking at you?” Turning his body toward me again, he strokes his temple. “It doesn’t work like that.”