I start to laugh, and then he’s kissing me again, so hard my head spins. His fingers graze over my slit, with a little moan when he feels how wet I am. He fumbles for a condom. Then he’s pushing inside me, as far as he can possibly go.
I gasp, clutching him. I don’t think any other man has ever felt this good, the way he fills me, the slow burn of friction as he eases back and thrusts in again.
His furious urgency from a moment ago has tempered now that we’re entwined. He pumps into my sex with slow, easy strokes, as if there’s no rush now that he’s gotten where he wanted to be. Gripping my hip, he leans in to kiss me. I run my hand up his neck and down into the V at the open collar of his shirt. His fingers trace around my nipple through my dress and then tug down the strap so they can dip under my bra to fondle me skin to skin. And all the while his cock keeps up that steady pace, in and out, with a torturous friction. I arch into him.
“What do you want?” he says against my lips.
A noise of frustration escapes me. “Fuck me. Fuck me so hard I see stars.”
He hums as he kisses my throat. “Still dreaming of intergalactic voyages,” he teases. He thrusts faster, pulling me tighter against him. His fingers dig into my thigh. I rock with his rhythm, biting my lip against a whimper. The blissful pressure inside me expands. My legs tremble. I wrap my arms around his neck and bow my head to his shoulder. More. More. The ache for release just seems to grow and grow with the pleasure sweeping through me.
He bucks into me even faster, his breath hot by my ear. One hand slides between us to press against my clit, and I moan. The sharp shot of pleasure tips me over the edge. I spiral off into another galaxy, the stars I begged for sparking behind my eyes. My pussy pulses around his rigid, perfect cock.
Will moans too. He jerks into me with a shudder. His arm slips around my waist as he stills, panting against my hair. Then he raises his hand to touch my cheek. He kisses me, so tenderly it sets off a different sort of ache inside my heart.
This is so easy, the way we fit. The way we know each other, even after all this time. Why can’t it stay like this?
Chapter Twenty-One
Will’s four o’clock is pending, so I can’t stick around his office much longer. After a few lingering kisses, we disentangle ourselves. I retrieve my panties from the floor and right the desk calendar we knocked over. “Glad you could squeeze me in.” I wink.
He smirks. “I think that’s my line.”
I smack his arm. “You’re awful. And also very, very good.” His shirt definitely needs smoothing, and not just because I love how the muscles in his chest flex as I run my hands over them. “After the afternoon I’ve had, I really needed that.”
Will’s smile fades. “What happened?”
“Oh, the internet started to blow up around one of my clients, but I managed to divert the explosion.”
“PR consultant as a demolitions expert? I wouldn’t have thought of the job that way.”
“You’d be surprised then.” I shake my head. “It’s all about stories. If people start spreading a negative one, you’ve got to shoot a positive story out there. One that’s more powerful, so people will want to be talking about it instead. It writes right over the bad stuff and they end up just remembering the good.”
“Hmmm.” Will steps closer again and trails his fingers up my arm. “Have we managed to write that jellyfish out of existence, or does that need a little more work?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it work,” I say slyly, but suddenly I can’t help thinking about the other stories between us. The real ones, my mistaken one. Has the time we’ve spent together this week been enough to write over all the past hurts and fears that were never really founded?
My pulse skips, but it’s mostly excitement, not nerves. Maybe it has. Maybe I could let myself think about more. No letters, no big confessions. I can be chill about us and still be open to this fling turning into something real.
If that’s a possibility Will would ever consider.
I turn to retrieve my purse. “So,” I say casually, “do you have much business in LA at all these days?”
Will shrugs. “Every now and then. Nothing major. I had a meeting with an architect there right before I came over here, which is why I was flying out of LAX.”
“I guess you still have contacts left over from the USC days. And friends, of course.”
This would be his opening to say that now there’ll also be me worth traveling there to see, if that’s even occurred to him.
But instead, he just looks away. “I catch up when I can, although as Trevor will tell you, it’s not often. I’m traveling too much for that.”
His voice is light, but I think his shoulders have tensed a little. The silence that settles between us feels awkward, and my heart sinks. So, no trips to LA on the agenda, not even to see me.
I try not to feel hurt. Why would he be interested in more? He’s outright told me he doesn’t have time for relationships. He hasn’t uttered a word about us seeing each other after we leave here. I should drop it.
I draw in a breath, trying to figure out how to set a course out of this awkwardness, and there’s a knock on the door. Time’s up.
“And back to the grindstone I go,” Will says. He gives me a little salute. “Until dinner.”
“You’d better be there,” I say, managing a smile. But the emotions inside me have gotten all twisted up. I hurry out and to the elevator before they can spill over.
I’ve been lying to myself. I don’t know how to do fling with Will. No matter how much I try to talk myself out of it, I care too much not to wish it could be more.
But fuck it. I’m in over my head already. We can have another fantastic night, maybe two. If this is what I’ve got, I’ll be damned if I don’t make the most of it.
The rehearsal dinner is really just a formality—it’s not as if Brooke’s and Trevor’s families haven’t already had tons of time to mingle over the week—but I definitely can’t complain. The restaurant staff have set up tables at the edge of the beach. Solar lanterns glow on each one and dangle from the nearby palapas. The salt breeze whets my appetite.
In more than one way. The smell and the crash of the waves reminds me of last night. I can’t help glancing at Will, who has descended from his office as promised. He shoots a flirty grin my way.
Brooke and Trevor are making the rounds, thanking everyone again for coming and confirming their stay has been good. All the guests are beaming, the chatter in the air warm, but Brooke is fidgeting with her hair. She twists one strand of it and then another around her index finger as she smiles and nods. It seems like any potential disaster has already been averted, and everything should be in order for tomorrow. But I guess it’s a lot easier to assume there’s no reason for nerves when it’s not my wedding we’re on the verge of.