My response is a soft cry. I’ve been waiting for this feeling for seven years, this heat, this unbearable pleasure.
“Don’t stop,” I moan as he thrusts deep into me again and again. “Aidan!”
In reply, he picks up his pace, fucking me so deeply I can no longer tell where he ends and I begin. He lowers his head to place soft kisses on my breasts. His fingers dig into my waist and my thighs and I know there’ll be bruises, but I don’t care. I just want more of him, more of the pleasure only he can give me.
“Did you think of this?” His voice is a low growl. “Did you think of how good we were together?”
“Every day,” I moan. “Every damn day.”
“Fuck you, Liz.” He punctuates every word with a hard thrust of his hips. “Fuck you for coming back here.”
Pleasure builds inside me like an uncontrollable wave. “I couldn’t stay away,” I pant.
“Fuck. You. For. Leaving.” He bites out the words, his chest heaving, his eyes darkening almost to black. My head falls back as pleasure spreads through me in a warm tsunami. I cry out and my body tightens, bowing off the door. I slide against him as my body contracts over and over, my climax rocking me almost to oblivion.
I hear him grunt, feel him stiffen, feel his hands tighten around my thighs as he enters me so deep his balls press against me. Warmth explodes deep inside me as he comes.
We are both silent. Both breathing deeply, chests rising and falling, our hoarse breaths the only sounds in the room.
Then I hear my name escape his lips in a soft sigh.
“Liz.”
We stay motionless for a while, his body pressed against mine. I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in the crook of his neck. He smells of skin, sweat, sex, and faint cologne. I breathe deeply, taking him in. My nipples rub on the soft cotton of his shirt. My belly is pressed against the hard board of his, and his muscled thighs remain between my legs.
It’s perfect.
I kiss his neck and feel his chest rise. He turns his face to mine and slowly slides out of me. I smile languidly, pleasure still coursing through me.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“Hey.” He releases me, letting me slide to my feet. He holds me steady, which helps because my legs are still too shaky to stand on their own. I’m naked, but in no particular hurry to get dressed.
I watch him fix his pants, then his eyes return to my face. I wish he would say something, anything to make me feel like we are going somewhere from here, that we’ve moved past the animosity and into a place where we can work on us.
The silence continues.
What now, Aidan? my heart screams.
“You should get dressed,” he says without emotion. His eyes are on my breasts, and he makes no move to step out of the way so I can find the items of clothing he peeled off me earlier.
I pull in a breath. “I should, probably.”
He nods and lifts one finger to trace a line around my nipple. My eyes close.
What now?
“If I let you go, I am lost,” he murmurs, then cocks his head to one side. “Not quite accurate in our case, is it? If I let you in, I am lost.”
I shake my head, almost pleading. “I was lost when I let you go.”
He swallows visibly, then turns abruptly, picking up my top and my bra and handing them to me. “Here.”
I reach for them. What now?
“I wanted to leave,” I admit in a low voice. “Hollywood promised everything I wanted. Bigger, brighter, the kind of stardom I thought I deserved. I wanted it so badly, at least I thought I did, at the time.”
He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “But I didn’t want to leave you. It was confusing, how willing I was to give up dreams I’d had my whole life just to be with you. I knew if you tried to convince me to stay, or if we tried to make it work and the distance got between us, I’d choose you, and it scared me.”