Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
My fingers dig into his back and he cups my backside, lifting me off the ground. I’ve never actually had anyone lift me and hold me like this, and while part of me worries we’re destroying his legs, I can’t seem to care all that much. Not when he’s pulling me down on top of him and thrusting into me at the same time. Every drive and pump is another explosion of sensations.
At some point, he rotates and leans against the door and we end up on the ground with me straddling him, me rocking on top of him, his eyes all over me, his mouth suckling my nipple. I barely know my own name when my body quakes on top of him and now know what the elusive orgasm during sex is. This is it.
He quakes beneath me, moaning low and deep, pressing me down against him, even as my body trembles on top of his.
I collapse on top of him, face buried in his neck, both of us panting. When we finally start to come down from what just happened, he laughs and I lean back to look down at him. “Why are you laughing?”
“I don’t know if I’d call that laughing. More rejoicing. Now you can’t tell me we can’t cross this line. It’s crossed. We’re here now. There’s no turning back, Alana.”
He’s right. There’s not. I expected that to feel a whole lot scarier than it does right now, but it doesn’t feel scary at all. But it might if I let myself start thinking about tomorrow.
Chapter Twelve
Alana
Damion carries me to the bathroom, and I end up in one of his T-shirts. It’s actually not the first time I’ve worn one of his shirts, either. There were plenty of times we were at his pool in his backyard, and I’d steal his shirt to cover up. But this feels different. I’m naked under the shirt when I never was before. And I’m in his apartment. And he was just inside me.
That is about as surreal as it gets.
What’s even more surreal is feeling absolutely one hundred percent comfortable with him after we just had sex. It’s like…well, it’s just us, the grown-up version of us. Two best friends who used to live next door to each other. Only it’s not that simple. It’s really quite complicated. He’s Damion West, king of Wall Street, or future king of Wall Street. The expectations of who and what he will be in the future are a heavy weight he felt even as a teen.
I know this because we talked about it on more than one occasion.
We end up on the couch—him in his pants and me in his shirt—with a bottle of wine and two glasses in front of us.
“The intent was for this to come first,” he assures me, filling my glass. “It’s a blend. It’s smooth. I think you’ll like it.”
“When did you become a wine expert?”
“I’ve spent the past few years meeting my father’s expectations, which include being appropriately cultured.” He tops off his glass and sets the bottle down. “As much as I hate that bastard half the time, I have to admit he wasn’t wrong about the usefulness of knowledge. The kind you don’t learn in school. People like it when you know about things that are important to them.”
“That seems like something I should pay more attention to myself.”
“You’re going to law school. What wine to pair with red meat is probably low on your list of must-know information, at least right now.” He hands me my glass. “Try it. See if you like it. If not, I can open a different bottle.”
I accept the glass and our fingers brush as they have a million times in the past, but it’s different now. We’re different now. There’s a charge that zips through my entire body. I’m ultra-sensitive to his touch. And there’s no going back. We’re in another place together, though I’m not even sure what that means, if anything.
“How did you know I’m going to law school?”
“I heard about it at the social tonight. The right people are impressed with you. You’ve done well by yourself and your family.”
He heard tonight.
There is a zig zag of a sharp emotion in my belly. He didn’t know before tonight because we haven’t spoken in three years. I could start spiraling right now, oh, so easily, I could, but I nip my emotions. I smash the place where my thoughts are going. I went into this night knowing it was probably the end of us. I need to live in the moment, as if this is a one-night stand. And it probably is.
I sip the wine and allow the rich berry taste to swirl around on my tongue while Damion watches me with keen attention. “I like it,” I say. “It’s very good.”