Nicky's POV
The silence after felt heavier than it should have or maybe it's his ears ringing.
Nicky lay on his back, chest still rising in uneven waves, staring at the ceiling as his mind spiraled. His skin buzzed where she'd touched him. And that look—her eyes dark while going down on him—was branded in his memory now.
She sat up, reaching for her glass of water, but before she could take it, he reached for her wrist, needing to feel her.
"El."
She turned.
And there it was again—that softness that shattered him.
His thumb brushed her skin. "Come here."
When she came back to him, when her body settled against his—he lost the last thread of restraint. He surged up, kissed her hard, fast, desperate.
His hands moved on their own, tracing every inch like they were starving. He kissed her neck, her chest, her breasts, sucking at her nipples until she writhed beneath him.
This was happening.
This was real.
He kissed lower, reverent now.
