The First Taste(28)

I gasp, overcome by how good he feels, how eager he is. His fingers tangle in my hair.

“God, this is heaven,” he breathes onto my neck. “Tight, hot heaven.”

I recover from my state of shock and meet his thrusts, taking all of him as deep as I can, moaning as he hits me the right way with each shove of his hips.

“Christ,” he bites out near my ear. “I’m going to come. So are you. I feel it.” He lifts up, propping himself on his hands. I wrap my legs around his waist right before he rears back and slams into me. I grab onto his unforgiving biceps as he f*cks his way to the finish line. All his muscles work together, and the anguish on his face turns me to putty. I dissolve into my orgasm like butter on hot toast, like how I imagine it’d feel to have my soul drift from my body. I barely register Andrew coming along with me, even though he growls loudly enough to wake my neighbors.



Andrew’s big, sweaty, spent body pins me to the mattress. I don’t move as we each catch our breath. As distant as I’d like to remain, I have the urge to touch his back, guide him down from his climax. I know better, though. This, in the moments when endorphins are flowing and everything feels good, is when bonds are formed, and neither of us can afford to take that chance.

Heavy on top of me, he heaves a sigh. “You kill me,” he says. “You literally f*cking kill me.”

I smile up at the ceiling and give in. I put my hand on the back of his shoulder.

“Mmm,” he moans right away. “That feels good.”

I massage him a little. “How’s this?”

“Perfect. Never stop.” He nuzzles my neck. “I’m crushing you.”

“No. I mean yes, but I don’t mind.”

“Good. I don’t think I can move. I might fall asleep here.”

I don’t want him to move. I’m sleepy. Sated. It’s been years since I’ve felt this comfortable. I’ve never had three orgasms in one day, much less in a matter of hours. Having Andrew on top of me should make me nervous, but it’s having the opposite effect—he’s safe. If Reggie were to walk in right now, I’d be protected.

Why did I think that?

It occurs to me that living in Reggie’s apartment, sleeping in the bed we used to share, has kept him on my mind more than I’d like to admit. There’s always a chance, however small, he could show up uninvited. No matter what I think, I’m not safe. Not even from Andrew. Getting too comfortable is a mistake I made with Reggie, and one I don’t want to make twice.

My chest tightens. I’m sweating, and not just because of our marathon f*cking. I try to breathe, but I can’t get a lungful. It was fine, playing around, but now that we’ve had enough sex to satisfy our libidos, there’s nothing left for us but emotionally dangerous territory. I push Andrew’s shoulders, but he doesn’t budge. “Andrew.”

“Hmm?”

“Get off,” I say. “Please get off.”

“Off?” I hear the drowsiness in his voice, but he rolls over onto his back.

I sit forward and breathe deeply before leaning over to my bedside table. Hands trembling, I manage to get a cigarette lit. With my first drag, I close my eyes and sigh.

“You smoke?” he asks.

“Of course. Not a lot, but this is New York after all.”

“Pass it.”

I look over my shoulder and give it to him.

“Fuck,” he says. “I forgot how good it is right after sex.”

“You quit?”

“Mostly, when we had Bell. I still do now and then, but only when she’s not around. And never in the house.”

I look forward again. “That’s why I don’t have kids, and I don’t want them.”

“Because you’d have to quit smoking?”

“Sacrifice. I sacrifice for work, but not for anything or anyone else. Not anymore.”

He touches my back, running a calloused, warm palm up my spine, and gives me the cigarette. “Come here.”

I almost do. I almost come when he calls. It would be so easy to curl up next to him, inhale his soapy skin, fall asleep in his arms. In the midst of a harrowing divorce from someone I thought I loved, it shouldn’t be this easy. How can good sex erase my memory so quickly? It can’t. I meant what I said—I don’t trust myself. “No.”

“If you’re going to fight me some more, at least cuddle with me while you do it.”

I take another drag of the cigarette and put it out. “You should go.”

After a few seconds of silence, he asks, “What?”

“You have to go.”

“Why? Because I want to hold you?”

“No. Well, yeah, I guess. That’s not in our arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” I hear the smile in his voice. “We didn’t exactly sign a contract.”

“Have you changed your mind?” I ask, looking at him over my shoulder. “Do you want this to turn into something more?”

He’s mid-yawn, but stops abruptly and shuts his mouth. His expression changes as he realizes I’m serious, and he sits up. “No. I don’t see how spending one night in the same bed means more.”

“It’s different for me. I’m a woman. I can’t turn it on and off as easily as you.”