Trade Me (Cyclone #1)(70)

He’s relentless and I’m so close to the edge. I slide my fingers through his hair, guiding, urging him on. I’m close, so close. Pleasure sweeps in, so undeniable. When I come, my hands clench against his scalp. I grit my teeth to keep from crying out, and the orgasm goes on and on and on in endless surges. And when the tide finally recedes, Blake lifts his head.

He gives me a self-satisfied grin. “My turn.”

“My second turn,” I tell him.

“That’s what I said.” He strips off his jeans and underwear in one smooth motion. His shirt comes off. He pulls me to my feet and takes off my shirt, undoes my bra.

Then he kisses me. We’re naked, skin to skin, and I can taste myself on his lips. I should be boneless with pleasure, but I can feel my desire rising.

His has already risen. I run my fingers down his length, feeling him, listening to the change of his breath. God, I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss this so much. I’m feeling too much, too much more than just the physical. Blake is an ache deep inside me.

“On all fours,” he whispers in my ear, and I comply.

I hear the wrinkle of a condom wrapper, feel his hands on my hips. Then there’s the brush of him against me from behind and the swell of want. He enters me, hard and sweet. I bite my lip, refusing to cry out.

“God, Tina.” His hand rests against my behind. “God. This is so f*cking good.”

It’s more than good. I can feel every stroke of him against my sensitive flesh, can feel the tension in his body as his thighs slap against mine. I take him, feeling him in me. Feeling the tide rise in both of us. My orgasm rises as his does; I crest just before he does. My throat feels hoarse from the effort of not screaming.

And then his thrusts get harder, firmer, faster. I feel a burst of heat as he comes, and I’m so sensitive by now that I moan.

He laughs. He’s breathing hard.

He pulls out. I turn to look at him—at his wide, blue eyes, his hair, tousled by my hands. I try. I try so hard not to care, not to want, not to love.

It’s too late. I’ve been lying to myself for weeks.

God, this is going to hurt.

19.

BLAKE

There are times when you find yourself in perfect harmony with another being. Like after you’ve taken a risk, faced your biggest fear, and found yourself blinking in the dust as a wall crumbles in front of you. Like after a perfect evening of constellation watching, followed by the best sex of your life.

It’s more than just a moment. The past and the future join hands in a clasp that cannot be loosened. My fingers trail through her hair. Our bodies tangle, warm with exertion, comfortable with each other.

She looks into my eyes. Tina isn’t smiling, and I know why—because she’s scared, because she’s feeling vulnerable. Because, like me, she doesn’t want this to end.

I lean in and find her lips with mine. I don’t know how this will work. I can’t see any details. The only thing I know for certain is that I’m holding her now and I don’t want to let go.

She looks up at me. The moon filters through the blinds, casting zebra stripes across her face. I don’t want to ruin this moment, don’t want her to pull away when I tell her the truth. But I can’t stay silent.

“Tina.” I lean in, pulling her close, and she comes to me. Her body is soft; she settles against me, her head resting against my shoulder in an act of complete trust.

There is no way I’m letting her go. Not today. Not tomorrow. Hell, no.

“We need to renegotiate.” My voice feels hoarse. I wait, searching for the right words, but they don’t come. The house is dark around us. I can hear the muted hum of a server in a nearby room, the occasional creak as the wood settles overhead. “Not just the end date of us—the existence of an end date at all. I don’t want to let this go. I don’t want to let us go.”

I can feel her muscles tense. But she doesn’t turn away.

“I don’t know how this will work,” I say. “But…it’s working now.”

Her hand clasps mine.

“I don’t want this to end,” I tell her. “I don’t want to walk away from you.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice is low. “I’m not good at taking risks, Blake, and you’re the biggest risk there is. I’m scared.”

I can’t tell her not to be scared. “I know,” I say. “But I think you’re wrong about the stars. There are no gods here. There are just mortals. There’s just you and me. We make our own light, and we can make it say anything we want.”

She turns away. And as she does, outside the edge of my consciousness, something registers. Something that draws me away from a moment that I didn’t think I could be drawn away from.

A chill runs down my spine. I don’t know what it is, why I give a quick shiver. I just know that something just changed—something big. There are no gods here.

“I don’t…I’m not sure,” Tina starts to say.

“Wait.” I set a finger on her lips. “Something is wrong.”

I hear another noise, this time coming clearly from downstairs: the shattering of glass. That, and then, a stark nothing.

It’s my dad. I can explain the noise. It’s well after midnight now, and despite his boasts earlier, he’s not finished yet. He was getting himself some coffee and he dropped a mug. It’s nothing.