Amour Amour (Aerial Ethereal #1)(102)

It’s weird—rooming here and not being in the circus. But aspiring to be. Maybe it’s why I enter the suite late every night.

One of the doors cracks open, a few down from Nikolai’s. I slow my pace, recognizing the voices before I see their bodies.

“Did someone piss in your Cheerios as a kid?” Timo asks, a smile in his light tone. “Come on, old man, stretch your mind that far.”

John backs into the hallway while Timo leans his shoulder on the door frame. “You’re only slightly amusing, you know. Actually, that’s giving you too much credit. You’re like two-percent amusing,” John says, surly as usual. “And half of what you say, I just start tuning out.”

“You forgot your hearing aid again?”

John looks as unamused as he claims to be. I pause mid-step, more than curious about the development of their relationship. And then John says, “You are by far the most annoying human in this hallway.” Then he tilts Timo’s chin and kisses him.

Timo reciprocates, his lips rising in a smile. Their bodies pull closer together, attracted more than their words let on.

John breaks away first and then kisses Timo’s forehead. “See you tomorrow.”

“If you need directions back here,” Timo says, “there’s this thing called Google maps on this thing called the internet.”

John flips him off.

Timo winks and then shuts the door.

The moment John spins around, he sees me and pauses like I caught him in a walk of shame. He is epically private about his sex life and diverts the topic when Camila and I bring it up. So I’m not surprised when he groans like I ruined his master stealth plan.

I immediately start laughing.

John shakes his head at me. “You—are just the bane of my existence.”

I bite my gums to try to control myself. “You consider everyone the bane of your existence.”

“Because everyone is horrible,” he refutes. “I have many banes.” He walks closer, and I can’t hold this one fact inside anymore.

“Hey, John, remember when you told me you fuck a Kotova and you go directly to hell?” My eyes dart from him and Timo’s closed door, the suggestion hopefully clear.

“I’m currently in hell.” He glowers. “I realize that. Thanks for reminding me, Thora.” I swear the corner of his lips curve upward as he passes me, unable to suppress the burgeoning happiness.

“You love it in hell, John?” I laugh into a bigger smile.

He spins around, walking backwards to the elevators, and he says, “All my friends are here. So it beats everywhere else.”

Friends. He admitted to having multiple friends. My cheeks hurt.

He turns around, back facing me, and waves. “Night, Thora. Keep making stupid decisions.”

“Night, John.” And he disappears around the corner.



*



I scrub the resin off my hands in Nik’s bathroom sink. About to take a shower.

He enters, leaning a hip against the counter. “I missed you coming in.”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He was asleep on the couch, ESPN on mute in the background. When the channel isn’t on reality television, Nikolai plays sports on cable, mostly football and MMA. My tastes—The Vampire Diaries, Bitten, Witches of East End and True Blood (RIP)—are outliers here. Still, I seem to fit in just fine.

Instead of talking, he stands behind me, his hands lowering to my waist. My heart double-skips, not immune to his advances, even living together now, even after we’ve run around the bases. He pulls my back into his chest, away from the sink.

My body heats. “I have…to…” My thoughts pop the moment he lowers his head to my neck, kissing me right there. A certain place throbs for more. Shower. You need to shower, Thora. “I smell.” Why did I just say that?

I feel him smile into my neck. “You smell fine to me.”

That’s what every girl loves to hear. Fine. Not like vanilla or roses or a fuckable scent. Fine is you’ll do for now. I rotate and put my hands on his chest. “I…would rather smell like soap.”

He stares down at me, his gaze raking my frame. “I’d rather fuck you.” And then he lifts me up, splitting my legs apart and setting me on the counter. I can’t combat him, not when his lips meet mine and his tongue skillfully slips into my mouth. It’s an eager, aggressive kiss that steals breath and puts me in his possession.

Yeah—that shower is not happening.

His movements are more rushed than usual, no slow build up. He practically tears off my shirt, my bra, shorts, panties, and he pulls off his shirt, steps out of his pants, all in between a make-out session that numbs my lips. I moan the minute his fingers graze the spot between my legs.

He covers my mouth with his palm—since we don’t live in this suite alone. I’ve found it hard to restrain noises. My mind wants to shut it down, but my body loves the climax too much, always on its own agenda.

He kneads my breast, and then pushes into me without hesitation. I shut my eyes tightly, the fullness great, but the pain…not that much. It’s less than it used to be, so I know in time, it’ll all go away. It’ll feel better.

He kisses me again, trying to distract me, trying to wrap me in more pleasure. I clutch his arms while he thrusts into me, harder than usual. I open my eyes, and he’s absorbing my body with that intensity, in the way we fit together. His cock sliding right inside—I buck up, a cry stuck in my throat.