I come so quickly I’m embarrassed.
“Shit! Sorry!” I gasp out, shaking.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks, between covering my face with kisses.
“I want you too much. It’s like a sickness.”
“I think I know the cure for that,” he says.
“What is it?”
“How about,” he says, “you roll over and I fuck you until you can’t see straight.”
God, the mouth on this man.
I oblige, and he growls as he pulls off my underwear, throws it on the floor, unzips himself, and slides into me.
It’s fast and hard and everything I need. It’s us, but with the advantage of experience. Urgent and rough, fueled by Seth’s filthy mouth and our insane need for each other, yet somehow still tender.
When it’s over we collapse down onto his pillows, still clothed and panting, and he pulls me close and spoons himself around me.
I can’t stop smiling.
“You are shockingly good at that,” I say.
“Shockingly? Do I not exude sexual prowess?”
“You’re very sexy,” I say honestly. “I’m just not used to nice boys who rail me senseless doggy-style in their childhood bedroom.”
“It’s usually mean boys who rail you in their childhood bedrooms?”
“Yep.”
He nibbles my ear. “No one should be mean to you.”
“What will you do if they are?”
“File frivolous lawsuits against them in civil court.”
I wrap my fingers through his. “That shouldn’t arouse me, but it does.”
“Oh yeah?” he murmurs. He presses himself against me, and he’s still hard.
I guess some things haven’t changed since high school.
“Yeah,” I say, hitching my hips to rub against his erection.
He rolls over so he’s on top of me, propped up on his forearms.
“Let’s get you out of that dress.”
We take off each other’s clothes, and I allow myself to ogle his body.
“Exercise fucking works,” I say, running my hands over the muscles of his shoulders and down his abs to the borderline ostentatious V of his hips.
“Are you being nice to me?” he asks.
“I’m trying to sweet-talk you into having sex with me again.”
“Oh, weird,” he says. “It worked.”
This time it’s slower. By the time we both come I am, to use a metaphor that befits this room, Play-Doh.
We cuddle up together, naked, and put the blanket over us. It barely fits. He has to wrap himself around me to avoid falling off the mattress. Our breath has slowed, and I can feel his heartbeat.
It might be the best feeling in the world.
He kisses my jaw.
“Molly,” he whispers in my ear, squeezing me a little. “I’m in love with you.”
My breath catches.
I go completely still, waiting for the panic to wash over me.
But when my heart flips over, it’s not with anxiety.
It’s with joy.
