He breaks, too. I feel it before I hear the sound he makes—almost a sob, guttural and raw—and then he's coming, his hips stuttering, his arms locked so tight around me I can't breathe.
For a second, we're both weightless, suspended in this perfect, wild oblivion. He doesn't exist, and neither do I. We're just shudders and come and groans.
And then we're tangled together, gasping and sweating, our bodies fused, his body so close I feel every frantic beat of his heart.
I wrap my arms around him, my nails tracing shapes on his back, memorizing his warmth and weight. I could fall asleep right here, under him, surrounded by him, with the ocean and the stars outside and the salt of his skin on my lips.
"Jesus," he murmurs into my neck, his voice hoarse. "Jesus Christ, Evie."
I hear the thread of awe in his voice, and I know he feels the same thing I do, like this right here is where we're meant to be.
I bury my face in his throat, my world in shambles around me. What's left isn't what I expected. Somehow, it's even better. It's him and me and more of this. So much more of this.
Chapter Eight
Kingston
Waking up to Eviein my bed is the culmination of every dream I've ever had. She's so sweet when she sleeps, and so fucking soft. I can't help but pull her closer, my hands drifting across her body, just to feel her come alive for me.
Long before her eyes open, she's whimpering my name.
There isn't a man alive who'd blame me for slipping between her legs and licking her awake. I taste myself on her, and my cock has never been harder or more desperate.
I ignore the hard bastard, eating her until she's fully awake, her hands fisted in my hair as she grinds against my face, begging for more. I give it to her, flipping her to her stomach and fucking her until she's screaming.
She sounds so sweet when she's screaming for me.
By the time I'm finished with her, she's limp beneath me, her body plastered to the bed like she's part of it. She's never looked more beautiful than she does in this moment.
My heart squeezes in a vise, threatening to rip itself in half just to belong to her. I don't think I've ever wanted anything as badly as I want a lifetime of her just like this.
"Are you still falling for me, princess?" I ask, my lips at her ear.
"Maybe," she says.
I nuzzle her throat, praying to a God I'm not even sure I believe in that she keeps falling. I'll be right here to catch her when she's ready to land. She'll be safe in my arms, where she belongs.
"Are you going to run if I tell you that I'm not?"
She goes rigid beneath me, then turns her head oh so slowly to face me. I realize as soon as I see her face that she misunderstood. She thinks I've changed my mind.
As if that's even a possibility.
"I'm already there, princess," I murmur, brushing sweaty tendrils of hair away from her cheek. "So fucking deep, there is no getting out again."
"Kingston, are you…" She trails off, licking her lips. The way hope and fear war on her face is devastating in the best way, like her whole world hinges on me right now. "What are you saying?"
"That I'm in love with you. Wildly. Desperately." My lips curve into a grin. "So much so that I don't even give a shit that there isprobably a throng of paparazzi outside right now, just waiting to see if you spent the night here."
Her eyes widen. "There are photographers out there?"
"Probably." I study her face. "If you want me to sneak you out of here, I'll do it, Evie. I'll come to you in secret after my game tonight, and we can pretend that what happened on the stage last night was just for show. We'll act like we're just friends who were having a good time, and nothing more. I'm willing to do whatever you need me to do to prove that the only thing I'm interested in is you. I don't give a shit about my brand, hitching myself to your star, or getting close to your dad. I didn't even know Kasen was your dad until after we met. I just want you, baby. I want the girl who learned to sing in church, and the woman who guards her heart so closely she was willing to step over me on live television. I want the one who lies about having a husband, stalks me even though she won't ever admit it, and who sings like a fucking angel. I want every messy, perfect piece ofyou."
She flips over beneath me, staring up at me in silence for so long, I think maybe she is going to ask that we keep this a secret. It'll kill me if she doesn't want the whole world to know she's mine, but I'm willing to give her that.
I know a little bit about what she's been through. I've been there myself. When I first joined the league, there were vultures everywhere, desperate to be seen with me just so they could claim their fifteen minutes.
I imagine it's been a whole helluva lot worse for her than it ever was for me. Athletes are a dime a dozen. A woman like Evie is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of star. She isn't good because her father is a superstar. She's fucking phenomenal all on her own.