We clean up with a warm washcloth from the bathroom.
“You look shaken,” she says, her eyes wide in the mirror.
“That was a close call. I can’t believe I got so carried away that I forgot the most basic thing.”
We crawl back under the covers, her head on my chest, my arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I won’t be forgetting again. That was a good wake-up call.” I laugh in her hair.
She presses a kiss to my collarbone, smiling against my skin. “Tonight was still perfect.”
I tighten my arm around her. “Yeah. It was.”
“And I should get on the pill.”
“Yeah? You sure?”
“Positive.”
“It did feel really incredible.”
We start laughing again, our fingers threaded together. She falls asleep first, her breath evening out against my skin. I lie awake a little longer, listening to the wind rattle the windows, and feeling the steady rise and fall of her ribs under my hand.
Sometime in the night or early morning, I wake up to Lola’s hair spilling over my stomach and her lips wrapped around my dick. Her tongue slides up the underside, her lips tight, taking me deeper on the next pass. A low groan rips out of my throat.
“Oh, Lola, you’re the best kind of trouble,” I tell her.
She hums around me in answer, the vibration shooting straight up my spine. My hips jerk without permission,pushing deeper into her perfect mouth. She takes it, one hand curling around the base where her mouth can’t reach, stroking in time with the slow bob of her head.
Fuck.
I thread my fingers into her hair, holding on like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered. She looks up at me through her lashes—eyes dark, sleepy, mischievous—and that nearly does me in.
She picks up the pace, just enough. She sucks harder and swirls her tongue around the head, then sinks down again until I hit the back of her throat. My abs clench, breath punching out in short, ragged bursts. I can see the curve of her back, the dip of her waist, the way her hips shift like she’s feeling this as much as I am.
“Lola—mmm, shit—” My voice cracks. “You’re gonna make me?—”
She doesn’t stop. Just moans again, low and needy, and that sound—God, that sound—tips me over. Heat coils tight in my gut, then snaps. I come hard, hips bucking, spilling down her throat while white sparks explode behind my eyes. Actual fucking stars. My whole body locks up, every muscle strung tight, then melts all at once as she works me through it, gentle now, swallowing everything until I’m shuddering.
When she releases me, she presses one last kiss to the tip that makes me twitch. Then she crawls back up my body, slow and smug, lips swollen and shiny, cheeks flushed. She settles on my chest, chin propped on her folded arms, and grins.
“Morning,” she says, voice hoarse.
I can barely breathe. My heart’s still hammering like I just finished drills on the ice. I cup her face with both hands, thumbs brushing her cheekbones, and pull her down to kissher—deep, messy, tasting myself on her tongue and not caring one bit.
“You’re evil,” I mutter against her mouth when I finally let her up for air.
“You love it.”
“Yeah.” I flip us so she’s under me, laughing as the comforter tangles around our legs. “I really fucking do. I really fucking love you.”
“I love you, Tully. I really fucking love you too.”
Her hands slide up my back, nails dragging lightly, and I’m already stirring again. I kiss her neck, her collarbone, and keep going, determined to make her see stars too.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BLEEDING GREEN