Page 92 of King of Hollywood
My heart was pounding.
Nerves tingled at my fingertips, twisted around my insides, and tied my gut into knots.
“I could never hate you. Not ever. Not even a little. Even if I tried.”
Chapter eighteen
Felix kissed me then, and it was different than before.
It was like the distance that had been between us had finally fallen away.
He was here.
Present.
My greatest gift of all.
I grabbed his ass in both hands, hefting him up and shoving him into the wall in one swift movement. His legs tangled around my hips, our cocks aligning at the same time our mouths met and I—fuck. Fuck.
I didn’t even care that I had to hunch to reach.
Because he was a cool, solid weight in my arms. He felt like heaven, his body quaking against mine as I scrambled at his clothing, struggling to free him from its confines. Felix tried to help, but he was too busy biting a trail down the side of my neck to be anything but a hindrance. He worried the skin there, his sharp teeth threatening to break through—almost on purpose, it seemed. Meanwhile, I was actually productive, and managed to get the buttons undone on both of our pants.
“Bed?” Felix gasped out, his breath fanning along my neck, his spit slick as he pulled off with a wet little sound.
“Bed,” I agreed.
As fun as rutting against him in the hallway was, I wasn’t about to lose my virginity there. I deserved a bed, not rug burn, thank you very much.
I didn’t let Felix down.
I didn’t think he’d let me, even if I wanted to. He clung to me like the gremlin he was, kissing and sucking at my neck the entire time I struggled us up the stairs.
“Why the hell is your bedroom on the top floor?” I complained, out of breath by the second landing.
Felix laughed but didn’t answer. He did lap at the sweat on my neck though—and that was…mmmm distracting.
When we got to his room, I was forced to struggle with the handle before pushing inside. It was just as I remembered it. Telescope in the corner. Wisteria hanging from the ceiling. Movie posters on the walls—like the ones in the living room.
Luckily, there were no cats.
Not this time, anyway.
I shut the door after us so that it would stay that way. The last thing I needed was performance anxiety because Tiffany and Dolly were nosy. And then, I was stalking across the floor—an arm full of Felix, wiggling and nipping at my neck—before I tossed him onto the mattress.
Dust bloomed up from the fabric, and it was a testament to how distracted I was by his body that I didn’t immediately notice how odd that was.
Later, I’d mull over it.
But for now…
Oh yes.
God.
I licked into his mouth again, climbing on top of him—dust be damned.
“Should I apologize?” Felix murmured between greedy kisses, his fingers scratching over my shoulders, rather obscenely groping the muscles I spent years cultivating. He moaned appreciatively when I flexed, crowding into him, shoving his legs apart to make room for my body.