Page 65 of Merciless Heir
“Kingston…”
“You want me to let you go? I will.” Those words are harder to say than they have any right to be. Because I don’t want to let her go.
She sighs, her breath warm against me and I shiver. We’re both half-dressed, ridiculously disheveled, and I don’t want to let her go. I want to do it all over again. “What did we just do?”
I should laugh, but I don’t. I can’t. “I have no fucking idea, Sadie.”
“That was a bad idea.”
“The worst.”
“I don’t even like you, Kingston.”
This time I slide her hair away from her face and smile. “I thought the same thing. About you. But then I realized that’s a lie. And you’re lying, too.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re in love?”
“No. I don’t believe in love. I like you and you like me.”
“I liked that.”
“Yeah.” I close my eyes a moment and the thump-thump of her heart is oddly soothing. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“I don’t regret it,” she says, trailing her fingers down my shirt she ruined. “A one time only deal—”
“This isn’t one time only. One night.”
“One night.”
We stare at each other and that beat is still in the air, that awareness and my cock stirs. Sadie shifts, very deliberately, against me.
“You play dangerously,” I say to her.
She smiles. “I know.” Then her smile fades. “We’d never last.”
She’s right there. We’re not for each other, even though that might have been the best sex in my life. “Sadie, I…” I stop, unsure what it is I want to say. “I want to say that came from nowhere, or we were drunk, but it’s not true. It’s been brewing. And I’m sober.”
“You and I don’t work. We’re too alike. We’re too different. We…this is just weird.”
Suddenly, I laugh and kiss her. It’s a slow, lazy kiss, one that doesn’t need to go anywhere, one that’s warm and inviting and full of gentle waves of pleasure. It could go places, if we wanted it to. If one of us was to shift or turn it up a notch. But she doesn’t do that and I lose myself in the sweetness of her mouth. The heat. The beauty of it. When I lift my head, I don’t want to laugh anymore.
Because everything she said is why it would never work, even if by some weird turn of events we wanted it to. “Why are we talking about it?”
“Because I like to analyze, and so do you.”
“This sofa is too fucking small,” I say, getting up and stripping down.
Sadie watches, eyes bright with hunger. I reach out, take her hand and draw her to her feet and start stripping her, too.
“I can do that myself.” But she doesn’t try to stop me.
I glance up at her as I kneel down, pulling her panties off, the final article of clothing. The definite article, if you will. She’s waxed bare, like she’s been waiting for me. It’s an incredibly erotic sight, her so exposed. And she’s damp from our sex, her lips swollen, the skin a little reddened from that ride straight to heaven.
Before I can think about it, I take hold of her hips and put my mouth there, sliding my tongue down over her clit, and she rewards me with a sharp intake of breath, her body quivering.
“Part your thighs, Sadie.”
She does.