Page 68 of The Fate Factor

I nod, breathless, and he chuckles patiently.

“Tell me, baby, cause I don’t wanna just look.”

“Call me that again.”

He takes my chin in his hand, eyes hooded. “Let me look at you, baby.”

“Yes. Look.” I raise my arms over my head, and he takes off my shirt, leaving the tank beneath it.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, before tugging the ribbed fabric down, exposing me, dipping to put his mouth on me. He sucks until my hips lift off of the couch, desperately seeking. “I think that halo’s coming off, Noe.”

“Ha. Still think I’m an angel, huh?”

“I think you’re a very good girl.”

Maybe I was, but he’s gasoline to what was barely a crackling ember of spirit inside of me these last few months. I feel alive. Like every one of my nerve endings is at attention.

This has to mean something, right? This overflowing feeling in my chest, this frantic need. It has to be a sign that it’s okay to look past one little glitch in the magic.

Please?

“Anything,” he whispers, and I realize I’ve said it out loud, a plea to the universe to make good on its promise. “I will give you anything you want, Noel.”

There’s only one thing in the world that I want right now. “Let’s go upstairs.”

nineteen

Noel

Mybackknocksagainstthe railing at the top of the loft, then the dresser. Jamie laughs against my breast. “I’d tell you to be careful, but that’s your line.”

“I don’t want to be careful.”

I want wildness, abandon. I want rough hands and filthy words. I’m halfway to mauling him, but he straightens, taking my face in his hands to slow our frantic kissing to small pecks along my cheekbone, my jaw, my neck.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, and God it’s impossible to have any coherent thoughts at all with his body against mine, shirtless, jeans bent out of shape in the front, and so low on his hips I can see exactly how far that trail of hair on his belly extends.

“I’m wondering what this will be like between us,” I say honestly. This connection, this unexplainable string. I feel it pull tighter with every new place he touches me. A sailor’s knot, cinching. I want to know how it will manifest when there’s nothing left between us. I want to know how much more I’ll feel when he’s inside of me.

“It will be good,” he says, mouth moving against my skin. “It will be so good.”

I shiver from this drafty house and from the anticipation. Whatever else it will be, I’ve already seen how good it is. “What about you?” I ask, suddenly breathless. “What are you thinking?”

He pulls away and his smile pings up on one side. Mischief. “I’m thinking about the multiple times you told me not to touch you.”

A laugh bursts free, and I push at his shoulder. “Yes, I’ve clearly lifted that ban.”

“Good. Let’s keep touching.”

“Let’s.” I run my fingers down his stomach, cup him over his pants, and the deep groan he makes causes something in my chest to jump. This boldness is unfamiliar to me, but there’s no reason to pretend, to be tentative. He watches me unbutton and unzip, then slide my hand inside. He’s warm and pulsing in my palm, and I run my thumb over the wet tip of him.

“So hot,” he says. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

“So do you.” His hips buck before he can get a hold of himself, and the heat of him, the gentle tug of his fingers in my hair while he tries not to thrust into my hand, it sets me on fire.

“Okay, okay,” he says, laughing. He gently tips my chin and I pull my hand free. “Too soon. I’m going to come in my pants.”

“Take them off, then.”

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