Page 84 of My Only

“Ayla.”

Still nothing. She moved past me again, making her way back toward the counter—until I caught her wrist.

She gasped at the contact, body stiffening for just a second before she let herself be pulled into me. No resistance, just the tension humming between us.

Her brown eyes locked onto mine, searching. And I held her gaze, steady, unwavering.

I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers, testing, waiting. Her lashes fluttered, and for a moment, she stayed still. Then, slowly, her eyes drifted shut.

That was all I needed.

I took her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing the moan that slipped free. She lost her footing for a second, but I was there, hands gripping her waist, keeping her steady. Without breaking contact, I lifted her into my arms and carried her to the kitchen counter.

There was nothing soft about the way we moved after that. The frustration between us bled into every touch, every gasp, every desperate moan. By the time I was yanking my belt free and she was slipping out of her shorts, we were frantic.

I hooked my hands beneath her thighs, pushing her legs back as I settled her against me, her knee hooking over my elbow.

Our mouths crashed together again, teeth and tongues clashing in an unspoken battle.

Her hands fisted my shirt as I guided myself between her soft, slick folds. Even through the urgency, I forced myself to take it slow, to feel every inch as I slid into her heat.

Ayla’s head dropped back, lips parting in a sharp exhale.

“Shit,” I groaned against her mouth, feeling her tighten around me.

Two nights without her was two nights too damn long.

She whimpered as I pushed deeper, her body arching into mine. Her lips found mine again, her tongue sliding against mine, desperate and wanting.

My movements were slow but deliberate, each thrust deep and controlled, dragging pleasure out of both of us. Our bodies moved in sync, a rhythm we knew too well.

Ayla leaned her head back against the cabinet, her grip tightening on my shirt. Her lips parted on a silent cry, her brows knitting together as I rolled my hips, stroking into her just right.

For a moment, we lost control—moans mixing with growls, teeth grazing, hands gripping. Her gaze met mine, dark and hazy, pupils blown.

It was too much. The way she gripped and released me in the same breath. The way her body trembled beneath my touch. The way she whispered my name like it was the only thing holding her together.

“Damn, Hassani… mmm,” she moaned, voice breathless, body shuddering as her release slammed into her.

I felt her come undone around me, her walls tightening, pulling me over the edge with her. My grip on her thighs turned bruising as I fought to hold on, but it was useless.

A deep groan tore from my throat as pleasure crashed through me, so intense it had my vision blacking out for a second.

I collapsed against her, chest heaving. Ayla’s legs locked around me, holding me close as we caught our breath.

And for a moment, just a moment, everything felt right again. Like we’d found our way back.

Like we were okay.

Until my phone chimed with a message.

Still breathless, I ignored it, pressing my forehead against Ayla’s. This was what we did. This was how we fixed things—falling back into each other until the anger faded. Until we remembered what we were.

But Ayla had stiffened beneath me.

Her gaze dropped to my phone.

And then, in an instant, everything changed.

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