Page 33 of One Room Vacancy
Something shifts in him.
The apology that’s been hiding behind his eyes—he lets it go, along with the restraint.
He exhales hard before his mouth finds my throat, his hands suddenly everywhere—waist, hips, under my thighs—and then I’m airborne for a second, legs tightening around him as he lifts me onto the counter behind us, right next to the sink.
My back hits the cold tile wall, but I barely register it, because his hands are already on my face, framing it like I’m breakable even now, right before he kisses me so deeply it’s almost violent in how full it is. No hesitation, no pretense.
His teeth catch my bottom lip and bite—not hard, not cruel, just enough to match the pressure I gave him earlier. A mirror, a promise. His hands slip down my sides, gripping my hips like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he doesn’t anchor me there.
I tug at his hair again, harder this time, and he groans into my mouth. I swallow it, chasing that sound like it’s mine to claim, because right now…it is.
Clothes become a blur—fingers dragging fabric, pulling, pushing, until we’re bare enough that it stops mattering who started what.
He lines up against me, the head of him thick and hot between my thighs, and he pauses only long enough to meet my gaze.
No words, no second chances.
Just the fire we built between us.
Then he pushes in with a groan that rattles through both of us.
I gasp, hand flying to his shoulder, nails sinking in as he stretches me open, inch by inch.
“Jesus,” he grits out against my neck.
I bite down on his shoulder, not bothering to muffle the noise that escapes my throat.
His pace stutters, just a little, as his mouth moves toward my ear.
“I missed this…” His words match his thrusts, breathy, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His voice is wrecked. Wrecking me. “Missed the feel of you. Missed you.”
I freeze for half a second, heart thudding too hard.
No.
No, he doesn’t get to say that.
I pull back just enough to catch his mouth and kiss him hard—then bite his lip. This time, I don’t hold back, not fully.
There’s a faint taste of iron. His breath hitches, and he pulls away, blinking down at me like he’s trying to figure out if it was an accident.
It wasn’t.
He licks his bottom lip before swiping his thumb across his mouth, seeing the blood.
He pauses, but just for a second, and then he crashes back into me.
His lips find mine again, deeper this time, more desperate. I taste the metallic tang of him, us, for just a moment before it disappears completely.
And then he moves.
Frantic, uncontrolled.Unhinged.
His hips slam into mine with a force that steals the breath from my lungs, again and again.
I clutch at him, nails digging into his back, his shoulders—anywhere I can hold onto, as if it’ll keep me grounded through the onslaught.
But I’m already gone.
