Georgia’s POV
Before I could say a word—protest, decline, tease... not that I had any real intention of stopping him—Nick scooped up into his arms, effortlessly, as always. Princess style. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, my pulse already racing.
"I haven’t showered yet," I murmured, watching him closely, testing if he’d hesitate... if this heat between us could be doused by sothing as mundane as that.
But his eyes didn’t even flicker to mine. They were locked ahead, dark and determined. "So?" he replied coolly, pushing the door open with his shoulder.
Click.
The sound of the door locking behind us sent a jolt down my spine. There was no turning back now.
"I might not sll that great," I pushed again, almost playfully, trying to provoke a reaction, just to see what he’d do.
His voice was calm, but filled with sothing raw. "Georgia, we’ve been stuck on a damn island for over a week without proper soap or shampoo. Do you really think I care about how you sll?" He glanced at then, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I can still catch the scent of the soap you used this morning. Trust ... You sll like temptation."
He sat on the bed with still in his lap, and I barely had ti to respond before his lips found my neck, his mouth tracing a line of heat across my skin. One hand slid up to the zipper of my dress and pulled it down with aching slowness.
"What if I shower first?" I asked, mischief dancing in my tone, barely suppressing a laugh as I felt him tense in mild irritation.
"Seriously?" he asked, giving a dry look before gently nudging off his lap and standing. "Fine. Co on then."
He took my hand and strode toward the bathroom.
"But if you’re showering..." His voice dropped to a dangerous purr. "...I’m joining you."
Damn it.
Wrong move.
I barely had ti to blink before we were inside, the door clicking shut behind us. The mont it did, it was as if sothing in Nick snapped.
Whatever patience he had left vanished.
He turned into a wild animal. Fingers yanking my already-loose dress the rest of the way down, mouth trailing open kisses along my collarbone. My back hit the door as he worked fast, peeling my underwear away like it offended him.
"Nick, calm down!" I gasped between his kisses. "Why are you in such a rush? Everyone won’t be back until evening."
He didn’t even pause. "Exactly," he muttered, voice thick with hunger as he pressed harder against the door. "That ans we have ti for many rounds."
Then he crashed his lips against mine, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Nick turned and walked backward, slowly, until my skin t the cool touch of stone. I gasped as I felt the chill of the granite vanity against my back. Without breaking our kiss, he gripped my waist and lifted up onto it with effortless strength.
I reached for his belt and tugged it open, unzipping his pants in one fluid motion as his fingers worked the buttons of his shirt with equal urgency. In seconds, his clothes were gone, discarded like they were never ant to be between us.
Naked. Breathless. His body pressed into mine.
His kisses were wild and consuming, like we’d been separated for years instead of re hours. Like he needed to make sure I hadn’t forgotten how he felt, how we burned together.
But then his mouth found the curve of my neck—and he slowed. Still passionate, still intense, but this ti careful. No marks. No bruises. Just the heat of his breath and the drag of his lips, making my skin ache in the best way.
His hands road like he was morizing every inch of . And when his mouth closed over one breast, his hand claid the other, sending waves of pleasure crashing through .
"Georgia..." he murmured when his lip went back to mine, his voice suddenly raw. "Tell you’re still mine. Even after seeing Raymond today, tell nothing changed."
I cupped his face, confused by the emotion in his tone. His eyes were dark, searching mine, full of sothing I didn’t expect—fear.
What just happened while I was freshening up and he was talking with the police? He wasn’t like this before that.
"Nick," I said, frowning slightly, "I would never go back to Raymond. He and I... we’re done. Especially after what he pulled today. Why are you doubting that? Where’s this coming from?"
He exhaled sharply and pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closing like he was trying to breathe through sothing heavy. "Just a thought," he whispered. "That maybe... you’d have second thoughts."
No. I wasn’t having second thoughts.
But he was clearly haunted by sothing—and I couldn’t stand to see him like that.
I kissed him hard, deep, pouring everything I felt into it. I wanted him to know there was no one else. No lingering shadows. No second-guessing.
"I haven’t changed my mind about us. Our plan will continue," I whispered against his lips.
I looked him straight in the eyes, voice low and sultry. "Nick, do you want ?"
"I do," he growled, without hesitation.
"Then stop thinking about Raymond," I said, part challenge, part seduction, as I spread my legs for him—shaless, soaked, and aching. "Don’t make wait. I’m yours."
The way his eyes darkened nearly stole my breath.
And then he smirked.
Without a word, he bent over and dove between my thighs, and his mouth found my dripping center—like a hungry man, desperate to devour every trace of doubt between us.
Fucking hell...
He wasn’t holding back.
He devoured like I was the only thing he’d ever craved—his favorite dessert, his sweetest addiction. His tongue moved with wild, reckless hunger, each lick and stroke dragging moans straight out of my throat.
My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard, while my other hand gripped the edge of the counter like for dear life.
"God—Nick... fuck, that’s so good!" I gasped, my voice echoing in the bathroom, raw and desperate.
Every breath, every moan, every tremble of my thighs seed to fuel him more. He didn’t stop—didn’t even slow down.
I wanted more.
I needed more.
And he was giving it to like he couldn’t get enough of the way I tasted, the way I writhed for him. he just fucking addicting.
*********
Thank you hrai for the Golden Ticket!
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