His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the tendon there, and I arched without thinking.
The towel gave up its fight, slipping to the floor in a damp heap. Cool air hit my wet skin; his hands followed, palms skating over ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. A shudder rolled through .
"Fuck," he breathed against my collarbone, the word reverent. "You look so damn sexy."
I let out a breathless laugh and tugged at his shirt. He shrugged it off, letting it fall, and the heat of his bare chest against mine short-circuited every warning in my head.
He has an attractive muscle and scars which dragged my attention imdiately. I traced the jagged line that cut across his ribs with my fingers slowing without breaking eye contact with him.
And he hissed, hips jerking forward without control as I went further.
His belt buckle clinked. I fumbled it open, fingers clumsy with want. He helped, shoving jeans down just enough, then lifted .
My back t the wall again, harder this ti, and my legs wrapped his waist like they’d been waiting for permission.
"Look at ," he growled.
I did, and God help I was enchanted. His eyes were black in the dim light, pupils blown wide. He held my gaze as he pressed forward—slow, deliberate—until the blunt heat of him nudged exactly where I ached. A single, teasing slide. My nails dug into his shoulders.
"Mordred..." I moaned softly, "Ah– it’s so huge."
Then he finally pushed in, the stretch burned sweet; I gasped into his mouth. He stilled, pressing his forehead against mine with a ragged breathing.
"Tell if it’s too much," he said, voice strained. "And I’ll slow down just for you mama."
I answered by rolling my hips.He cursed under his breath in a low, filthy tone and snapped his control.
The rhythm started hard and stayed there—deep, punishing strokes that rattled the cheap drywall.
Every thrust shoved a moan from my throat; every withdrawal dragged a growl from his.
His hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit with ruthless precision. Pleasure coiled tight and vicious.
Water from my hair dripped between our bodies, slicking the slide of skin on skin. I bit his shoulder to muffle a cry; he shuddered, pace faltering, then drove deeper as if the pain spurred him on.
"Close," I panted. "Don’t stop..."
He didn’t. His free hand gripped my thigh hard enough to bruise, angling just right.
Two more strokes and I broke—back bowing, vision whiting out, a choked scream swallowed by his kiss. He followed seconds later, hips stuttering, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural sound that vibrated through my chest.
"Arghhhhh"
We stayed locked like that, trembling, sweat and water mingling. His forehead dropped to my shoulder; I felt his heart hamring against my ribs.
After a mont he eased out, gentle now, and lowered until my feet touched the cool tile. My legs shook. He steadied , palms sliding up my arms, then cupped my face and kissed slowly—soft, almost apologetic.
"I love you Kianna" he murmured against my lips. " I fucken love you so much it drives insane."
I laughed, shaky and raw. "Shut up and carry to bed before I collapse."
And he did, he raised in a bridal style like I weighed nothing. And carried towards my bed. He lowered gently onto the sheets with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The mattress dipped as he slid in beside , one arm sliding under my neck, the other resting warm across my stomach. Skin on skin, still damp and still electric.
I stared at the ceiling, heart racing down from the high. He traced lazy circles on my hip.
"We should talk," he said, voice soft for once. "About what happens next. I want you safe, but I also want..."
His words blurred. The heat of his body, the low rumble of his voice, the ache between my thighs—everything pulled under. I didn’t rember closing my eyes.
The next morning,
The Sunlight sliced through the blinds and stabbed awake. I was naked with sheets tangled around my legs. Mordred’s scent was everywhere.
Then reality slamd in like a hangover. I had sex with Mordred Sinclair, against the wall last night. The man I’d sworn was just a deal, a ans to an end, and a complication I couldn’t afford.
I sat up too fast, clutching the sheet to my chest. My skin flushed hot with embarrassnt, guilt and panic all at once. God what have I done? Why didn’t I stop it from happening? Why the hell should I allow myself to let it go this far?
mories from last night kept replaying. I couldn’t even think of his na without my stomach flipping now. I felt like vanishing into a hole and never appearing again.
But before my thoughts could explode any further, the bedroom door creaked open.
And Mordred walked in, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, holding two paper cups and a brown bag that slled like bacon and regret.
He took one look at —hair wild, cheeks burning, sheet clutched like armor and his mouth curved into a slow, infuriating grin.
"Morning, gorgeous." he uttered.
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "Don’t. Just—don’t." I groaned.
He set the food on the nightstand, sat on the edge of the bed, and tugged one of my hands free. "Hey. Look at ."
I peeked through my fingers, he wasn’t laughing. His eyes were soft filled with amusent, but not mocking.
"You’re acting like we robbed a bank," he teased. "We didn’t. We just... stopped pretending."
"I called you a liar last night," I mumbled. "Then I let you..." I gestured vaguely at the wall. "...Do that."
"And I called you reckless," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. "Then I begged you not to stop. We’re even."
I huffed, but the knot in my chest loosened a fraction. He leaned in, lips brushing my temple.
"Eat and take your shower. Stop spiraling. You’re cute when you overthink, but I like you better when you’re not hiding under the damn sheet." he whispered against my skin.
I swatted his arm. "Such a pervert."
He caught my wrist and kissed my knuckles before he handed one of the coffees.
His phone buzzed on the dresser. He glanced at the screen and frowned.
"Shit." He turned it to . It was a ssage from one of his boys called Jax. It say’s, "BioChem midterm moved up. 9 a.m. Kianna’s gonna be late if she doesn’t haul ass."
I stared at the ti on his lock screen, it was already 8:17 a.m. Shit, I bolted upright, sheet slipping. "I have a test? But how are we even supposed to ...."
Mordred was already moving—yanking open a drawer, tossing one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that would swallow whole.
"Get dressed," he said, all business now. "I’ll drive. You can hate in the car."
I scrambled into the clothes, mortified, exhilarated but still tasting him on my lips.
As I tied my ssy hair into a knot, I caught his reflection in the mirror—watching , smile gone, sothing fierce and protective in his eyes.
We weren’t just a deal anymore. And I had no idea what the hell that ant.
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