Her arms fell away, leaden, and I propped myself up on my hands, looking down at where I moved in her, feeling her eyes on my face.

“Will,” she exhaled, and I heard the languid glee in her voice. “My God.”

“Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so wet.”

She reached up, slid her finger into my mouth so I could taste her sweetness. I moved one hand between us, rubbing her clit, knowing she was going to be sore soon, but needing to feel her come around me one more time.

After only a few minutes she arched, hips rocking faster with me. “Will . . . I . . .”

“Shh,” I whispered, watching my hand move over her, my c**k slide in and out. “Give me one more.”

I closed my eyes, my mind diving down into pure sensation: her quivering thighs all around me, the rhythmic tightening of her pu**y as she came again with a hoarse, surprised cry. I cut the last chain of my self-control, hitting deeper and harder, prolonging her release with my thumb pressed to her clit. Hanna’s head was thrown back into the pillow, hands on my ass, pulling me forward while she rocked up into me. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, and all around her head, her hair was a wild mess on her pillow. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

She dragged her nails up my back, watching my face, fascinated. The sensation was too much: her rough touch, soft body beneath, and her wide-eyed, fascinated study.

“Tell me it feels good,” she whispered, lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, hair matted with sweat.

“So good,” I hissed in a rush. “I can’t . . . I can’t f**king think straight.”

Her nails pushed down, in a rough pinch and in a flash I knew with the pain of her nails and sweet pleasure of her body wet and squeezing me, I wasn’t going to last. Pleasure flooded my veins, hot and frantic.

“Harder,” I begged.

She curled into me, biting down my shoulder to my chest. “Come,” she gasped, dragging her nails possessively down my back. “I want to feel you come.”

It was as if I’d been plugged into an outlet, every inch of my skin alive and buzzing with heat. I stared down at her: br**sts moving with the force of my thrusts, skin sweaty and perfect, angry red bite marks from my teeth all over her neck, shoulders, and jaw. But when I looked up and met her eyes, I lost it. She was staring at me and it was her—Hanna, this girl I saw every morning and fell in love with a little bit more every single time she opened her mouth.

It was so f**king real. With a loud shout, I collapsed on her, bucking wildly and flooded with a pleasure so intense I barely registered the warmth of her arms around my shoulders, the press of her kiss to my neck when I stilled on top of her, or the way she whispered, “Stay on top of me like this forever.”

“Don’t ever stop being so f**king open,” I murmured, pulling my gaze to her face. “Don’t stop asking for what you want.”

“I won’t,” she whispered. “I got you tonight, didn’t I?”

And just that simply, I was claimed.

Chapter Eleven

I woke to the shifting of the mattress, the sound of springs as Will climbed out of bed.

Dim, blue light seeped through the window and I blinked into the darkness, trying to make out the shape of objects nearby—the doorway, my dresser, his silhouette disappearing through the bathroom door.

Without switching on a light, I heard the water start, the shower door opening and closing again. I considered joining him but seemed unable to move: my muscles felt like rubber, my body heavy and sinking into the mattress. There was a deep, unfamiliar ache between my legs and I stretched, squeezing my thighs together to feel it again. To remember. Now my room smelled of sex and Will and I could feel myself grow dizzy from it, from his proximity and the thought of so much of his naked skin just on the other side of the wall. Arms, legs, a stomach like granite. What exactly was the protocol here? Was I lucky enough that he’d come back and we’d do it all over again? Is that how this worked?

My thoughts drifted to Kitty and Kristy and I wondered whether last night was just like all the other nights he’d spent with numerous other women. If he held them the same way, made the same sounds, offered the same promises of how good he’d make them feel. Will didn’t spend every night with me, but we did spend a lot of them together. When did he see them? A part of me wanted to ask, so I could know the specifics of how he slotted all of us into his life. But a bigger part of me didn’t, not really.

I ran my hand through my tangled hair and thought of last night: of Dylan and our disastrous date, of Will, and how it felt to realize he’d been just outside my apartment. Worrying. Waiting. Wanting. Of the things we’d done and how he’d made me feel. I’d never known sex could be like that: both hard and soft and alternating between the two for what felt like forever. It was wild; his hands and teeth left me deliciously bruised, and there were moments I thought I might break into a million pieces if I couldn’t get him even deeper into me.