Not in Love by Ali Hazelwood

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t—”

One of his hands slammed down between our bodies, and when I glanced down, I realized that only the tip of his cock was inside me—and that he was cupping the base in a mix of desperation and self-defense. In vain. Eli was already shuddering, eyes screwed shut and face twisted with pleasure as he made unrestrained noises and came inside me.

And came, and came, and came.

He was in the throes of something that seemed to transcend pleasure, and I watched every moment of it, spellbound, until every last drop of sensation was milked from him. And when it was finally over, when Eli managed to collect himself and open his eyes, I couldn’t untangle what I found on his face.

“Fuck,” he said, shifting up, hands cupping my face, and he looked—for some reason he looked absolutely ruined. Devastated. I wasn’t sure what possessed me to do it, but he looked like he needed it, and I turned my head and pressed a soft, reassuring kiss into his shaky palm.

It seemed to ignite something in Eli, because his mouth found mine with a kiss. And then another. And then even more, so many that I lost count. After a few minutes he softened and slipped out of me, and murmured something against my lips about not wanting the condom to leak, but managed to get rid of it with little fuss. Then he dragged me onto his chest, locked his arms around me, and kept on kissing me, kissing me, kissing me. Like he didn’t know that the sex was over, like he wanted to prolong it. And I didn’t mind. Not for now. Not for a while.

I had no idea how long we stayed like that. I only knew that the kiss became many, all languid and never-ending, and that the light in the room grew dimmer and the shadows longer, and that we would have continued—if only the doorbell hadn’t rung.





23





A WONDERFUL LAY





ELI

At first he shut the sound out, wrapped his arms tighter around Rue, and went on kissing her.

He’d just had the most intense orgasm of his life, his body was still processing the past hours, and he was fully immersed in the out-of-body experience of Rue not running away from him after he’d fucked her. Or come as close to fucking her as he’d been able to get before losing it.

He was smitten, and not inclined to fight it.

But the doorbell rang again, and the shrill noise turned into a nagging feeling that sank into his pleasure-addled brain like a brick. “Shit,” he muttered against her lips, then pulled her even closer.

She was pliant and glowing and happy, and he’d had no intention of moving except to feed her or fuck her again. “Shit.”

“What?”

“My friends. They’re here. We had plans.”

She gave him a sleepy, wheel-spinning look. “Are you happy about that?”

“God, no.”

She smiled, and his heart leaped in his rib cage. He could do even better. He could make her fucking laugh, with some practice and lots of luck. “Could you pretend not to be home?”

“They have a set of keys.”

“I see.”

“And they’d have seen my car outside.”

“True.” She nuzzled under his chin, just as reluctant to move away. “Looks like you’re going to have to interact with them.”

He groaned in her hair, unable to let go of her, this woman who despised herself for wanting him. Had he ever felt this way before? He must have. Just couldn’t remember.

“Should I sneak out of the window?” He gave her a puzzled look, so she continued, “I have no issue with walk-of-shaming out, but maybe you do?”

“Please, don’t tie my sheets in a rope.” He extricated himself from her, and the skin of her shoulder immediately rose in tiny goose bumps. He traced them with his thumb and forced himself to say, “Just come down when you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

He got up and watched her close her eyes and stretch sinuously on the sheets, fisting his hands to his sides to prevent himself from getting back into bed. He washed up haphazardly, put on a worn flannel and a pair of jeans, and by the time he was downstairs, Minami and Sul were already on the couch, cuddling Tiny as though he were the baby they were not so secretly trying for and taking advantage of Eli’s HBO subscription.

He leaned against the doorjamb and tried for an irritated look, but Minami wouldn’t have it.

“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally up, bright eyed and bushy tailed. How was your napper, champ?” Minami grinned. Then frowned. “Since when do you nap?”

“Since never. I have someone over.”

Her eyebrow shot up. Even Sul, Mr. Mountain of Impassivity, stared wide-eyed. “In the middle of the afternoon? Or from last night?”

“What do you think?”

She pursed her lips, twice. No sound came out, twice. Sighed. “Sul, could you whistle suggestively for me? I’ve been practicing, but it’s so hard.”

Sul obeyed—quite skillfully—like the whipped lovesick idiot he was.

“Thank you, babe. So we interrupted you, Eli?”

“Yup.”

“Sad.” A pained nod. “But whose fault is it for not canceling today’s dinner in advance?”

He gave her the finger just as Hark let himself inside. “Hey.” His hair was coated in tiny droplets of rain. “Did your sister finally get a new car? High time.”