Second to None, page 13
Yeah. Well.
“Too many clothes,” Cass murmured.
Right. I nodded, nose dragging along his, before I sat back to pull the hoodie and T-shirt over my head. He made no move to follow suit, just lay there watching me, and I resisted the urge to cross my arms in front of my chest. The faint draft of the air conditioning cooled the flush on my cheeks.
“Is this a party for one?” I asked, striving for confidence I didn’t feel. Maybe he noticed because his smile turned soft.
“It’s been years, Lee. Let me look my fill.”
“Goes both ways, you know?”
“Yeah, all right.” He raised himself up a little and grasped the hem of his T-shirt, got it tangled around his head. I reached out to help and tossed it aside, a chuckle easing the breathless weight in my stomach.
“Smooth, Monroe. You’d think a certified sex symbol would have better moves.”
“It’s called expectations versus reality.” His tone was light, but something about his expression didn’t sit quite right with me—an uncertain tilt to his mouth, almost imperceptible in the gentle wash of the bedside lamp. Hmm.
“Good thing I’m here for the reality.” I shifted to straddle him, pressing down. He inhaled sharply, the tension in his face melting away even as his body arched under mine. I skimmed my palms along his stomach, mapping out the changes—the broader chest and firmer lines of his stomach, the small Lyra constellation inked into his skin. When I’d first caught sight of it, I’d read it as a betrayal that he’d gotten it without me. Now? Now I curved down to trace it with my tongue, mesmerised by the delicate lines.
‘A reminder. Of what it cost me—being too afraid to be true to myself.’
“Levi,” Cass said, low.
I hummed before I nipped at his skin, wondering what he’d look like with a love bite right next to the tattoo—a different kind of reminder.
“Levi,” he said again, more emphasis behind it. I raised my gaze, and he smiled at me, slow and luminous. My heart gave a dizzying lurch, and then the room tilted when he rolled us over, quickly kicked off his jeans and returned to my side. No underwear. I swallowed because—God, he’d always had a pretty cock. I’d just… forgotten, or maybe I hadn’t wanted to remember. Not massively long, but thick and nicely curved, his treasure trail neatly trimmed.
The first time I’d touched him was the same night he’d kissed me, stretched out on top of him on the sofa as the other boys wandered off to bed one by one, with variations of “Keep it down, will ya?” I’d been his first, and even then, everything raw and new, a part of me wanted to be his last.
His voice pulled me back to the present. “C’mon,” he said, tugging at my trousers. I helped him shove them down my thighs along with my pants. Any flicker of insecurity I might have felt at how I compared—it died when he sat back on his haunches, open wonder in the way he drank me in. It quieted something in me.
“Hi,” I said, smiling.
He inhaled and smiled back, curling one hand around my left ankle, trailing kisses along my shin and up to my knee. I propped myself up on an elbow to watch him—the dark tangle of his hair, the charcoal smudges of his lashes. God. He paused, lips open against my kneecap, then raised his head.
“What happened?” he asked.
Oh. That.
It wasn’t a particularly large scar, its edges uneven where the skin had puckered slightly, pale against my summer tan. I wished he hadn’t noticed it. But I didn’t want to lie either.
“Got drunk one night. Three years ago—almost four now.” I forced myself to hold his gaze. “Dropped a glass.” Whiskey spilling amber across the floor, shards scattering across the kitchen tiles, and me staring at the mess with a dull sort of frustration prickling around the drunken fog in my mind. “I tried to clean it up and fell on it.”
“Jesus, Lee.” His eyes shone with something that wasn’t quite shock, wasn’t quite pity.
I looked away. “On the bright side, it was the final kick in the arse that I needed. Booked myself into rehab the next day. Mason had been on my case for weeks, so… that finally did it.”
Cass shoved a shaky hand through his hair, drawing several deep breaths as silence wrapped around us. Well, hey. Effectively ruined the mood, hadn’t I?
Only then he ducked down and pressed a kiss to the scar—gentle, almost reverent. His voice cracked a little when he spoke. “I’m glad this did it. I’m glad it was this, and not something worse.”
Oh, hell. I reached for him, pushed him onto his back and crawled on top, claimed his mouth like—like—God. Like he was air and water, fire and earth. It didn’t make sense. I couldn’t do this again, but tomorrow was light years away.
He shivered into me, tugging me closer, fingers in my hair. “I want—”
I kissed him quiet because me too. Me too. Eyes closed, I felt him shift under me, blinked just long enough to see his hand slide under the pillow. When he pressed a condom and lube into my palm, I paused.
“When did you…?”
His gaze was steady. “When you asked to come over.”
“You knew?”
“Hoped.”
This was real, wasn’t it? For tonight, it was. I let the foil crinkle between my fingers, studying him for seconds that thudded in my chest. He let me, the slight tilt of his chin daring me to touch him already, eyes heavy-lidded, the faintest upwards quirk to one side of his mouth. He looked sure of what he wanted, sure it was me, and I was caught by a wave of desire so intense it almost swept me under.
“Right,” I managed. Right.
I set the condom aside for now and squashed the useless thought of how I wished we didn’t need it. This wasn’t then. I stroked one hand along his hip and uncapped the lube with the other before I moved between his thighs. He bent one leg, foot flat against the bed, draped the other over my shoulder, and curved a hand around my elbow, grounding us both. Beautiful, God. How many times had we done this? And would this be the last?
Stop overthinking. Tomorrow can sort itself out.
“All right?” I asked, tracing small circles around his rim, my attention dragging up his gorgeous body. Somehow, I didn’t think he wanted to hear the things I’d used to tell him freely—you’re so beautiful, babe, I just love looking at you. Could do it all day. Like it had lost its shine. Like being adored for his face and body made him wonder if that was all he had to offer.
“Yeah,” he breathed, and I watched the way his lashes fluttered when I nudged a finger into him. He rocked into the stretch, cock heavy on his belly and lips parted as he watched me.
Beautiful. My beautiful boy.
“You make it bloody hard to think, you know that?” My voice sounded hoarse to my own ears. “The way you move with me, the way you open up—it’s like nothing else.”
“Is that a—” He broke off when I added a second finger, head arching back as spots of hectic red bloomed high on his cheeks. Not the polished star the world got to see, but Cass. “That a bad thing?”
“No, Cass. It’s amazing. You’re…” Gorgeous. Fuck, I was messing this up, wasn’t I? White heat flowed through my veins as he shoved back against my fingers. God, yeah, he’d always loved it a little rough. But I just… I needed him to know he was more than a perfect arse and a pretty face to me. Always had been. “You don’t do anything halfway. You’re right here with me, fully in the moment. Totally present. I’ve always loved that about you.”
Too much?
His throat moved when he swallowed. “You don’t have to butter me up, you know. I’m gonna let you fuck me either way.”
“Cass.” I crooked my fingers and watched his mouth fall open, hair a mess against the pillow.
He made a questioning noise, more groan than anything concrete. I leaned down to kiss him, swallowing the little sounds he made at each twist and stretch.
“Learn to take a compliment,” I said when I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.
His mouth curved up, something bright and soft about him even in the shadowed room. “Maybe you’re just terrible at compliments.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I allowed. “I could put my mouth to better use.”
“Or you could fuck me.” He said it lightly, as though it was a comment on the weather. The forecast today? Slightly humid with a high chance of orgasms. Only the way his breath came in quick, shallow bursts gave him away.
God, I’d been with something like a dozen guys since we’d ended, mostly drunk off my arse and trying to purge him from my system. Hadn’t worked—no one had even come close. Because this was us, too: teasing and little challenges, how we could go from heavy to light to hot to sweet in the space of a minute.
I’d fucking missed this.
I’d fucking missed him.
“Well.” I stretched the word like a rubber band. “I guess I could fuck you.” My voice was thoughtful—and then I pushed three fingers into him.
He inhaled, sharp, and bore down against them, his entire body one long, lean curve. “Damn it, Lee. I’m ready.”
I pressed my nose against his throat, my stomach muscles quivering, arms straining with the effort of holding myself up above him. I’d been meaning to make him wait a little longer just to prove that I could, that I wasn’t some fan hanging on his every word. But my control was slipping, blood rushing like a whitewater river in my ears.
Something must have given me away because his voice dipped low and sweet. “Please, Levi? Promise I’ll be good for you.”
Turned out he remembered how to push my buttons, too.
“Okay, babe,” I whispered, and I didn’t notice the endearment until surprise flickered across his face. He didn’t comment, though, just watched with hungry eyes as I slicked on the condom, my hands fumbling slightly.
“Smooth,” he said, a smile coating the edges of his voice.
Some of the tension in my chest dissipated, and I grinned at him. “Some of us don’t have a reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, please—you still set the bar for me,” he said. Joking? I couldn’t quite tell.
“Only because I was your first.”
“That’s not why.” Definitely not joking, his eyes dark and intense.
I had no ready response at the tip of my fingers, so I dropped a kiss to his knee, shifting his legs slightly for better access, and then slowly pushed into him. The way his body stretched for me was… Christ. Fucking magic, pure and true. His nails dragged down my back, a counterpoint to the velvet heat of him.
“You all right?” I murmured.
His head tipped back into the pillow, the pale curve of his throat exposed. “Been worse. Move.”
“Such a sweet talker.” I snapped my hips forward and covered his mouth at the same time, teeth catching on his bottom lip. He opened up, arse tilting to urge me on.
“Media trained,” he said into the gap between one kiss and the next, breathless, and I shivered out a laugh.
“Don’t think sex talk was something they covered.”
He wrapped his leg around me, heel digging in to pull me deeper. I stayed just like that for a moment, breathing him in, our open mouths pressed together. One of his hands framed my face, thumb lightly tracing the line of my cheekbone. God. Cass.
I started to move again, slow at first, shifting in increments. Each one drew a gasp from him, a rhythm building between us that sent hot sparks flitting through my vision. Beautiful friction as I picked up the pace, his fingers digging crescents into my forearm. His hair stuck to his forehead in damp, curling tendrils, pupils blown so wide they swallowed the blue of his irises.
I shoved into him, and he met each thrust, his back arched and spine pressed against the sheets. Sweat shone in the hollow where his neck met his shoulder. I kissed him again, sloppy now as I reached between us to get my hand around him. He covered it with his own, fingers slotting together, slick with lube and sweat.
“Levi. Lee.” Exhaled air more than my name, a tiny crease between his brows catching the lamplight. “I’m…”
“Yeah,” I said, yes, the only thing that made sense anymore. This. Us. Inevitable and impossible, rational thought swept away as he tightened around me. Chasing the edge, mouths pressed together, beautiful darkness crowding in around the corners of my mind.
He clung to me when he came, body snapping taut, and I pushed forward in desperate little jolts, eyes squeezed shut, stars scattered through my vision. “Come on,” he mumbled, voice shot, arms and legs wrapping me up. “Want you to—want you, Lee.”
Like stepping off a cliff. The rush of air stole all thought, suspended in weightless infinity, only to crash back into myself—deep and soft, heart thundering in my ears.
Breaths mingling, his arms around me like he intended to hold on for life. “Stay,” he said.
I shouldn’t.
The sheets rustled when he shifted under me, pulling back just enough for our eyes to meet. “Please?”
And I just… collapsed. I was already in too deep, folding right back into him like I’d learned nothing at all. This was going to hurt either way—might as well enjoy the high before gravity hit.
“Okay,” I said, and it felt like temporary surrender. Just for tonight.
CHAPTER 12
Cass
Leeds, Saturday, August 23rd
I woke slowly, like surfacing through layers of warmth and quiet. The backs of my lids were drenched in brightness—sunlight, slipping through a crack in the heavy curtains and splashing gold over the charcoal walls.
Levi. Was he—?
Yes. I could tell he was here without even turning over, sense it in the dip of the mattress and the nearly inaudible breaths he drew. He hadn’t run come morning. That was... good? Unless he’d only stayed to crush my heart.
Jesus. Seemed I’d woken up on the dramatic side of the bed.
I rolled over and found him already awake. Propped up on one elbow, he was watching me with a slow smile that felt private, sunlight softening the angles of his face in a way that made him appear younger. He didn’t look like he regretted last night.
Something eased around my ribs. “Hi.”
“G’morning.” Warm and a little thoughtful, but not closed off. Not like he was gearing up for some kind of speech about how thanks, he’d finally gotten me out of his system—or, worse, how it had been just a leftover bit of stage magic. Look at that—no one’s quite immune to the Cassian Monroe. Funny, innit?
“You’re, uh.” I glanced around us, at the messy sprawl of white linens, crumpled and thrown about like they held my secrets tucked into their folds. “You’re still here.”
He hesitated. “Yeah. Never been the kind to run.”
Unlike me?
My thought must have been easy to read because he sighed. “Hey, no. Not how I meant it.”
“Right.” I shifted slightly and forced myself to meet his eyes again. “And I, you know—you still being here. I was afraid you were, like, trying to fuck me out of your system.”
He stayed silent for a beat, studying me with an intensity I couldn’t quite decipher, his eyes a lucid green in the morning light. “I don’t know,” he said finally, a hint of distance in his tone. “If so, it didn’t work.”
He’d always been the honest type. I appreciated it, in spite of the raw ache in my throat. “I’m glad it didn’t.”
I reached for him, careful and slow, giving him plenty of time to pull back. He didn’t move. So I cupped his jaw, fingers brushing over the prickle of stubble. Closer, until only our foreheads touched, the duvet caught somewhere between our bare chests, and still he made no attempt to extricate himself. The weight of that settled in my chest, heavy like hope. I kissed him—gentle, just a close-mouthed press of our lips because morning breath was a thing, but it calmed the ripples of my thoughts.
He drew back first, sliding a hand along the curve of my hip. “I should get back, though. Cosma and the lads expect me at breakfast.”
Of course. He had a life, and I couldn’t expect him to put it on hold for me.
I inhaled, staring at the nightstand and its orderly arrangement of objects, disrupted by a half-empty glass of water that we’d shared last night. We hadn’t bothered with a shower, just splashed some water on ourselves to wash off the worst of the sweat and lube and come—and maybe part of me hadn’t wanted to get clean at all, keeping the memory of him right there on my skin.
The way he’d moved in me, every thrust deliberate, fingers digging into my thigh. His breath hot against my throat. Restoring a claim he’d never lost.
“Cass?” he asked, still gently touching me, as though I was a delicate thing to be cherished.
“Come back later?” I asked.
He hesitated just long enough for it to register. “I can’t.” His hand pressed flat against my stomach. “Emily and I need to pack. We’re going on holiday tomorrow—a week in Italy, just before school starts again.”
“Oh.” I strove for neutral and failed because this? This was the first I’d heard of it. Not that he needed to keep me updated on his schedule or anything, but we hadn’t even discussed the next outing or photo op. Mostly because he’d suggested that we ‘play it by ear,’ which must have shaved a decade off my publicist’s life expectancy. I hadn’t wanted to push him, though, because the truth was that he owed me nothing.
“Going to Sardinia.” Levi’s mouth curved into a curious tilt as he considered me. “We’ll have a whole villa to ourselves, up in the hills—pool, gym, a huge garden, sea views…”
My last real vacation had been, what, a year ago? I’d rented a private island in the Maldives together with some friends. While it had been good fun, a couple people had brought partners I didn’t know, so I hadn’t been able to relax completely even then.
“Sounds nice,” I said with a smile I didn’t feel.
“Yeah.” Another pause, then he cleared his throat. “You’ve probably got plans. Almost certainly since, you know—you’re you. But if not, you could come? There’s an extra bedroom. I kind of fell in love with the pictures on the website, so, yeah, it’s way too big.”
