Chapter 12 Maybe I'm Fallin Love
“Let me feel you milk me dry.”
The command snapped her fragile control. She shattered a second time, harder, her walls clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses that dragged him over the edge with her. He buried his face in her neck, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her, growling her name like a prayer and a curse.
They collapsed together, trembling, his weight a grounding anchor. His lips brushed her temple, her jaw, and the corner of her mouth, reverent. She clung to him, legs still wrapped around his waist, refusing to let even an inch of space form between them.
Outside, the first pale hint of dawn crept through the curtains. Inside, their heartbeats slowed in tandem, sweat cooling on fevered skin. He was still inside her, half-hard and twitching with aftershocks, and neither of them moved to separate.
“Stay, just until the sun’s fully up, before you go to Paris,” she whispered against his throat, tasting salt and sex and the faint trace of his cologne.
Dawn spilled gold across the sheets, tracing the sweat-slick curve of Sophia’s spine. Alex’s arms tightened around her, his cock still half-hard inside her, twitching with every aftershock.
He pressed his lips to the damp hollow beneath her ear, tasting salt and sex.
“I have to board that plane,” he said, voice gravel-rough.
“The deal closes at nine. If I miss it, the whole acquisition collapses.”
Sophia’s fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving half-moon crescents.
“Then give me the hours we have left,” she whispered, hips rolling slow and deliberate, dragging a groan from deep in his chest.
“Ruin me so thoroughly I’ll still feel you when you’re thirty thousand feet up.”
The plea snapped the last thread of his restraint. He flipped them in one fluid motion, pinning her beneath him, still buried to the hilt. The new angle punched the air from her lungs, she arched, breasts brushing his chest, nipples tight and aching.
“Sophia…” He pulled out almost all the way, the drag torturous, then slammed back in, one brutal thrust that rattled the headboard. She cried out, legs wrapping his waist, heels digging into the small of his back.
“You want to feel me on that flight? I’ll make sure you do” he growled against her throat, teeth scraping.
He set a punishing rhythm, hips snapping, cock hitting so deep she saw stars. The room filled with the wet, filthy sounds of their joining, skin slapping, her slick coating his thighs, the creak of the mattress protesting. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her collarbone, she licked it off his jaw, tasting salt and desperation.
His hand slid between them, thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight, ruthless circles.
“Come on my cock,” he demanded, voice shredded.
“Mark me the way I’m marking you.”
She shattered instantly, walls clamping down, pulsing around him in waves that dragged a guttural curse from his lips. He didn’t stop fucked her through it, relentless, until she was sobbing, oversensitive and still greedy for more.
Only then did he let go, hips stuttering as he spilled inside her again, growling her name like a prayer against her mouth.
They stayed locked together, trembling. He was softening but didn’t pull out, unwilling to break the connection. Dawn painted them in molten light, the clock on the nightstand read 6:47 a.m.
Sophia traced the stubble along his jaw, memorizing the scratch of it under her fingertips.
“Shower with me,” she said, voice hoarse.
“One more time before you leave.”
He carried her to the bathroom, still inside her, her legs around his waist. Under the scalding spray, he pressed her against the marble wall and took her again, slow, reverent, water sluicing over their joined bodies.
She came with his name on her lips, teeth sunk into his shoulder to muffle the sound. He followed moments later, hips jerking, spilling deep as steam fogged the glass.
7:32 a.m.
Steam still clung to Shopia’s skin as she lay curled in Alex’s bed, her body warm and loose, every breath reminding her of how close he had been moments before. The echo of his touch still pulsed through her, a memory she could feel rather than see.
Alex stood near the window, half dressed, fastening the buttons of his crisp white shirt. The morning light traced the faint marks she had left on his shoulder, a shadowed reminder of how desperately she had held on to him in the dark.
He caught her watching him. For a moment, something softened in his expression, something dangerous, something almost tender. He crossed the room, the air shifting with him, and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Morning,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.
Shopia swallowed, her voice caught somewhere between sleep and the ache of wanting him again.
“You’re leaving now?”
“Paris won’t wait,” he said, but the way his thumb traced the faint bruise blooming at the base of her throat made her think he would, if she asked.
She didn’t ask. He dipped his head, kissing her slowly, the kind of kiss that left her breathless and aware of every inch of her own skin. She tasted the night on him. She tasted herself. She felt him linger when he should have pulled away.
“I’ll be back in forty-eight hours,” he whispered against her lips, his breath warm.
“Don’t forget me too quickly.” Shopia smiled faintly, unable to hide it.
“I won’t.”
Alex’s gaze swept over her one last time, the sheet tangled around her hips, the flush still on her skin and something dark flickered through his eyes, the kind of look that promised this wasn’t the end of anything.
“Good,” he murmured.
The door closed softly behind him.
For a long moment, Shopia didn’t move. Her heartbeat felt too loud in the quiet room. Her body still hummed with the electricity he left behind, the ghost of his hands, his breath, his closeness.
She exhaled, staring up at the ceiling. And for the first time since him, she smiled without forcing it.
“Maybe i fallin love with her,” she murmured.