His collarbones are straight and long, chest toned, abdomen defined with a slim waist. The bandage on his left arm lingers, a white flag of peace. Adamek clenches and unclenches his fists, watching her watch him. Her eyes skim his hard and soft lines, the angles of his body. Scratches and all, Nazirah thinks he has the most beautiful hands she’s ever seen. Nazirah thinks he is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. And right now she wants him, like she’s never wanted anything, like nothing else matters.
And right now she’s okay with that.
Adamek stands over Nazirah as she sits on the bed. He bends low, laying his hands flat on either side of her. Nazirah’s fingers itch to reach out and touch him.
Anywhere.
Everywhere.
He doesn’t kiss her again.
The electricity between them intensifies, spark and crackle. Nazirah is losing control. She pushes herself backwards on her hands, out of reach. He climbs onto the bed, rough beast, slouching towards her. The tables have turned, the hour come round at last. He is the predator now.
Her back hits the headboard.
Adamek hunches over Nazirah, knee between her legs, palms resting at her sides. They aren’t touching. Nazirah longs for him to close the gap, to kiss her. But she knows he won’t, not yet. Adamek will drag it out, torturing her, torturing him. That’s what they do. If he kisses her now, the game’s over.
With lips only centimeters from her neck, Adamek blows lightly. Chills bang along Nazirah’s spine, shooting to her toes and back. Every sense, every nerve is on fire. He kisses her jaw, leaving an upwards trail of sweet blisters. He bites her lobe, traces the curve with his tongue, sucking the soft spot behind her ear. He tugs her hair, a delicious sting that rocks her core. Nazirah arches her back restlessly underneath him, trying to deepen their contact. But he pulls away, just enough, smiling into her skin.
“Take your shirt off.”
His voice is hoarse, words calculated. He holds back, restraining himself. It’s harder for Nazirah this way, forcing her to be proactive. It makes her prove to him, to herself, how badly she really wants it.
And she does want it.
But Nazirah doesn’t live by anyone’s rules but her own.
She reaches between them, fingering the hem of her shirt as if timid, exposing her stomach. Nazirah’s free hand grips a rung in the headboard. If Adamek’s focus stayed on her face, he would notice the purpose there. But he’s distracted.
Her foot creeps up his leg, hooks at the knee. In an instant, he’s flipped onto his back. Nazirah straddles Adamek smugly. He props himself up on his forearms. She shakes her hair out, noticing his fixation on her chest. Slapping him lightly, Nazirah grabs his chin.
“It’s rude to stare, Morgen.”
He watches her with unadulterated lust. “I’ve never been very polite.”
Nazirah gently scrapes her nails vertically down his face. She traces the arch of his brows, the curve of his eyelids and the shape of his lips. He parts them slightly, taking her fingers into his mouth. He kisses her wrist as she removes them. She sucks his neck, alternating rough bites and kitten licks. Nazirah inches her body down as she goes. She grabs his collarbones, wanting to test how much they’ll give. He hisses slightly, moans, reaches out to touch her. She slaps his hand away, continuing to explore the flat plains, peaks, and valleys of his chest with her mouth. Nazirah can tell he’s getting frustrated, and she likes having that power over him. This is the revenge she chooses. And isn’t it sweet.
She kisses from navel to belt, blowing lightly where skin meets denim. He jerks slightly, clenching his fingers around the headboard’s rungs. Nazirah knows he’s using all of his willpower not to react. But this is a game, and she wants to win.
Nazirah returns to her original position, stretching languidly as she straddles his chest. Gathering her courage, she pulls her shirt off. She lets Adamek stare appreciatively for only a moment before laying the shirt over his face, plunging him into darkness. She pulls the cotton tight, biting his lip through the fabric. He moans, inhaling her scent, rolling his hips against hers. She bites again, sucking harder. When his hips grind a second time, Nazirah arches her back, preventing contact. He groans louder, breathing labored. She goes to do it once more, but Adamek has had enough.
He pulls the shirt off his face, simultaneously lifting Nazirah up and slamming her down backwards. He kisses up the slight concavity of her stomach, sending her body into wracked, stacked spasms. “Can’t handle your own game?” she asks, breathless.
“I can handle it,” he says, sucking the sensitive area where Nazirah’s throat meets clavicle. His hand snakes down, unbuttoning her jeans, slipping under the waistband. He lazily rubs his fingers in slow circles as she writhes beneath him. With his free hand, he pulls her hair back, whispers in her ear. “But why should you have all the fun?”
Adamek slowly removes his hand. Nazirah grabs his wrist, gasping. She pushes him into a sitting position, climbing onto his lap. She will not let him have the last word. “It’s simple, Morgen,” she says deliberately. “Just let me.” She takes each of his fingers into her mouth, sucking off the sticky sweetness.
Body tense, Adamek groans, “Fuck.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
His pupils are so dilated Nazirah can barely see the green anymore. He grabs her, lifts her, and flips her underneath him. He pulls off her jeans without further pretense, throwing them into a ball on the floor. Nazirah props up on her hands, entranced by the contrast of her smooth legs against his dark denim. She watches him watch her, watches his eyes roam, stopping at her throat. Adamek walks his fingers up her side, toys with the amnesty pendant. His eyes ask an unspoken question. Nazirah nods. She cranes her neck, allowing him to slip it off, over her head.
Tonight, they are not just Nazirah Nation and Adamek Morgen. They are more than that, less than that. Tonight, they are quite simply two teenagers living for the present. Yesterday is behind them. And who knows if tomorrow will come.
Adamek runs his hand up her slender calves, strong thighs, curved hips, and small waist. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times since we met,” he says huskily. “All the things I’ve wanted to do to you.”
“I can’t say it was quite the same for me,” she snaps, unbuckling his belt. She bites her lip, struggling to pull it through the loops.
“What changed?” he asks quietly.
She looks at him, belt forgotten. “I changed,” she says.
“You have,” Adamek agrees. He smiles wickedly, fingering her hair. “But you’re still that same girl on the swings. That headstrong girl I wanted all to myself.”
Nazirah pulls away, wrapping her arm around his neck. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she says. “Especially not you.”
She kisses him.
He lets her.
Their lips meet, crashing together for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. Everything suddenly becomes real. The surreal, torturous pace they teased with before is gone, replaced by hunger, by need.
She claws his back. He bites her lip. He deftly unclasps her bra, letting it fall away. He pulls back, taking in the sight of her, before kissing her again. Adamek runs the pads of his thumbs over her breasts then cups them in his hands, squeezing hard. Nazirah moans into his mouth, arching into him. Adamek breaks contact, kissing her chest.
He tears off her final vestige of clothing, pocketing her panties. She lies under him, painfully aware she is the vision of a blushing virgin. Nazirah wants to run away then, wants to put her hands over her face, cry, something. But she just continues burning a hole in the ceiling, trying to find that courage that seems to have vanished.
“Look at me.”
Adamek tugs her chin gently and she sighs. “What?”
“Don’t you understand what you do to me?” he asks, touching her cheek. “You don’t even realize.” He kisses her then, a deep, shattering kiss that makes her less afraid. That makes her not afraid at all. Nazirah smiles playfully, unbuttoning his pants. She pulls the zipper down.