Page 354 of Faking the Goal

"Your turn," she says, and her hands are already at my belt.

We don't make it to the floor so much as collapse onto it, a stack of unopened manga boxes serving as our makeshift bed. The cardboard creaks ominously beneath us, but neither of us gives a shit. Taylor has my jeans around my thighs and her hand around my cock before I can process what's happening, and the first stroke nearly ends me right there.

"Fuck—wait—" I grab her wrist, not hard, just enough to still her. "Condom. Back pocket."

She finds it, tears the packet open with her teeth because of course she does, and rolls it down my length with a focus that would be clinical if not for the way her tongue is caught between her teeth, concentrating. When she's done, she straddles me in one fluid motion, and the heat of her sinking down onto me is enough to blur my vision.

We move together like we've been doing this for years instead of weeks. Her hips find a rhythm that works for both of us, grinding down as I thrust up, and the stockroom fills with the wet sounds of skin on skin and both of us breathing hard, trying to keep quiet and failing miserably. Her t-shirt is rucked up around her ribs, and I get my mouth on her breast through the lace of her bra, sucking a bruise into the pale skin above the cup because I want her to find it later and remember.

"Where did he touch you today?" The question comes out of nowhere, even to me, raw and possessive in a way that surprises us both. Taylor falters above me, her rhythm stuttering.

"What?"

"Conrad." I grip her hips tighter, guiding her, not letting her stop. "Where did he fucking touch you today?"

She stares down at me, her pupils so blown they've nearly swallowed the iris. "My—my hand. When he picked up his coffee. And my shoulder. In the café, when he was leaving."

I flip us. One smooth movement, her beneath me now, my weight braced on my forearms as I drive into her, deeper. She gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist.

"Show me," I tell her.

She lifts her right hand, and I take it, bringing her knuckles to my mouth. I kiss each one, slow and deliberate, my tongue tracing the lines of her fingers. Then her left shoulder, where the strap of her tank top has slipped down. I press my mouth there, sucking gently until she shudders.

"Anywhere else?"

She shakes her head, her hair fanned out beneath her on the cardboard, coming loose from its ponytail. "No. That's all."

"Good." I thrust harder, and she cries out, her nails digging half-moons into my shoulders. "You're mine, Trouble. You know that, right? Even when we're pretending you're not."

"Ken—" Her voice breaks on my name. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

"Come for me." I drop one hand between us, finding her clit, circling it with my thumb. "Come on my cock. Be a good girl for me."

The "good girl" does it. Her back arches off the boxes, a full-body convulsion that takes her breath away, and the way she clenches around me drags me right over the edge with her. I come so hard I see stars, my forehead pressed to her collarbone, her name caught between my teeth like something I'm afraid to let go of.

We lie there. The fluorescent lights hum overhead. Somewhere in the front of the shop, a customer's phone rings, muffled by distance and walls. My heartbeat gradually slows from a sprint to something human.

"Tell me what's on your mind right now, Trouble." My voice is shot, rough at the edges.

She turns her head on the cardboard, and smiles sweetly. "You. Always you."

The words hit me so hard they squeeze the air from my lungs, filling every crack inside my chest with a warmth so overwhelming it borders on unbearable.

"Fuck." I bury my face against the curve of her neck, breathing her in. "I've missed holding you every night." My arms tighten around her. "I don't think I can do this much longer."

Her fingers disappear into my hair, gently combing through the damp strands until some of the tension begins to melt from my shoulders.

"It won't be much longer," she whispers. "Just a few more days."

I pull back just enough to see her face.

"What do you mean?"

A spark flickers in her hazel eyes.

"Conrad invited me to dinner this Saturday. He said his girlfriend's coming over and wanted me to finally meet her."

For a heartbeat, I simply stare at her.