Home > Only Him (One and Only #2)(17)

Only Him (One and Only #2)(17)
Author: Melanie Harlow

She smiled and reached down, taking it in her hand. “Already? I’m impressed.”

“Good.” And because I didn’t want to spend the entire night fucking her in my hotel bathroom, I took her by the shoulders and steered her out into the room. Then I swept her off her feet and carried her over to the bed, laying her on top of the sheets where I’d rested earlier. The bedside lamp was on, and I reached to switch it off, but she grabbed my arm.

“Leave it on,” she whispered, reaching for me. “I like seeing you.”

I stretched out above her, settling my hips between her thighs, sealing my lips over one perfect breast, kneading the other with my hand. She gasped when I circled her taut little nipple with my tongue and dug her heels into the back of my legs when I sucked it into my mouth. Vowing I’d spend more time on her now that the first orgasm was out of my system, I lavished attention on every inch of her skin, and I didn’t let her put her hands on me. I kissed her in places I’d never kissed anyone—the inside of her elbow, the back of her knee, every single one of her toes. I swept my tongue across her collarbone, up the top of her spine, along the crest of her perfect round ass. I touched her in places I knew she liked and discovered new ways to make her moan and sigh and plead, her body quivering beneath me.

“Dallas, I need you inside me,” she said. This time when she reached for my cock, I let her have it, groaning at her touch. She grasped it firmly, working her hand up and down my shaft before teasing the slick crown with her fingertips. “Now. Please.”

I did as she asked, sliding inside her in one smooth stroke. Her hands moved to my ass, and she pulled me tight to her body, rocking her hips and grinding against me. I braced myself above her, shifting my weight to give her the angle she needed.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Deep like that. God, you’re so perfect. No one has ever made me feel this way.”

“Come again for me,” I whispered, unable to stop the speeding freight train inside me. I fucked her hard and fast, every nerve ending of my body on fire, praying she was with me. “I want to feel you.”

A moment later, neither of us could talk as the untamable need to possess each other fully took over and carried us off the edge of tension into the free-fall of release. As our bodies shuddered and stilled, we clung to each other, skin damp with sweat, breath hot and quick, hearts hammering against one another’s chests.

When the room came back into focus, I tipped onto my side and gathered her close, breathed her in.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I had two again. I don’t even know how you’re doing that. It’s so good. Why is it so good?”

Because I still love you. “I don’t know.”

“But … does this—with me—feel different to you?”

I could hear the nervous tremble in her voice, and it forced me to be honest. “Yes. It does.”

“Do you think maybe it’s because you were my first or something?”


She was quiet for a moment. “Remember that night?”

“Are you kidding me?” I pulled back a little and looked down at her. “Of course I do. It was a Thursday night in July. We were in my bed, and there was a thunderstorm going on. I was going to stop, but you said, ‘Don’t stop this time.’”

She smiled, but there was something sad in her expression, too. “I’ve never regretted it.”

“I’m glad.”

“But I always used to wish it was your first time, too.”

“It felt like it was. It was the only first time that mattered to me, anyway.”

She leaned away from me and gave me a dubious look. “Stop it. Do you mean that?”

“Yes.” Offering her these little truths about the past made me feel less guilty.

“That makes me happy.” She snuggled up to me again, then reached between us and ran her fingertips over the Arabic quote on my shoulder. It was so soothing, I got a little drowsy and probably would have fallen asleep if she hadn’t asked a question.

Her voice was soft and curious. “Do you really feel this way? Do you like being lonely because it makes you feel safe?”

“Yes,” I said, too tired or too guilty or too in love to lie to her any more tonight.

She sighed and kissed my chest, but said nothing more. A moment later, we were both asleep.






Out—I have to get out.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s coming for me. It’s moving too fast.

Why won’t the door open?

Tick, tick, tick.

Frantic, I look down and notice the door doesn’t even have a handle.

I’m trapped.


I try to scream, but choke on the sound. I try to bang on the door but can’t pry my hands from the clock. I’m sweating and crying, my heart is racing—because it’s real this time. It’s not a dream, and—

“Shh, you’re okay. You’re okay.” I heard a man’s voice above the out-of-control ticking of the clock. I opened my eyes.

Dallas was on his side, propped on one elbow looking down at me. One of his hands brushed the hair back from my forehead.

Confused, I bolted upright and glanced wildly around the room. “Where is it?”

Dallas sat up too. “Where is what, babe?”

“The snake.” But even as I said it, something in my brain recognized how ludicrous it sounded.

“God, I’m so tempted to make a joke right now.” He put an arm around me and kissed my bare shoulder. “But I won’t. There is no snake, Maren. You were having a nightmare.”

The fog was beginning to clear. The bedside lamp next to me was still on, allowing me to take in my surroundings. King-sized bed. Brown leather chair. Large flat-screen television mounted on the wall. Nothing was familiar. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my hotel room.”

As my pulse decelerated and reality sank in, the memory of last night came rushing back to me. “Oh. Right. The prom.” I looked under the sheet. “Guess it’s true what they say about the dress.”

He chuckled. “You awake now?”

“Yes.” I took a few deep breaths. The scent of sex and Dallas filled my head, grounding me. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. Can I get you anything? Water?”

I shook my head. “I’m okay. I just need to be still for a minute.”

He kissed my temple. “Okay.”

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on my breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly, letting the ebb and flow of it calm me. Dallas rubbed my back in gentle, soothing circles.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now can I make a joke about a snake in the bed?”

My lips tipped up, but my stomach still felt a little uneasy. “Go ahead.”

He sighed. “Nah. Wouldn’t even be fun. You sure you’re all right?”

I nodded, but I wasn’t. Not really. Why wouldn’t that stupid nightmare let me be? What if it had nothing to do with closure? What if Dallas and I parted ways tomorrow and I still couldn’t sleep at night? I blinked back tears and sniffed.

“Hey. Come here.” Dallas lay back on the pillows and reached for me, and I molded myself to his side with my head on his warm, broad chest. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “Talk to me. Do you have nightmares a lot?”

“Lately, I do. The same one.” I described the dream to him in full detail. “It sounds so stupid. But it feels so real while it’s happening. And I don’t know what it is or how to stop having it. I’ve tried everything.”

“Like what?”

“Meditation. Yoga. Detoxing. Melatonin. Clearing my chakras.”

“Your what?”

Laughing a little, I looked up at him. “My chakras. They’re sort of like spiritual focal points in the body. Energy flows through them, and if they’re blocked or cluttered with … stagnant baggage like fear or pain or negativity, you don’t feel right. You have to clear that stuff to reconnect with your inner wisdom and allow your consciousness to grow and guide you.”

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