//CLARA//
I jolted awake, my heart hamring against my ribs like I’d been dropped into ice water. For a disorienting mont, I didn’t know where I was. Then the weight of an arm around my waist registered, heavy and warm and unmistakable.
Casimir.
I’d fallen asleep curled against him, both of us fully clothed, nothing having happened between waking and sleeping. My head had been on his chest. His hand had been in my hair. And I’d just... drifted off, like so exhausted child after a tantrum.
The dawn light filtering through the terrace doors painted everything in soft amber, gilding the dust motes and catching on the sharp planes of his face.
I found myself staring, unable to look away, my fingers itching to trace the line of his jaw, the hollow of his cheekbone. He looked younger in sleep, the perpetual tension in his shoulders finally eased, his dark hair mussed against the pillow.
Sothing in my chest tightened, a strange pull that made my breath catch.
Fuck. I actually thought the word with genuine panic. Am I falling in love with him?
The realization hit like a physical blow. I scrambled for explanations, for distance, for anything that would make this make sense.
No. No. No... It can’t be?
It’s Eleanor. Her stupid, pining diary energy is infecting . I’m just absorbing her programd responses. It’s chemical. It’s a post-hookup endorphin spike. It’ll pass.
But the more I tried to convince myself, the more hollow the explanation sounded.
Eleanor wasn’t here. Eleanor was a construct, a role I’d stepped into. These thoughts in my head—goddamnit, he’s beautiful, I want to keep him, I want to ruin him for anyone else—those were mine.
I settled on a compromise that felt safer, more manageable. Infatuation. A crush. That’s all. You just fucked him, Clara—of course your brain is confusing adrenaline and endorphins with sothing deeper. It’s chemical. It’s temporary. It’ll pass.
I was so deep in my own turmoil that I didn’t notice the shift in his breathing, the subtle tension returning to his body. I didn’t register that his eyes had opened, dark and knowing, fixed on my face with undisguised amusent.
I only realized what was happening when his hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, pulling down into a kiss that started playful. It was just a brush of lips, a teasing pressure, then it deepened with devastating speed.
All the thoughts I’d been wrestling with vanished, replaced by a moan I couldn’t hold back.
His mouth was warm, tasting faintly of sleep and the lingering ghost of last night’s whiskey. I lted into it, my hands finding his coat and gripping tight, my body arching against him without conscious decision.
He pulled back just enough to look at , a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Good morning, little bird."
"How long have you been awake?" I whispered.
"Long enough." His voice was still rough with sleep, and the sound of it sent heat skittering down my spine.
"How long is long enough?"
He didn’t answer. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.
"You were thinking very loudly."
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I was not—"
He silenced with a kiss, but I pulled back before I could drown in it, glaring at him. He chuckled, and the sound of it did sothing dangerous to my chest.
"You’re insufferable."
"Says the one who had been caught staring."
"I was not staring. I was observing. There’s a difference."
"Is there?"
"Stop talking."
This ti, I was the one who pulled him. The kiss turned hungry, desperate, our tongues sliding together in a rhythm that made my head spin.
But then his hands moved to my waist, and I felt the difference imdiately. His grip tightened, restraint cracking on the edges. For a mont I thought he’d crush against him the way he had against that tree. Instead he stilled, his entire body going rigid with the effort of holding back.
His forehead dropped to rest against mine, our breath mingling, both of us shaking slightly.
"Clara, I can’t... not this ti." The raw wanting in his words, layered over such careful control, made sothing in ache. "I don’t want to hurt you."
I looked at the restraint carved into every line of his face. At the desire he was actively fighting, not for his own sake, but because he thought he needed to protect from himself.
A slow smile curved my lips. Oh, you beautiful idiot.
"Then don’t," I said, pushing his back into the mattress, and slid down his body slowly, watching his eyes go dark as midnight, his breath catching sharp in his throat. "Let ."
I dropped to my knees between his spread legs, my hands working at his belt, his buttons, freeing him with efficiency that made his hips jerk upward involuntarily.
He was already hard, thick and heavy in my hand, and I wasted no ti. I licked a slow stripe up his length, savoring the salt-sweet taste of him before taking him deep into my mouth in one wet slide.
"Fuck—" The word tore out of him, a broken sound, his hands fisting in the bedsheets.
I humd around him, feeling the vibration travel through his body, and he cursed softly, his hips jerking involuntarily.
I worked him with my mouth and hand in tandem, my tongue swirling around the sensitive head, my throat opening to take him deeper still. His fingers tangled in my hair, not pulling, not guiding, simply holding on as his control visibly fractured.
I took him deeper still, until my nose pressed against his abdon, and held there, my throat relaxed around him, before pulling back to gasp for breath. Strings of saliva connected my lips to his cock, obscene and wet, and I used my hand to pump him while I caught my breath, my eyes locked on his face.
"Better?"
"God, woman—"
I didn’t let him finish his words, as I took him again, relentlessly this ti. My head bobbing, my hand twisting at the base, my other hand cupping and rolling his balls. His breathing turned ragged, his grip in my hair tightening almost painfully, and I knew he was close. I doubled my efforts, hollowing my cheeks, taking him as deep as I could manage, and felt the mont he broke.
He ca with a strangled groan, his hips bucking, his release flooding my mouth in thick pulses. I swallowed greedily, milking him with my throat, not releasing him until he was spent and trembling beneath .
I released his cock with a popping wet sound, licking my lips clean, and looked up at him with a satisfied smile.
He stared down at , chest heaving, dark hair falling across his forehead, looking completely undone.
"You...beautiful destruction of mine," he rasped, reaching for .
I let him pull up, let him kiss deep and thorough, tasting himself on my tongue, his hands shaking slightly as they cupped my face. But when he tried to flip back onto the bed, I stopped him, my heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to examine.
"I’m quite still sore, Casimir," I lied, but it did the trick.
He imdiately went rigid, his restraint slamming back into place.
"Is there anything else I can do to alleviate the pain?"
I felt guilty. Damn, I wanted him too badly, but I cursed Eleanor’s feelings for ssing with mine.
"A hot bath will do," I whispered, kissing him softly so that he would feel less guilty about hurting . "But I can’t do that if you’re hogging in bed. Hattie’s gonna co through the door any ti now."
"Right, I have to go." He nodded. "Before I forget why I shouldn’t take you again right now."
He kissed one more ti before he stood, adjusting his clothes with shaking hands, and walked to the door. This ti he used it like a civilized man, not scaling walls like so desperate Roo.
At the threshold he paused and looked back at once. He smiled—genuinely, as if he had never been this happy in his life—and then he was gone.
I sat there alone in the room, the morning light growing stronger, and wrapped my arms around myself.
God, Eleanor. If you’re still in there sowhere... help out. Because I think I’m in deep.
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