A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 54: CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

KYLE

It took us longer than it should have to make it to my penthouse. Between the whiskey clouding my head and Ashley’s occasional drunken giggle, we were a mess—bumping into each other, nearly tripping over our own feet as we made our way inside the building.

The elevator doors slid open, and we stepped inside, the air between us thick and humming with something we weren’t ready to name.

Ashley leaned against the mirrored wall, her arms crossed. “I still can’t believe I agreed to this.”

I smirked, hitting the button for the top floor. “What, spending a little extra time with me? It’s the best decision you’ve made all year.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

The doors closed, the elevator starting its slow ascent.

A heavy silence settled between us, the kind that carried more weight than words ever could.

I glanced at her, taking in the way she chewed her bottom lip, the way her fingers gripped the strap of her purse like she was grounding herself. Like she knew—we both knew—exactly what this was.

A bad idea wrapped in the comfort of familiarity.

Ashley sighed, tilting her head back against the elevator wall. “You know, this is how horror movies start. Drunk girl follows her ex somewhere she shouldn’t and ends up murdered.”

I chuckled. “You think I’d murder you, Freckles?”

She peeked at me through lidded eyes, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “If you did, at least I wouldn’t have to pay rent anymore.”

I barked out a laugh. “Jesus. That’s dark.”

She shrugged. “Welcome to my brain.”

The elevator slowed, nearing the top.

The rest of our unspoken words spilled around us, one spark away from igniting.

Ashley’s eyes darkened, and the spark flared to life. Flames of emotion surged through the air, incinerating any inhibitions or rational thought. The only thing left was a gnawing, insatiable desire to kiss her before I died of deprivation.

She must’ve read the intentions scrawled over my face because her breaths turned ragged. Her lips parted, and that was all the invitation I needed.

One second, we were standing on opposite ends of the elevator. The next, my hands were on her waist, her body pressed against the cool metal wall, and my mouth was on hers.

Ashley gasped against my lips, her fingers tightening around my shirt, knuckles white as she tugged me closer. Like she needed this as much as I did. Like she wanted to drown in the fire crackling between us.

The elevator doors slid open to the quiet hallway of my penthouse, but neither of us moved. Neither of us cared. The world outside ceased to exist—the only thing that mattered was the feverish press of our bodies, the intoxicating taste of her lips against mine.

Somehow, we made it to the bedroom, hands roaming, mouths clashing, breathless and desperate. I kicked the door shut behind us, and our clothes fell in a careless trail across the floor.

Dress. Shoes. Shirt. Underwear.

Gone. Forgotten.

Ashley moaned when I backed her toward the bed, her skin burning beneath my touch as she fell onto the mattress. I followed, my lips tracing a path down her throat, lingering at the delicate pulse hammering just beneath the surface. Her scent—soft, sweet, uniquely her—wrapped around me, drugging me.

My fingers skimmed the curves of her body, committing each dip and rise to memory. I wanted to savor every second, every breathy moan that escaped her lips. But when my hand slid between her thighs and found her warm, slick, and ready for me, my restraint shattered.

So wet. So perfect. So mine.

Ashley whimpered, arching into my touch, her nails raking down my back. A sharp tug on my hair sent a delicious jolt of pain through me, but I welcomed it. I loved when she got greedy, when she lost herself in this as completely as I did.

“Please,” she panted, grinding against my fingers in search of more friction. “More. I need more.”

“More what?” I murmured, dragging my teeth over her nipple before soothing the bite with a slow, teasing lick. 

A wicked smile tugged at my lips as I pinned her hips with one hand, stopping her restless movements. The other toyed with her clit, circling, pressing, coaxing soft, desperate cries from her throat. “Tell me what you want, freckles.”

Ashley’s breath hitched, her fingers twisting into the sheets, knuckles turning white. “I want…” A sharp inhale. A shuddering gasp. “Oh God.”

I continued my descent, trailing kisses between the soft swell of her breasts, down the smooth curve of her stomach, and over the delicate rise of her hip bones. Every inch of her was fire against my lips—warm, intoxicating, utterly irresistible.

Her body trembled beneath me, anticipation tightening her muscles as I neared the apex of her thighs. Heat radiated from her skin, her breath coming in uneven gasps, but I didn’t rush. Instead, I paused, hovering just above where she needed me most.

I lifted my gaze, taking in the sight before me—flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes glazed with desire. So beautiful. So utterly wrecked for me.

“I asked you a question,” I murmured, my voice calm despite the storm raging inside me. My hand slipped between her legs, and I pushed a single finger inside her, feeling her clench around me in response. A choked cry fell from her lips.

“Tell me what you want,” I coaxed, curling my finger ever so slightly. “Or I’ll keep you right here all night.”

Ashley’s hips jerked against my hand, a soft whimper escaping her throat. “I want you inside me,” she panted, her desperation written in every breath, every movement.

I let out a low hum, adding a second finger, stretching her, teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes. My own control frayed at the edges as I felt how tightly she gripped me, how wet she was—how fucking perfect. But I wasn’t done playing.

“I am inside you,” I said, sliding in deeper before retreating with agonizing slowness. Her body arched, seeking more. “Be more specific.”

Ashley’s eyes snapped open, hazy and wild with need. “Fuck me,” she gasped. “I want your cock inside me. Please.”