The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

It’s nearly midnight. Dinner ended so long ago, I just snuck some cheese and crackers from the board still sitting out on the counter. Frank Sinatra’s crooning about it being a white Christmas, Eira’s simmer pot is still making the house smell of oranges and cinnamon and nutmeg, and cozy, tipsy chatter fills the room.

It’s the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had.

Worth slides his hand over my thigh from where he sits next to me at the head of the table. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“How lucky we are to know such great people, and what a lovely evening I’ve had.” I turn my face to his and steal a kiss.

“It’s like you never left,” he says. “And it’s better than before at the same time.”

I nod. “I feel it too.”

“What are we doing tomorrow?” he asks. “We could fly back to Cincinnati if you’d like?”

I shake my head. “No, I want to stay here in New York. Maybe we can go house hunting.”

“You don’t want to stay here?” he asks.

I don’t, but I will if it’s important to him. “It might be nice to have a fresh start. A place that’s not yours, but ours.”

“That makes sense. Though I want a house,” he says. “I’m going to get you pregnant and we’re going to need the space.”

I press my lips tight together to stop myself from smiling. “You planning on enacting that plan tonight?”

“I’m going to do my best.” His eyes grow hooded and he looks at me like he wants to fuck me right here, right now.

I saw my teeth against my bottom lip and tilt my head. “Maybe we should aim for a year from now. I think I want you to myself for a little while.”

“I might be able to live with that idea,” he says.

Under the table, he links his fingers through mine. The heat of his skin sets something off in me—a timer racing toward zero. I’m done with having a houseful of people. It’s time for Worth and me to be alone.

“It’s officially Christmas,” Efa says. “Happy Christmas!” she raises her glass and everyone joins in the toast.

“It’s time for everyone to be going,” Worth says, and I can’t help but laugh. It’s such an un-Worth-like thing to say. He’s usually so focused on everyone else’s happiness, he doesn’t think about what he wants. But right now, the smolder in his eyes says he wants me. I like it. It’s hot.

“You’re right, bud,” Fisher says, pushing out his chair and standing.

“I have dinner with the fam at the Peninsula tomorrow,” Jack says. “I need some sleep to be able to endure it.”

“Say hi to Pat for me,” Fisher says.

I’m not sure who Pat is, or why Jack is so bummed about spending Christmas with his family, but I’m going to be around this group for the rest of my life, so there’s plenty of time to find out.

Everyone starts to leave and heads into the hallway to retrieve coats and boots.

“What about you, Byron?” Leo asks. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I’m headed to Colorado,” he says “Change is afoot.”

“What does that mean?” Leo asks.

Byron shrugs. “Just that I’m going to be spending a lot more time there from now on. I’m not sure how much I’m going to be in New York over the next couple of years.”

“What?” everyone choruses at once.

“You’ll have to come out and visit,” he says. Everyone starts asking him questions, but he keeps quiet, wrapping his scarf around his neck with a flourish. As he opens the door, a whoosh of cold air comes in and he announces, “Everything will be revealed. Good night and merry Christmas, my friends.”

With that, he disappears into the dark.

After hugs and promises of texts, calls, and visits over the next few days, Worth finally closes the door.

We’re alone.

At last.

I’m shaking, I want Worth so much. Heat radiates from between my thighs and I transfer my weight from foot to foot as I squirm under his stare.

“Come here,” he says.

I exhale a sharp breath.

“You seem a little wound up.”

“I want you,” I say, my voice breathy.

“Say it again.”

“I want you, Worth. Please.”

He closes his eyes in a long blink, like he’s savoring my words. Like he’s been waiting to hear them and now that he has, he can relax.

He cups my face in his hands and places a kiss on my lips. “Good girl.”

My nipples pebble against the lace of my bra and my breathing is labored. Everything he does makes me feel worshipped and desired and cherished. I smooth my hands up his chest and start to undo the buttons on his shirt. He pulls my hand into his and leads me upstairs. When we get to his bedroom, I realize I’ve never seen it before. It’s dark and grand and somehow doesn’t feel like him. There are dark gray velvet drapes at the windows and a brown leather couch at the end of the biggest bed I’ve ever seen. The sheets are a crisp white, with a velvet comforter folded at the bottom.

I glance at Worth, who’s watching me.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

“This room doesn’t feel like you,” I say. “Or maybe it’s a part of you I don’t know.”

“You know all of me,” he says. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I’m not worried,” I say, as he stalks over to me and slips his hands around my waist. “I know who you are in your heart, but we’re still getting to know each other.”

“In all the ways that don’t count,” he says. “I know you to your core, in all the ways that do.”

I smile and press my palm against his cheek. He always knows what to say to make me feel better.

He gathers my top and pulls it over my head. I shiver.

“You won’t be cold for long,” he says.

He releases the clasp of my bra and lets it drop to the floor. Worth catches my breasts in his hands, kneads them together and kisses me once quickly before flicking my nipples, making me gasp.

A small grin teases at his lips. “I know what you like,” he says, his words melting me like butter in a hot pan. He knows better than I do.

He kneels, undoes my jeans, and takes them off. I’m entirely naked standing in front of Worth, who’s fully clothed.

“Put your sweater back on.”

I frown, not knowing if I understand what he’s saying at first.

He just nods, as if to say, Yes, you heard me right.

I turn and find my discarded lilac sweater on the bed behind me. I slip it over my head and push my arms through the sleeves.

“Lie on the bed,” he says. “Face up. For now.”

I do what he asks, pushing myself up on the high mattress and shifting so I’m lying in the middle of the bed in nothing but my sweater. Is he worried about me getting cold?

I don’t have time to think any further when he crawls over me, lifting my sweater. I shift to try and help make it easier. Why have I just put this on if he’s just going to take it right off?

“Don’t move,” he says. “Let me.”

He shifts the sweater up, up, up, gently lifting my arms overhead as he goes. But when the sweater is halfway over my head, he stops. My eyes are covered, my upper arms held in place over my head.

“You can’t see. And you can’t touch me,” he says. “Just feel.”

I gasp. He planned this.

Suddenly a little self-conscious, I cross my ankles.

“No,” he snaps and uncrosses them. Then he pushes my legs as far apart as possible. I can’t see if he’s looking at me. I don’t know if he’s checking to see if I’m wet. I don’t know what he’s doing.

I hear a rustle of clothes. Is he undressing? I imagine his hard body, the hair that covers his pecs and trails down to his cock.

I let out a gasp at the thought of his cock and how big it is. How it seems to vibrate when it’s inside me. I can’t stay still. I shift my hips, thinking of how he’ll be touching me soon. How he’ll be inside me—his tongue, his fingers, his hard dick, shoving into me, plowing deeper and deeper.

I let out another gasp.

“Oh, you’re so ready for this, aren’t you?” he asks.

“Yes,” I call out. “Please.”

“I can see it. I can see how wet you are. I can smell it.” He groans and the bed dips beside me.

Is he going to touch me?

Where?

How?

When?

“Please, Worth.”

He growls, and I feel him hover over me, his body caging mine.

“God, Sophia. All the things I want to do to you.”

“Yes,” I gasp. I want all of them. Right now.

“And you want that too. That’s the best part. You and I want exactly the same things.” I feel his breath on my neck, followed by his tongue. He lowers his body to mine and I feel his erection on my thigh. I shift, trying to get closer, to urge him inside me.

“Not yet, baby,” he says. “Not yet. First I’ve got to get myself reacquainted with this body.” He trails kisses down my throat and sets to work, squeezing and pinching one nipple while biting, grazing, and sucking the other. My breaths grow shorter. Everything feels even more intense than it usually does. I don’t know if it’s because I can’t see, or because it’s been so long, but pleasure bursts through me harder and harder with every touch.

“Worth,” I moan. “I’m so close.”

He chuckles and releases me. “Oh no. Not yet, princess.”

I whimper at the lost contact and the subsequent ebb of my orgasm.

“Soon,” he whispers, and I feel his breath against my pussy. His attention has shifted but I don’t know if I can take his tongue without coming immediately.

He works his tongue against my clit and I arch up from the bed. I’ve waited too long for this. I’ve wanted it too much.

He grasps my hips, holding me in place. “Don’t come, Sophia. Not until I tell you.”

I whimper. I have no idea how I’m supposed to stop myself.

He delves between my folds and I try and block out the sensation of the slip of his tongue, the press of it against my clit, the way I feel him right at the center of my being. My breathing comes heavier now. Sharper. Faster.

It’s as if he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t alter his plan. He just holds me still, pressing, licking, tasting, and growling against me like I’m a feast for him alone.

Then all of a sudden his tongue is gone, and all I can feel is the throb of my pussy in the comparatively cool air.

“Good girl, Sophia. Now you can come.”

I feel a breeze against my sex. It’s Worth. He’s blowing against my clitoris.

A thousand butterfly wings beat against my chest. My insides turn inside out as I dissolve into an orgasm without Worth laying a finger—or his tongue—on me.

All I see is a cluster of stars exploding against my eyelids. My entire body begins to shake.

I hear the rip of a condom packet from somewhere. I can’t feel Worth anywhere. I don’t know if he’s on the bed. I’m so disorientated—high from my climax.

And then I feel him everywhere.

His body slots against mine and his mouth is on my neck, then my lips. His kisses are teasing, wet, and possessive.

“You’re such a good girl, Sophia,” he growls against my skin. He pulls my sweater off my eyes, off my arms, and suddenly I’m free. The desire I see in his expression is a relief. I know he wants me, but seeing confirmation feels good. It seems almost impossible that he could want me as much as I want him, but seeing him, I believe it.

We lock eyes and he pushes into me. I cry out—it’s not painful, I’m so wet it couldn’t be. But it’s a shock. I forgot how big he is, how full I feel with him inside me. How connected I feel to him when he’s fucking me.

When he’s as deep as he can go, he stops, as if he knows he needs to let me get used to him. I spread my legs wider.

“This,” I breathe out, holding his gaze. “Forever.”

He nods. “That’s right.” He starts to move, drawing out slowly and pushing in, more quickly this time.

I cry out again, because it’s almost as much of a shock as it was a moment ago.

“That’s right, Sophia. I get to fuck you forever.”

Finally, I can move my hands and touch him. I smooth my fingers over his shoulders, pressing into his hard skin, the muscles bunched and tight with effort.

He reaches down and presses my thigh wider, trying to go deeper, like he wants to own me. But he already does. Everything I have, everything I am, is his.

I slide my hand down his chest. He glances down at where my palm presses over his heart. Then I go lower, circling my fingers around the base of his cock. He alternates between looking me in the eye and where we’re joined—right where he’s fucking me.

“You feel so good,” he says. “Like you were designed just for me.”

I let out a squeal as he shifts us around and lifts my leg over his shoulder.

When he pushes in again, it’s deeper this time—the edge of too much.

“No,” I let out, barely able to catch my breath. “You were designed for me.”

His skin begins to glisten with sweat as he moves over me. His jaw tightens and he clenches his teeth.

I reach for him. I want his body pressed to mine. I want to feel his weight—his solidity. I want us joined. He shifts and lies over me, my palms coming to rest on his back.

“Don’t leave me again,” he whispers into my ear.

“Never,” I say. “Never, Worth. I promise.”

I don’t know if it’s the promise I make to him or the fact that this is the first time we’ve had sex since our breakup. But it’s as if the physical binds with the mental and emotional, my connection to this man ballooning suddenly and all at once. I have an overwhelming sensation of giving myself to Worth, physically and emotionally, and him doing the same in return. I don’t think I could feel more need for a person than I do for Worth, but right now, I don’t need anything but him. Sex has transformed into a reaffirmation of our love for each other—our commitment to forever. It’s a wedding, but better.

I don’t know if it’s possible for our love to keep growing, or for our connection to be any deeper. It already feels like the roots of our union go to the core of the earth. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, but I know that it will always be this way between us. We were made for each other.