Keeping London (The Flawed Heart Series Book 2) (7 page)

My entire body vibrates with intense need.

That’s the entirety of it right there. I need London—mind, body, and soul. Forever.

I love everything about her, even the things I shouldn’t. I find her spoiled nature—though she’s become less so as we’ve gotten to know each other—cute somehow. I love her witty personality and the way she always keeps me on my toes. Instead of pissing me off, like it should, the way she always challenges me turns me on like no one else ever has. I’ve become addicted to the way in which she loves me. Her love invades my body every day, filling me with a happiness that I’ve never known.

And this, right here, the way our bodies come together as if they were always meant to, as if they were the two opposing halves in a two-piece puzzle, I’ve never experienced anything close to the way I feel when I’m with London.

God, I love her.

“I need you, baby,” I say gruffly between panting, raw breaths, my palms now grasping her hips.

“You have me,” she says breathlessly against the skin of my neck.

As she licks from the collar of my shirt to my jaw, I grab ahold of the zipper at her side and slowly pull down. She shimmies the dress off until it falls at her feet. She stands before me in a strapless bra and a thong, looking like she stepped straight out of my dreams. I unclasp her bra and let it fall to the ground. My pulse leaps when she pushes down her red lacy thong.

I clear my throat. “Hell yes, this is exactly how I want you.” My eyes scan her perfect naked body.

She gives me a sexy smirk as she unzips my dress pants. Pushing my boxers and pants down to my thighs, she fists my dick. “And this is how I want you—in your tux, the only bare part being the one that’s going to be inside me.”

I thread my fingers through London’s hair once more, my mouth moving in a frenzy across her neck. I kiss down her body, paying attention to all her soft and sensitive parts. She moans as her back falls against the closet door behind her. Falling to my knees, I grab one of her ankles, right above where the strap of her high heel buckles. Lifting her leg, I bring it up until it’s draped over my shoulder, allowing me precise access to what I want to taste the most. My tongue moves languidly against her opening. She groans, grasping at my hair with one hand, while she digs her fingers into my shoulder with her other hand to steady herself.

“Loïc…” Her voice sounds almost pained as my name comes from her lips.

“I got you.” My tongue continues its assault alternating with my lips that suck gently. Using two fingers, I enter her and rub against her front wall.

London’s body starts to quiver. She lets her head fall back against the door as breathy moans fill the small space. She begins wildly bucking her hips while forcefully pulling my hair.

“Oh God, Loïc, yes.
Loïc
…” The second time she says my name, it’s more of a cry as her entire body starts to shake.

I continue to lick softly as her trembles slow. When she’s finished, I take her leg from my shoulder and place her foot back on the ground. I kiss up her body until I’m facing her. Her eyes aren’t completely focused as she lets out long breaths.

“Good?” I inquire smugly.

“The best,” she sighs out.

I grab the bottom of her ass cheeks and pull her up. She wraps her legs around my back. My lips find hers as I guide myself into her entrance. We moan collectively as I fill her completely. Digging my fingers into her ass, I start moving. She’s warm and wet and so fucking amazing.

I ravage her mouth, my tongue almost mimicking the movements below. I pound into her with a hot, fiery abandon, as if I can’t get enough. And I can’t. It’s never hard enough, deep enough, fast enough, or long enough. I always want more with London. Our connection is damn near perfection, and I want more. With her, I’ll always need more.

I bury my face against her neck. I can taste the salt on her damp skin and feel the soft vibrations of her moans against my lips. Her body starts to quake, and I feverishly pound into her. With each thrust, the small space fills with the rhythmic sounds of the door moving against the metal hinges and our cries of pleasure as we desperately chase our release. London finds hers first, and I follow right behind her, groaning low and deep, as my body empties within her warmth.

I hold London against me as we work to calm our breaths.

After a few minutes, she says, “My love of snooty parties isn’t that much of a flaw now, is it?”

“Hell no, especially if they all include fucking like that in a closet.”

“Will you be wearing a tux to all future benefits that we attend?” she asks.

“Um, yeah?” I answer hesitantly, not sure of where she’s going with this.

“Then, there will definitely be closet-fucking at future benefits.” She smiles.

“Yep…then definitely not a flaw. I actually love these types of things.”

London laughs. “I knew I could turn you.”

“Well, we didn’t do a very good job of being quiet. I think it’s safe to say that anyone passing through this hallway could have heard us.”

“It’s hard to be quiet when it’s so good,” she responds. “And don’t worry; no one’s walking around here. They’re all enjoying the art and the party.”

“Let’s hope so,” I answer as I look around.

Spotting a roll of paper towels, I hold London up with one hand and use my other one to rip off a long sheet. I hand it to London before setting her down. We both wipe up as best we can before discarding the dirty paper towels in the trash can next to the mop.

“God, I’m fucking hot as hell,” I say.

“Yes, you are,” London says in a seductive voice.

I lower my stare. “I mean, technically. I’m pretty sure my entire undershirt is drenched with sweat. It’s a sauna in here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think there are any AC vents in here. It’s like a weird steam room that smells of sex, sweat, and bleach.”

London pats her skin dry, so she can pull up the tight dress. I fix my attire and pat down my hair.

“How do I look?” London asks, holding her arms out to the sides and spinning.

“Sexy.”

“But not the I’ve-just-been-fucked sexy, right?”

I bite my lip. “I don’t know, babe. I think your curls are a little messier than before?”

She waves a hand in dismissal. “It’s fine. No one will notice.”

We exit the closet to an empty hallway, and it’s immediately twenty degrees cooler out here.

Thank God.

We follow the set of halls until we’re back in the main room.

“Thirsty?” London asks.

“Definitely,” I answer.

We head toward the bar, and we’re almost there when Georgia intercepts us.

“There you are. I’ve been looking—” She stops mid thought. “Wait a minute.” Her eyes scan between London and me. “You two just flipping did it somewhere, didn’t you?”

“Um, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” London shrugs. “How was Booger Boy?”

“Well, he had the decency not to go digging for gold tonight.” She holds her hands up. “Wait, you’re not changing the subject. You two just did it. Admit it.”

“So?” London shrugs again, but this time, she carries a guilty grin.

“OMG…I’m normally the scandalous one. What are you doing to my sister, Loïc?”

Before I can answer, London says, “Satisfying me.”

I turn to London, surprised, and then look to see Georgia’s reaction.

She’s nodding her head. “Hmm,” she says. “Well, can’t argue with that. But, Londy, babe…your hair definitely looks like you washed it with a full bottle of Just Been Fucked shampoo.”

“Really?” London asks.

“Yeah, and your chest is a little red.” Georgia nods toward London’s chest, which is, in fact, a little splotchy.

“Well, the chest thing is fine. I get red when I drink too much wine, and I’ve been drinking a lot tonight.” She winks at her sister. “Can you find me a ponytail holder? I’ll just put my hair up. You know, I guarantee Mom has one in her purse.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you at the bar.” Georgia takes off.

When Georgia meets us at the bar, she hands London a hair tie before saying, “I get that you two can’t keep your hands off each other, but that was a bold move, doing it here.”

“Well, we knew we wouldn’t get a chance any other time this weekend. So, we thought, why not?” London answers as she swoops her hair up into a ponytail.

“Why’s that?” Georgia asks.

“Why’s what?” London responds.

“Why won’t you get another chance this weekend?”

“Because, obviously, with us all staying at your place, it doesn’t leave much privacy,” London says.

“Mom and Dad are staying at a hotel. You and Loïc get the guest bedroom, silly.” Georgia chuckles.

“Really? Why didn’t I know that?” London almost shrieks with giddiness.

“I have no idea. You’re not very observant though. That’s always been the plan. Didn’t you wonder why Mom and Dad didn’t have any luggage with them? They checked into the hotel before they came over this morning.” Georgia shakes her head and grins. “You two are a little lost in your La-La Loveland.”

“Huh. Well, sweet!” London responds.

“This weekend just got a hell of a lot better,” I cut in, to which the three of us start laughing.

London

“I thought my life was perfect before Loïc, but the longer I’m with him, the more I realize that it was lacking in so many ways.”

—London Wright

I know that I’ve recently professed Michigan to be my home, but sitting out on a balcony overlooking palm trees and a pool while sipping coffee in almost seventy degree weather at eight o’clock in the morning in November sounds more like a proper home, a home that I would love.

“I love it here,” I sigh dreamily. “Why on earth did I choose to go to college in Michigan?”

“I don’t remember. Was it because the University of Michigan is an amazing school?” Georgia says.

“Eh, I’m not sure. Yes, it is. But wasn’t there another reason?”

“A boy?” Georgia asks.

“Heck no. I didn’t choose my college based off of a crush.” I think of how I’m now planning my life around Loïc, but that’s different somehow. What I have with Loïc is real love, and that trumps everything else.

“We never lived there, did we?” Georgia scrunches up her face in concentration.

I can’t help but laugh. “Isn’t it crazy that we have to seriously think about where we’ve lived?”

“I know! Come to think of it, I think we were living in Chicago when you applied to school at U of M.”

“You’re right! I added Michigan to my list of college tours because of that lawyer friend of Dad’s who told me it was the best school ever.”

“Penis!” Georgia giggles.

I follow suit. “Yes, Mr. Penis!” I believe his correct surname was Penash, but Georgia and I’d use our preferred last name for him—behind his back, of course.

“Whatever happened to Mr. Penis?”

“Who knows? I haven’t seen him since Chicago.” I shrug.

“That’s so strange because he and his wife used to come to our house all the time for dinner parties.”

“I know, but that’s how it is with Dad’s friends. They’re always changing based on his location.”

“Well, cheers to Mr. Penis for getting you interested in Michigan. You would never have met Loïc or Paige had you not gone there.”

Georgia holds up her coffee cup, and I gently tap mine against hers in an odd morning toast.

“True. I think I chose Michigan because I had the most fun tour there. Yes, their academics are great, but their parties are pretty amazing.”

“It was nice seeing Mom and Dad, huh?” Georgia asks, changing the subject.

“It was. I was glad that Dad stayed all day yesterday. I can’t remember the last time we’ve spent two entire days with him.”

“It was great,” Georgia agrees. “Any thoughts on what you want to do when Loïc comes back?”

Loïc’s currently out, running. Today’s our last day in California, and a few minutes ago, Georgia listed off some possible activities we could do. I’ve been thinking about our options while we’ve been out here, sipping coffee.

“Yeah, I think Santa Cruz sounds fun.”

“Sweet! Santa Cruz, it is! I love it there,” Georgia says with excitement.

An hour and a half later, Georgia is parking in a space along Pacific Avenue, which is a picturesque tree-lined street with adorable little shops and cafés. We grab our beach bags and start walking toward the water.