Chapter 22

PEN

Her mouth opened wide for him, tongue seeking his as his hips dug into her. They crashed into her door and her hands rummaged for the doorknob.

"Hold on," she said, breaking away, laughing as his nose skimmed along her jaw. She twisted the knob, and they fell into her room, stumbling toward the bed.

His hand snuck around and grasped her ass, fingers inching ever closer to the heat between her legs, and Pen bit down on his earlobe, breathing hard as her arms tightened around him. Everything in her wanted to tear away his clothes, to straddle him as she'd done in the snow, and the memory of how he felt beneath her, how he'd hardened against her even then, made Pen blush.

Neil kicked the door shut behind them and carried her to the bed, laying her down. He tasted like beer and cinnamon, a strange, intoxicating mix that had her pressing her hips in closer, searching, wanting. Her hands glided over his shoulders and tangled in his hair, and Neil moaned into her as her nails scraped down his scalp.

And finally, alone in this room, it could be just him and her, two writers lost somewhere among the mess of this place.

His hand slid to her waist, thumb brushing the underside of her bra once more, digging in under the wire to lift it from her skin. She arched into him, gasping as his fingers skated across her breast, and she erased the small gap between them until her body was flush with his, her movements hungrier, her kisses sloppier.

Perfectly imperfect. She didn't understand why they'd hated each other before. She was angry at the world, sure, but she'd projected it on him. Wouldn't she have done the same in his position? Five years ago, wouldn't she have taken whatever publishing deal was offered to her, even if it meant changing everything?

He slipped one hand under her thigh and pulled her leg up and around him, the length of him pressing flush with her, and Pen refocused on him, on the feel of him. She clamped down on his bottom lip, dragging it between her teeth as she leaned back on the bed. He made a low sound that vibrated against her chest, and Pen scrabbled greedily at him, hands roaming over his shoulders and neck, diving into his hair.

"You feel so good," she said against his lips.

"Did you ever imagine this?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.

"Never in a million years."

And that, in its own strange way, was a kind of magic.

Neil kissed along her jaw, and she tilted her head, letting him in, hips crashing into his. He bit her there, in that special little place he'd found in the study, letting his teeth graze the soft skin behind her ear and down her neck, and her pulse spasmed beneath him, playing a melody against his mouth.

Pen wanted him, damn, she wanted him. Against all odds, against the things she'd felt for him a day ago, a week ago, a month ago, she wanted nothing and no one more than him. Screw the ghost, screw this castle and all the people who'd failed her over the years. He was here, and that's all that mattered. Pen slid out from under him and scrambled on top, her fingers splayed over his chest as she settled on his lap.

His fingers slipped into the belt loop of her jeans, tugging her hips closer, and she ground against him, making a frenzied sound as his fingers inched ever closer to her zipper. Pen could feel his hard-on through his jeans, feel what she—this close and this horny for him—did, and she rode his length, relishing the way he gasped her name against her ear. God, she was turned on. She could get off from this alone.

"Wait." He pulled away, his lust-glazed eyes struggling to focus on her. Their chests rose and fell together, hot breath mingling in the small space between them. "Fuck," he cursed. "You don't think we'll be the first to go if we have sex in a haunted castle?"

"What in the world convinced you that saying that out loud was a good idea?"

"Think about it, every horror movie ever has the couple dying when they're trying to, you know…" He mimicked thrusting and Pen covered her mouth and nose, snorting.

"Listen," she said, still laughing as she smoothed her hands over his face and scraped her nails through his light stubble, "if having sex right here, right now is our downfall, then I'll take it. I can imagine the headlines: Very Attractive Native Couple Found Dead with Their Pants Around Their Ankles in Haunted Castle. Did They Fuck Each Other to Death, or Was It Foul Play?"

He laughed and leaned up on his elbows. "Did you just call us a couple?"

"Did not."

"I think you did." His lips skimmed along her chin, and Pen sank into the touch. Her hands slid up his abdomen, skating across his warm skin, and she reached down with a coy smile, unzipping his fleece, then nudging it off him. She pressed her lips to his throat.

"Too many clothes," she said against his skin. His scent was even stronger along his neck, the musky aroma nearly making her dizzy as she reached between them with one hand and gripped the outline pressing against his pants.

"Is this for me?"

"Only… for you," he bit out.

Pen tightened her hold on him, squeezing, and Neil gritted his teeth, unable to look at her.

"Maybe we should—"

"Yes," she rasped.

She climbed off him and hurried to her duffel, searching through her things. Pen could feel his eyes on her as she riffled through her bag, producing a condom.

"Do you always carry a condom with you?" he asked.

Laughing, Pen stripped off her pants and sweater. Once she was down to her underwear and her tank top, she gently shoved him down and straddled him once more, the condom held between them. "If you're asking if I brought this knowing you'd be at the castle, the answer is no . I keep them on hand. In case."

"In case," he echoed, hands going to her hips. His thumbs drew gentle circles in her skin, squeezing and kneading.

Pen followed the movement with wide eyes. She used to be self-conscious about her body. She'd spent most of her childhood relatively thin until her curves had blossomed practically overnight, filling out her thighs and breasts until she felt like she'd snap in half. She was aware of the slight scarring on her thighs, on her breasts, but the way he gripped her, the way his hands skated across her, his nails digging in, made her feel like the sexiest woman alive. She didn't want to hide in front of Neil.

Leaning up and wrapping one hand in her hair, he pulled her closer, lips hovering over hers. The five seconds it took for him to kiss her was pure agony, and Pen bit down on his lip, eliciting another groan from deep in his chest. Grinning against his lips, Pen slid her fingers below the elastic of his boxers and the waistband of his jeans until he was firm in her hand. He was so impossibly hard for her, and she wondered if today wasn't the first time, if he'd ever thought about her like this before. Or if it was only the castle, the close proximity, the adrenaline rush. What if none of this was real? What if he didn't care about her in the way she was beginning to care about him? She pulled her hand out of his boxers, dipping her face into his neck and hair to hide her embarrassment.

He ran a thumb along her cheek. "Where did you go just now?"

"Have you ever… nope, never mind. We are not going there."

"Penelope."

Pen cleared her throat, blinking up at the canopy over the bed. "Is this new? You and me?"

He leaned back. "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever… felt this? Like, felt ? As in…" She gestured to their laps, cheeks blazing, and Neil laughed. She tried to move away, but he captured her around the waist and tugged her back, eliciting a matching groan from her.

"I can't even begin to tell you the number of times I found you infuriatingly sexy. I didn't want to, but I did." He nudged her tank top and bra down before he caught one of her nipples between his thumb and index finger, gently rolling it until it hardened. "That time you wore that blue dress to the Shelley Awards? The one with the slit up your thigh, and only one strap?" He blew out a breath exaggeratedly.

"I didn't even win, you did. How do you remember what I wore?"

"I didn't give a shit about winning, Penelope. I spent the night drooling over you and the next month fantasizing about what I'd do to you in that dress if I ever saw you again, knowing I would never act on it because you clearly hated my guts." Neil bent and sucked on her nipple, pulling until it popped free. "And last night? When you licked the whiskey from your hand?"

"You got turned on from that?" she croaked.

Neil cupped her chin gently, his expression suddenly serious. "I have spent the last several years treating you like a nuisance instead of the incredibly brilliant and attractive woman that you are because part of me thought you could never feel anything but animosity toward me. You underestimate yourself, Penelope Skinner."

Pen searched his features for any hint of a lie, but she found nothing. Her mouth crashed against his. Suddenly, they were all hands and lips and teeth and tongues, and Pen tightened her hold on him, her body writhing with his, wanting and needing and taking.

Pulling back and holding the condom wrapper in her teeth, she tugged his shirt over his head and stared down at him. He didn't have chiseled abs or a lean physique; in fact, Neil had a bit of a soft belly. Neil Storm spent his days bent over a laptop, thinking and writing, and something about that image only made her ache for him more.

Smiling, Pen reached for his pants. He inched backward until he climbed off the bed and stood at the edge, waiting. Her fingers smoothed down his chest and skimmed the soft skin below the waistband of his pants. He made a deep sound in the back of his throat, his skin hot to the touch under her hands. Pen took her sweet time unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers, and a fresh wave of heat slid between her already slick thighs at the sight of him.

She wrapped her fingers around him, slowly stroking, her thumb gliding over the tip. He moved against her as she pumped her hand along his length once, then twice, before she pulled the wrapper from between her teeth. Neil shook his head and gently pried the condom from her fingers before setting it aside.

"Not yet," he said.

"What do you mean? What are you doing?"

Grinning mischievously at her, he knelt. Gripping her thighs, he tugged her to the edge of the bed, snapping the elastic of her plain cotton underwear. The slight sting of pain made her gasp, and Pen reached up to squeeze her breast, watching him with a hungry expression. Nudging apart her knees, Neil tentatively slid down her tank top until it bunched just above her hips, his fingers skating across her shoulder and making her ache. She watched, transfixed, as he leaned forward and used his teeth to pull down her other bra strap. He cupped her full breast in his warm hand and sucked on its fullness, teeth clamping down on her nipple as his tongue encircled it. His other hand traveled down her stomach until he crushed the heel of his hand against the space between her legs, just as he'd done in the study.

Arching back, Pen whispered his name, small, slender fingers sliding into his curls as the pressure between her legs built. Pen's other hand tangled in the bedsheets, gripping tighter and tighter as she edged closer to release. But right as she was on the brink, he pulled his hand away. Pen opened her mouth, ready to complain, her hips lifting slightly as though to chase after him, when he kissed the delicate, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

"You don't have to," she protested shakily.

"Do you trust me?"

"Neil."

"Penelope."

Her lips parted as she stared down at him, at this man with curls that flopped every which way, who had gentle hands and piercing green eyes. Where would they be if she'd just approached him, been honest all those years ago?

They couldn't change the past, but they could change the future if she let him.

"I trust you." She nodded vigorously, her fingers pinching her nipple until the areola tightened and pebbled. She breathed shakily as she laid back, her eyes fluttering closed as Neil nudged aside her underwear, and his fingers brushed the spot where she was so ready for him. "I trust you," she repeated, for herself this time.

And she was glad, because his tongue knew exactly what to do. It slid between her folds, tasting and licking, slowly, sensually. Her back arched as one hand tightened in his curls, the other cupping the fullness of her breast. As he sucked and licked, he slipped in one finger, then a second, and finally a third until she felt like she was on the threshold of something incredible .

"You are so wet," he groaned, blowing cool air on her.

Pen's only answer was a low moan. She had no words for this, for him. They simply could not live up to this moment, and the sensation of his breath fanning over her clit was enough to silence Pen on the subject forever. His tongue dipped out once more to taste her, tentative and testing, and when her lips parted and another moan clawed its way out of her throat, Neil's tongue slid up her folds, lapping and licking, dipping and savoring. He moaned against her, and the buzzing electric feeling tipped her toward the edge.

"Neil."

He was kissing her, nipping at her, tasting her, and she didn't know why it had taken them so long. Why she'd been so goddamn reluctant to admit that she'd wanted him. Another wave of pleasure crashed into her at the sight of him between her legs, and her muscles coiled as the tension reached a crescendo. Pen's voice cracked as she cried out, and when she came, her thighs wrapped around him, his fingers and tongue only slowing when she loosened her hold in his curls. He grinned up at her, nose and lips shining and slick with her .

"Thank you," she panted.

"Are you going to be thanking me for every orgasm?"

"They're good orgasms."

Neil pressed a soft kiss to her thighs before he climbed over her, eyes locked on hers. As he settled above her, his hard length swept against the slick, warm space between her legs. Pen wanted him to ravish her; she wanted him to take his time. She was caught between both as his thumb slipped into the space between skin and fabric. Although her legs felt like jelly and her clit was swollen and sensitive, she desperately needed him.

"Please," she whimpered.

Nibbling her shoulder, Neil slid off her tank top, tossing it to some dark corner of the room before his hand traveled down to grip her thigh. His other hand inched up her body, toying with her breast, and she ground against him, wanting, waiting.

"You are so impatient," he said, kissing between her breasts.

She scraped her nails along his jaw to tug him to her mouth, but he shook his head as he sank even lower, his fingers bunching in her soaked underwear as he slid them off, tossing them away.

He kissed his way up her body slowly, eyes glued to hers as he tore open the packet and rolled on the condom before leaning over her, his tip nudging her opening. Smiling, Neil gently tugged off her glasses, depositing them on a nearby nightstand.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Swallowing, Pen nodded, wrapping her legs around his hips as her hands tightened on his back. "I'm ready."

She was not ready. She was not prepared for the way he felt, how good he felt. He slid in, inch by agonizing inch, devastatingly slow as her walls adjusted around him. Neil squeezed his eyes shut and stayed still and unmoving for a long moment. And when he finally moved, Pen's breath hitched as he pulled out before gliding back in, the long, emptying sensation making her shudder. And then he did it again.

And again.

She guided his hand from her hip to the heat building at her center, and his thumb drew circles over her clit as he thrust steadily. Her hips crashed in time with his, his tip hitting that small space in the back, a secret little pocket of pleasure that had her hips gyrating. Eyes fluttering closed, she leaned back on the bed, her nails digging into his biceps as he sped up. His breath huffed out, actions becoming quicker, less controlled, and he grunted as he bent and buried his face in her neck, pressing his lips against the sensitive skin just below her ear. She could tell he was close, so so close.

But Pen wasn't done yet.

"Wait, wait!" she called. He stopped immediately, his brow creased as he leaned away and stared down at her. Blushing, Pen cleared her throat. "Can I…" Oh god, she couldn't finish the sentence.

"Penelope?"

"Me… on top?" Complete sentences were an impossibility right now. Pen was mortified .

Neil's hand traveled down her body, over sweat-slick skin, and his fingers dug into the flesh at her hip. "Dear god, please." They flipped until he lay spread out beneath her, his hands going to her hips as she straddled him.

Gripping the bedpost behind him, she lowered herself down on him, eyes locked on his until she'd taken all of him. He felt so good, even better than before. She could take so much more of him like this. Hands tightening on the post for support, Pen undulated her hips, her body moving in time with his until she rode him faster, her motions frantic as she squeezed her eyes tight.

Panting, he sat up, one hand gripping her ass, the other slipping between them, guiding her toward the edge. Pen gasped his name as her hands slid from the bedpost, her nails digging into his back as she neared climax. It was so good, better than she could have ever imagined. Better than should have been possible for their first. She cried out as her knees went weak, her body spasming, and together they rode out the wave of pleasure, lips crushing together, breath mingling until finally, they slowed, skin glistening with sweat and bodies weak.

They stopped, foreheads pressed together, chests rising and falling as their heartbeats thumped frantically. Neil pulled back and cupped her face in his hands as their bodies finally went still. "Thank you," he panted.

"What for?"

"For the orgasm."

Laughing breathlessly, she smacked his arm.

"Okay, okay," he relented. Neil nuzzled her jaw with his nose, his breath fanning across her sweaty skin and making her shiver. "For giving me a chance. For giving us a chance."

Pen smiled. Us . She liked that. She liked that very much.

She stood on shaky legs and held out a hand to him. "What say you to a shower?"

"Yes, please."

He took her hand and followed her toward the bathroom. Never in a million years had Pen imagined showering with Neil Storm, let alone having sex with him, but things changed.

People changed. And as she slipped beneath the steady stream of hot water and Neil reached out to lather her hair with shampoo, Pen wondered, Who'd have thought?

Because even she did not have the creative genius necessary to have foretold this. Penelope Skinner and Neil Storm together.

Had the world ended?