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He laughs at me. “Because?” he says, totally okay with the fact that he’s stark naked in my bedroom. “That’s not a reason, Cari. That’s a conjunction.”
My eyes narrow on his face. “Whatever.” I throw my covers back and turn, moving away from him, toward the other side of the bed. I’ll take a shower and get dressed. Boston might be on a rainy-day schedule but I know Tess is at the garage, business as usual. It’s only two blocks away. I can make it. I’ll go hang out with her. Where it’s safe. I’ll have to put up with Conner’s bullshit but—
Patrick’s hand closes over my ankle, dragging me back across the bed. I flip myself over so I can glare up at him.
Jesus. Does he have to be so naked? And perfect?
“What?” I say the word through gritted teeth, jerking against his hand still clamped around my leg.
“Tell me why.” He’s not smiling anymore. Even though he keeps asking the question, he looks like he’s afraid of the answer. “Why can’t you stay here with me?”
I squeeze my eyes shut against the sight of him so I can think straight. So I don’t have to look at him when I say it because I’m just as afraid of the answer as he is. “Because I’m tired, Patrick,” I say. “I’m tired and I don’t want to do this today.” I look up at him, shaking my head. “Not today, okay?”
He loosens his grip on my ankle but doesn’t let go. “Do what?”
“This. Us—whatever this is.” I look away, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “Not today, okay?”
The hand on my ankle loosens even more, its fingers gentle as they slide up the length of my calf to stroke the back of my knee. My nipples stiffen instantly, my panties dampening almost as fast. “Patrick,” I whisper. “Please…” I’m not sure if I’m asking him to stop touching me so I can run away or to keep his hands on me so I won’t. “Please.”
“Delay the game on account of rain?” he says, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth but there’s something else. Something solemn about the ways looking at me. Something that squeezes around the edges of my heart. He’s asking for a truce. A time-out. He doesn’t want to fight anymore. Play games anymore. At least for today.
It’s ridiculous, the idea that we can stop fighting and fucking with each other, just because it’s raining and I open my mouth to tell him so. Instead, I nod my head. “Okay,” I say softly, my heart in my throat.
“Okay,” he echoes, a slow smile spreads across his face and he lets me go so I can scoot over on the bed to make room for him.
He slips under the covers and reaches for me. I expect his hands to close over my breasts. Reach between my legs. Tear off the paint splattered T-shirt and boy shorts I fell into bed wearing. To get me naked so he can live out whatever unfulfilled fantasy he’s still harboring about us.
Instead, he pulls me close, turning me in his arms so that my back is pressed against his wet chest, instantly soaking the back of the shirt I’m wearing, the mattress and sheets under us. “You’re wet,” I say because I’m nervous and I can’t seem to stop saying stupid, lame things.
“I know,” he says, pressing a soft kiss against the back of my neck. “Sorry about your bed.” His lips brush against my nape when he says it and I melt a little. Tucking an arm under the pillow we’re sharing, his other arm circles my waist, his hand cupped around my ribcage. I lay there for a moment, my breathing shallow. His cock presses against my backside, reminding me of Saturday night. How he waited for me in the dark. The things he did to me. The things I did to myself because he told me to. No, that’s not fair. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. Patrick doesn’t have to make me do anything. All he has to do it say the words and I’m more than willing to comply.
“It’s your bed,” I whisper, pressing my thighs together to try to back off some of the heat building between them. “I’m just borrowing it.”
“You’re the reason I bought this bed.” The hand on my ribcage shifts, his thumb brushing across my breast, my nipple stiffening under his touch. “I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you into it,” he says softly, his breath warm against my skin. “The things I’d do to you once I did.”
The pad of his thumb skates across my nipple again. The feather-light pressure of it tingles against my clit and I’m instantly soaked. “Show me.” I say, breathless, waiting for him to touch me. Wanting him to.
“I am,” he says, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer, holding me against him. His chest moves against my back, his breathing slow and even. His mouth a fraction of an inch from the back of my neck. His thumb curved around the swell of my breast. Rain batters the roof and windows, the beating of it furious and wild—completely at odds with the slow and steady drum of his heart, keeping time with mine.
Forty-seven
Patrick
For the second timethis morning, I wake up to rain. The torrent of water sloshing against the skylight above the bed, a fast, steady drum. The rhythm of it holds me in a trance. Half-asleep, I can feel Cari pressed against me. The rise and fall of her chest beneath my arm, her hand settled on top of mine. The swell of her hips, her ass pressed against me. For a second, I think it’s a dream. The kind I’ve had almost every night since she moved in. The kind that has me waking up hard, frustrated and alone.
I’m throbbing, so stiff and swollen it’s almost painful and I flex my hips, instinctively trying to relieve the pressure. The ache gives way to pleasure and I realize this isn’t a dream. I’m in Cari’s bed. She’s pressed against me, shifting in her sleep at the feel of my cock against her ass. I do it again, half-aware that if I don’t stop, I’m going to come all over her sheets like a teenager. Right now, I don’t care. I do it again. And again.
Cari stirs, a soft, breathless moan escaping her mouth as she rocks her hips against me. The hand resting on top of mine reaches back, her fingers digging into my ass, holding me against her, meeting my thrusts.
With a groan, I back off, putting space between her hips and mine even as the hand on her ribs searches for the hem of her T-shirt. She moans again, the sound of it tinged with disappointment.
“Shhh…” Finding the hem of her shirt, I slip my hand under it, my fingers skimming along her belly until it closes over her breast. “No games,” I whisper into the curve of her neck. “Not today.” Her nipple is already stiff, so sensitive her breath catches in her throat when the rough skin of my palm brushes against her tender flesh. I caress her, my mouth on the back of her neck. Teeth scraping along the slope of her shoulder, Tongue tracing along the shell of her ear. “I’m going to fuck you,” I say softly against her flushed skin, pressing my lips to the tender spot behind her earlobe. “Come inside you.”
“Yes…” Her fingers, still gripping my ass, dig in deeper, trying to pull me close again. “Patrick, please…”
I almost give in. I almost jerk her panties down and move her thighs apart so I can slip my bare cock between them. So I can pound myself into her wet, swollen pussy from behind. Fill her up with my cum. Instead I move over her, turning her onto her back, spreading her thighs so I can kneel between them.
I look at her, my throat going dry at the picture she makes beneath me. Her blue eyes are dark, heavy-lidded with desire. Lush mouth slightly open, lower lip caught between her teeth. Hair, a honey-colored tangle around flushed cheeks. Her T-shirt rides high on her ribcage, exposing the underside of her tits. “Jesus, Cari…” , I use both of my hands to push it up even farther until it’s bunched under her arms, banded softly across her chest, her nipples stiffening and swelling beneath my gaze. I cup them, squeezing their hard peaks until she cries out. Leaning over her, I tongue her nipples, sucking them into my mouth, my hips flexing against hers, rubbing my cock along the crotch of her boy shorts. “I want to fuck you so bad…”