Page 41 of Contingently Yours

Andrew

“You should have stopped hating me sooner,” I tease, but it’s not even a joke.

How did we get from there to here? From there to a place where he’s trusting me with his body. A place where we’re sharing something that feels like a lot more than just fucking.

He makes another breathy noise that sounds like it was meant to be a laugh, but he’s just not capable of it right now. I want to hear him. If I don’t, I’m afraid I’ll start babbling all the nonsensical things running through my brain like mine, mine, mine .

“Say something,” I beg against his neck, doing my best to control my slow thrusts. He doesn’t. He just lets out a warbled moan, grips my biceps, and raises his feet off the bed. Hooking them over my hips, I gulp for air at the new angle, the new depth.

Shit. He shouldn’t have done that. My balls are about ready to explode.

A person who feels this incredible should come with a warning label.

The brush of his sac against my navel each time I bottom out, the feel of his soft tuft tickling me, the restriction of his channel from my base to my tip, and the way he looks so lost…

My God, each time I look into his eyes, it’s like seeing a silent request for me to both find him and never retrieve him from whatever plane we’ve discovered.

“What does it feel like?” I plead, trying again.

“Good,” he pants, closing his eyes and digging his fingertips into the back of my shoulder blades. “Too good.”

It is, and I’m happy with his report. While he’s the kind of person who’d settle for mediocrity and give thanks for it, I’m still the opposite. What the hell am I going to do if nothing after this ever feels the way this does?

“There’s no such thing,” I inform him.

He chuffs like he thinks it’s more of my greedy sarcasm.

I’d frown if every cell in my body wasn’t lit up with pleasure.

He deserves too good , and the fact that he doesn’t know it has me groaning in frustration.

I bury the sound in his mouth, gripping the underside of his knee and letting my hips give in to the sweet torment that is everything Lucas.

His noises erupt when I come up for air—maddening little half-moans that tell me he’s enjoying the new pace.

He stares between us at the slap of our bodies, his face painted with fascination and desire.

I can feel the tension coiling in my lower back. Can feel my toes starting to curl. I’ve gone so hard that it’s to the point of pain.

“I’m going to come,” I warn him, because that’s all it is, a warning.

I don’t know how this is all supposed to go down, but I don’t want to pull out of the happy home he’s made for my cock.

When his gaze flicks to mine, I hold it.

The urge for him to see me come undone is powerful.

His eyes scan my face as if he’s looking for any sign of change, anticipating my threat.

He wants to see it too. That’s all it takes.

I come, looking into Lucas’ bewildered eyes, watching surprise flash over his face.

His mouth falls open, and he lets out a strange little cry.

He was the storm that built this fevered pitch inside me.

Now he’s also the sanctuary from it as I release, shuddering violently.

I want to hang onto the reins of the high, but have the wherewithal to scramble and get my hand between us, wrapping it around his cock.

His fingers dig into my back. Eyes slamming shut, he arches his head back and pulses in my grip.

I didn’t think I could be more awed by him, but he clenches around me over and over.

It’s a beautiful phenomenon, like his body is thanking mine.

I ride as many waves as I can, blinking through our heady aftershocks until my arm gives way.

Collapsing on top of him, I let my eyes slip closed and try to catch my breath.

Too good, just like he said. When his fingers finally go slack on my back and my cock has somehow slipped out of him like it’s afraid more would kill it, I ease onto my side.

I find those dark eyes of his sliding to mine, curious and half-lidded.

His chest is still rising and falling along with his stomach, where the soft hair is slick, stuck to his skin.

We’re both a fine mess, and the air smells like I detonated a Lucas bomb in the room.

With great effort, I rise on one elbow and lean over him, still feeling sapped from that stupid thorn. “Be right back,” I whisper, planting a quick kiss on his swollen lips.

There is no grace in how I gangle my way to the bathroom. Frankly, I don’t know how it’s possible that I can walk right now, but I imagine Lucas is in a similar state—and with a sore ass to boot. I fetch two cloths and dampen them.

He gives me a strange look when I return and hand one to him, but says, “Thanks.”

“You good?” I inquire, flopping back on the bed and motioning to his lower half with my chin.

If I went too far, I want to know. I realize I have no idea what the aftereffects might feel like for him.

“Yeah,” he’s quick to answer. “Yeah, everything’s…fine.” Wiping ourselves off in silence, he adds offhandedly, “Kind of glad I didn’t eat much.”

It’s a welcome bit of amusement and has me making a mental note for next time. “Well, don’t forget. We have cake.”

His eyes light up as they flick to the table. “That sounds really good, actually.”

“Not complaining about my snacking anymore, huh?” I tease, bumping his shoulder with mine.

I remember another surprise I have and reach for my phone, pulling up the tickets from Mason. When I explain the reason for the gift, he pinches his eyes shut and lets out a puff of breath.

“So, make sure you put me on your calendar for Wednesday,” I inform him casually.

“You…want to go with me?”

Why does he look surprised? Who in the heck else would he take to a monster truck rally?

“Are you planning on taking your other boyfriend?”

Smirking, he chuckles, but then his expression falls as he stares at the screen of my phone. “Ah, crap,” he whispers under his breath. “That’s the night of the bachelor party.”

Is he serious?

“You’re actually fucking going to that?”

Frowning, he looks away in thought. “Yeah. I want to be there for the guys.”

I know he means his new brothers-in-law to be, but has he forgotten that bachelor parties are for men? I know what other man in his life is going to be there—the dreaded ex-best friend who stole his girl. Again, he’s a better man than I if he wants to put up with that for a night.

Stowing my phone back on the nightstand, I console myself with the knowledge that I can easily find tickets to a different show to surprise him with some other time. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Look at me, wanting to book a night of monster trucks in my future.

Sighing, I relax and run my hand over a dry patch of soft hair on his stomach. “Well, if you come to your senses, you could take a wrong turn on your way there down Arlie Lane instead.”

He shoots me a questioning look. Is it because my hand is venturing into post-coital cuddling territory, or does he not know where I live? I guess I never realized the latter. “House three-oh-two,” I clarify, waggling my eyebrows. “I stay up late.”

He stares at me for a moment. A strange, sickening sensation builds in my chest. I’m about to pull my hand away, wondering if I’ve just been shot down, but he glances at his stomach and gingerly covers my hand with his.

It feels good and right, that simple touch, especially when his thumb brushes over my knuckle.

“What are we doing?”

I barely hear the question because it’s mumbled so softly.

His gaze is still fixed on our hands, but his thumb has stopped its stroking.

I nearly forgot about that nervous brain of his, how it mulls over details.

Is it years of looking out for two baby sisters that have him primed to prepare for disaster around every turn, or was it the war?

It’s so foreign to me. I wait for disasters to happen and then roll with them.

This…us, is not a disaster. It’s…just good, and I want to keep it that way.

“Getting along?” I throw out cheekily with a grin.

He seems to process that for a moment, gaze shifting to the ceiling, and he bites his lower lip.

“Um. I’ve got to pick up relatives from the airport the next day, but maybe we could get lunch or something on Friday before I have to go to the rehearsal dinner.

” Glancing at me, he elaborates, “Celebrate the closings?”

I kind of thought what we just did was our celebration, but I’ll take whatever excuse Lucas needs for us to get together again.

I suppose navigating our new normal back in North Carolina might seem a little uncertain.

Hell, this is new for me, too. I never even saw Veronica this frequently, and she’s the closest thing I came to having something like a relationship.

“The fifth?” I clarify, already excited about it.

“Yeah.”

The fifth… Why does that date stick out? Fuck.

Sighing, I scrub at my eyes. “Ah, I can’t. I’ve got a family luncheon thing. I’ve been threatened into not missing it. Plus,” I add, shooting him a smile, “I should probably thank Shaw and Terry for the lifeline in person.”

Okay, maybe it’s a little embarrassing to admit that I’ll be thinking about him when I’m not with him, but I’m trying to let him know I’m not blowing him off on purpose. He picks up on my insinuation, and his face goes an adorable shade of red.

Ha! Wait until he meets them in person. As I sit up and sling my legs over the side of the bed, I stare at my feet. Lucas meeting Shaw and Terry someday… I wait for the hypothetical to freak me out, but it doesn’t. He’d probably get along great with my cousin, to be honest.

Look at me, already acing this not-being-so-fake thing. Maybe dating wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.

“I can text you when I get home, though,” I reassure him, grabbing some boxers on my way to the table. “Unless you’re busy stuffing bags of rice or something.”

There was a time I was sick of hearing about his wedding worries, but now I can’t wait for the damn day to be over and done with.

Maybe he’ll be more relaxed when the babies get it done and are off to start their new lives with men of their own to take care of them instead of their big brother.

It’s infringing on my future Lucas time.

“Yeah.” I hear the sheets rustle when he gets out of bed. “Yeah, sure.”

I wonder what he looks like in a suit. Does one even wear a suit to a wedding that’s being held in a barn? Wait a minute…

“So…it’s a wedding,” I preface as he joins me at the table and we uncover the cake servings. “Do you have a plus one?”

Scoffing, he picks up his fork. “No. I have too much shit to do to have a plus one,” he grumps.

I try to ignore the sound he makes when he closes his mouth around a bite.

As a shudder sweeps through me, so does a sense of relief.

I shouldn’t be jealous if he did, in fact, have a plus one.

The event was planned back before our fake-boyfriend days.

He should have one if his ex is going to be there with his ex-best friend.

Dignity and all. Kudos to him for being a confident single-looking badass, though.

I mean, I’d go…if he asked. But he didn’t, so…whatever. I get it.

Maybe that would be weird. Him having to explain it to the babies and all on their big day. Would they be cool with him being with a guy? I want to ask, but don’t want to ruin the evening.

Holy shit, I think my brain is on a fast track to upgrading from the ‘getting-along’ zone to the dating zone.

Staring at my cake, I have the urge to laugh out loud.

I think I’m all right with that. In fact, I think I’m eager to storm that track with a damn monster truck as I glance at the sated-looking man with sex-tousled hair across from me.