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CHAPTER 29

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

WILDER

I am the world’s biggest asshole.

She redirects the conversation with such grace, you’d never know I just pushed her so hard, she slapped me with the gauntlet and spiked it when she was through.

How I keep forgetting she’s recently been through some shit is beyond me. Our circumstance keeps wiping my memory. Cohabitating with her comes too easy. For example, after dinner we move about the kitchen cleaning up, and it’s so natural. Like we’ve been doing it our whole lives.

But no, the truth is, I’m a dick who told her I wanted what she wanted and pushed for what I wanted instead. I’m the actual fucking worst, and I spend the rest of the night beating myself up.

She changes clothes and comes out of my bedroom in a pair of baggy sweats, a huge tee, and her hair piled in a nest on top of her head. And then she plops down on the couch next to me with a furry blanket that has to weigh twenty pounds. There’s barely room on the couch for me with the addition of that thing, but I have to admit, she’s cute as fuck all wrapped up in it. We watch TV like that all night. A couple hours in, she stretches out, shoving a throw pillow between us so her feet won’t touch me.

Because I’m a dickhead who makes assumptions. Because I’m the shitass who pressures her because I think I know better than she does. I’ve gotta wait. Give her space. For real this time.

She’ll come to me. I have faith.

A medical drama is playing out on screen, something she was watching before all this. I have no idea what’s really going on aside from it being clear all the doctors are either currently banging or have already banged all the other doctors. I forgot it was on streaming and not network until one of the couples gets into a fight and starts making out. Which gets very naked, very fast. A resident surgeon is sitting on a gurney panting, back arched and nipples pointed at the ceiling, his face between her thighs reverent and determined. My pulse ticks up, my cock responding while my imagination spins, until it’s me nestled between Cass’s thighs. Her fingers twisting in my hair while I fuck her with my mouth?—

I reach for the remote and turn the TV off. “Okay, that’s enough of that. Time for bed.”

She shoots up on one elbow, her mouth gaping in offense. “What the hell? It was just getting to the good part!”

“Cassidy, I will be good. I will cool it like you asked. But I draw the line at watching soft-core porn with you this close to me.”

She huffs, but sits up. “Oh, come on. I look like a troll. Zero percent fuckable.”

Now I’m mad, my brow furrowing. But I can see on her face she really doesn’t understand what she does to me. “I thought we established I’d fuck you with a mouth guard in and rollers in your hair. Quit brushing your teeth and roll around in dirt. Three days without a shower. Doesn’t matter. You think I don’t know the shape of your body because your clothes are baggy? I’d know every curve in the pitch fucking dark.”

She’s looking at me with wide eyes and parted lips.

I groan and stand up, adjusting my cock, which is caught awkwardly in my waistband thanks to the boner I’ve popped. “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs, but I’m headed to our room.

“Don’t ever apologize to me for that, just cut it out,” I throw over my shoulder, pleased when she chuckles.

Once in the room, I pull off my shirt and toss it on the chair on my way to the bathroom. Brush my teeth listening to Cass move around behind me. I catch a glimpse of her in the mirror as she bends over to reach for her phone cord. Backlit by the lamp, the blurry shadow of her breasts is obvious enough that my hard cock twitches. I close my eyes and curse the day I thought this was a good idea.

When I’m finished, we trade places, but I don’t get in bed. Instead, I grab my pillow and phone charger and walk toward the door.

She whips around, toothbrush in her mouth. Creamy white toothpaste is frothed on her lips, and this time, my cock throbs. I keep walking.

“Whu you goeen?” she asks with her mouth full and brows pinched together.

“Sleeping on the couch.”

Her frown is magnificent. I’d laugh if I didn’t need to get the fuck away from her.

“You cun shee on duh coush.”

“I can’t sleep in there with you either.”

“Buh you nee tew—han on.” She disappears back to the bathroom.

I throw my pillow heavily onto the couch and stare at it for a second. At least out here, I can jerk off. And I desperately need to jerk off. I sigh.

I’m still staring at it when she walks back in. “We’ve been sleeping together all week,” she notes.

“Yeah, but now we’re alone.”

“Well, sure, but?—”

“But nothing.” I plug in my charger and flop down on the couch, tucking a hand behind my head, opening my phone so I have something to do with my eyes that doesn’t involve her. “I’m not sleeping in there with you.”

Her face bends into a frown. A sad frown. “Are you mad at me?”

I scrub my hand over my face. “Not even a little. You’re right about everything, Cass, and I’m sorry. I forgot you’re not ready for me. But I’m ready for you. And if I have to lay in there next to you all night I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

I’m still pretending to look at my phone while she stares down at me, chewing her lip, her arms folded. “I hate it too. I’ve been losing my mind too—if it made sense to give in, I would. I want to, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It definitely does-fucking-not. Now go to bed so I can jerk off.”

Her cheeks go so red, they’re splotchy as she sputters. “You…but…I…that…” She blinks down at my cock, the shape of it painfully clear beneath my basketball shorts. Her eyes widen.

This makes things substantially worse.

“I mean it, Cass,” I say roughly. “Go.”

She lifts her pert little nose. “Fine. Goodnight.”

“Night,” I echo as she turns on her heel and marches off. Relief washes over me at her absence.

And with no time to waste, I click off the lamp and slide my hands into my waistband in search of my aching dick, hoping to God I can satisfy the need for her. But I know better with every stroke.

Cass

He’s not actually going to masturbate , I think as I hurry to our room, the living room going dark behind me as I reach the door.

I slip in, close it with a snick loud enough for him to hear. Frustration has me warm all over. Annoyance at the circumstance, the moment, the knowledge that he can’t even stand to be in the same room with me. Worse than that—he told me he’s going to jerk off.

That heat is unbearable, wet and warm between my thighs as I slam pillows around and click off the light. I have no idea why I’m so mad, but I am, like a sputtering tea kettle. My chest heaves, my tight nipples brushing against my baggy tee with every breath. The thought of him out there with his cock in his hand sends a fluttering pulse through my pussy. I press a hand to my breast and squeeze, pinching my nipple painfully, a punishment for wanting him. My free hand cups my sex through my sweatpants, but it’s not enough—I nearly growl when I shove my hand down the front of my pants so I can feel the slick heat of my flesh, swollen and needful.

He’s right there on the other side of the door.

I twist my nipple hard enough that it stings, biting my lip to keep myself quiet.

I could see him—all I’d have to do is crack the door.

The temptation is too much to deny. My heart hammers as I tiptoe to the door, opening it silently, swallowing hard at the sight of him stretched out in the moonlight. His hand is still tucked behind his head, stretching the planes of his chest in a beautiful sweep of muscle, kissed by shadows. His shorts are gone, a dark pile at his outside foot, which is planted firmly on the ground. I follow the line of his calf, his massive thigh, the unreal profile of his ass cheek as it flexes to thrust his cock into his hand.

I can’t breathe. His big hand fists his shaft, the silken head appearing and disappearing with the gentle twist of his wrist. My own hand is pressed to my cunt, my clit against the heel, squeezing to the rhythm of his pumping hips and hand. Orgasm speeds toward me, tingling and hot and desperate.

And then he lets himself go, leans over, spits heavily into his hand, and grips his cock again.

I choke back a gasp, pressing my forearm to the doorframe, watching him through the crack, cock shining and slick as he hisses, face tight. His eyes close as he dips his head back, the knot of his Adam’s apple exposed. Eyes open, narrow as he watches his pleasure, chest rising and falling faster, his hand pumping. Mine matches pace, my throat tight, the pressure rising. His lips are pursed, breath sharp through his nose, jaw clenched, eyes on his cock until they roll. And with an animal grunt in the back of this throat, he comes all over himself. Ribbons of milky seed shoot from his pulsing cock, and I come all over myself too, biting my forearm so I’ll be quiet. So he won’t know just how much I want him.

He’s still stroking the root of his cock slowly, the tip still weeping, his arm slung over his face as he pants, and I’m rubbing my clit relentlessly, coming again. But one of my moans escapes, so small, so tiny, he can’t have heard. I roll away from the door along the wall to hide just in case, resting my head, the last of my desire rocking through me. My pussy still pulses as I wobble to bed and climb in. In a little bit, I’ll get up and pee and wash my hands—if I do it now, he’ll know. In the meantime, I lay there in the dark and think about him, wishing I didn’t want him so bad.