Page 37 of The Substitute (New York Gods #4)

THIRTY-THREE

TOBI

Savage made me come three times before he made me sleep. It’s early now, and I feel better, more rational, but guilt has started to drag me down. I hate the way I acted last night. I hate that I’m pushing Ambrose away.

Savage groans, rolling over to collect me in his arms. “Your brain is very loud for so early in the morning.”

“Why can everyone hear my brain?!”

“It’s loud?” he says, clearly still half asleep.

I lean into him, trying not to disturb him.

“Thank you,” I whisper after awhile, not sure I want him to hear the words threatening to choke me.

“For what?”

That’s harder to explain. ‘Everything’ isn’t really an answer, but it’s true. I shrug, not knowing how to tell him that it means so much to me that he hasn’t gotten sick of me yet. That he’s not annoyed by my insecurities or anxieties or whatever.

“For—” I cut myself off and bury my face farther into his neck. “For not getting tired of me, I guess.”

“Why would I get tired of you?” There’s no judgement in his tone, just curiosity.

“I’m a lot, and I’m stubborn and difficult.”

“Are you?” Savage runs his fingers into my hair that desperately needs a cut, but I haven’t had the brain capacity for. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me. I know I am.” I mumble against his skin, wishing I could stop myself but it’s so hard.

“They’re wrong.” I feel the shoulder shrug more than see it. “And you’re wrong.” He wraps his hand around my throat, tilting my head up so he can kiss me.

“History has shown that I’m correct, and you are the outlier.”

“Maybe you were running the test on the wrong data set.” He makes me hard when he says smart things, but I don’t know what he’s talking about.

“The wrong data set?” I sit up, trying to work through it. “You mean, my family, my peers, the general population that I’ve had regular interactions with my entire life? What other data set should I be running tests on?”

“Okay, fair, maybe your parameters need some fine tuning.” He sits up and pulls me into his lap.

“Which parameters would those be?” I can feel myself getting defensive.

He shrugs again, but it’s clear he’s thinking about the answer, which I appreciate.

I’m so tired of being told it’s in my head, not a big deal, get over it.

Not being brushed off is kind of cool. “If your hypothesis is that you’re a lot or too much, what are you using to define what a lot or too much is, and what are you using to decide a positive or negative response to it? ”

I lift an eyebrow at him and blink. Does he really want me to dissect my insecurities like this?

“Well?” he asks when I don’t respond.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever picked it apart like a social experiment before—give me a second.”

He nods and waits like he has all the time in the world. He’s not rushing out of here, not hurrying me along so he can get to the next thing or telling me I’m being dramatic. It’s weird.

“Well, my parents prefer my brother to me—”

“What is your evidence to support that fact?”

Maybe I don’t like having a guy who can use science against me. Is this how Teddy feels? I shudder because I do not want to empathize with Teddy.

“Uh, not in so many words, but it’s obvious.” My back tightens as I prepare for the battle I’m about to fight.

“How are you defining obvious?” Again, there’s no judgment, just curiosity. “Is this something you would use to back up your argument in a paper?”

I scoff, narrowing my eyes. “Because any time he walks into the room, they immediately turn toward him like he’s the damn sun and they’re sunflowers? They will stop mid-sentence or cut me off to talk to him, and they have my entire life. But they never do that to him.”

“Have you asked him? Maybe they do, and you don’t see it because you aren’t in the conversation.”

“I doubt he would even notice.”

“So if I’m understanding this correctly, you have no unbiased evidence to back this up?”

“How the hell would I have unbiased evidence of my own experience?” I demand, annoyed he’s making good points.

“By asking others around you?” he says, making me feel a little like an idiot even if he’s not trying to. “What about Rhys? He’s been your best friend forever, right?”

“He’s definitely not unbiased. His entire world is hockey and my brother. He fucking lights up when my brother enters the room.”

“But that’s a recent change. You never asked him about it before that?”

“No. The last thing I wanted to talk about was my brother.”

He sighs. “Okay, next parameter?”

I blink at him. “My complete lack of friends?”

“You have—had—a best friend.”

“He started fucking my brother behind my back. I think that supports my argument.”

“You can’t help who your heart wants.”

“It was not the heart that got them started.”

A smile tugs on Savage’s mouth. “The dick wants what the dick wants, and if both parties are consenting…”

“Could you be any more ridiculous?”

He shrugs. “I really could. Would you like me to try?”

“No!”

“I still don’t think that can be taken into consideration. I’m not attracted to your brother.”

“How do you even know what he looks like?”

“My step-brother is on his team. I pulled their photo.”

“You’re hardly a good source since you’re already biased.”

“So all your sources are biased. So back to your one-hundred-percent biased case study, you’ve determined that you are, in fact, ‘a lot’ with biased data? Is that correct?”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

“No, I’m using facts, and you don’t like that I’m right.” He does some magic ninja shit and pins me on my back to loom over me. “But do you notice the cute little redhead in chem that flutters her eyelashes at you? Or the relieved look on the chem lab assistant’s face when you walk in?”

Now I’m confused. What the hell is he talking about?

“Cute redhead? What?”

He cocks his head and smirks like he’s the cat that caught the canary. “You really don’t notice her? Short little thing, sexy in a cute, innocent way that makes you want to dirty her up, typically has her tits on you?”

I blink up at him. “Do you mean Angie? With the purple cat-ear hoodie? How do you even know about her?”

“Yes, her. She sits next to you every day, leans into you, and basically has hearts shooting from her eyes.”

“She does not! She’s dyslexic and struggles to take notes, so she copies mine!”

“And her tits need to be on your arm for that?” He’s smiling, and it’s annoying.

“Now who’s running with a biased data set?” I cross my arms. “Seriously, how do you know that?”

“Still you. And I have eyes and ears everywhere, baby girl.” He kisses me.

“So Ambrose then,” I deadpan.

“I’m not giving away my secrets.”

“That’s a yes.” I glare but kiss him back. “I thought you were possessive.”

“I am. But she’s harmless, and I know you’re not into her, so I won’t scare her. You having friends is good, but if she ever does try anything…” His words warm me from the inside out.

I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Pointing out all my flaws in the daylight just makes them more real. I gaze down his body, still hovering over me, and drag my teeth over my bottom lip. “Well, I would like to run an experiment with your cock. For science.”

“Hmmm. What kind of experiment?” He lowers himself between my legs, rocking his hips against mine.

“Let’s see if it’s still a good distraction.”

“A distraction from what?” he asks as he grinds against me. “You have nothing to compare your results to.”

“Myself, and it worked last night, but we have to run the test again to verify the results.”

“Were you a good boy? Have you earned it?” Savage nuzzles under my jaw and behind my ear, dragging his five o’clock shadow against my skin.

I suck in a shuddery gasp as goosebumps break out across my skin. “I picked apart my trauma for you. I think you owe me.”

“Oh, I owe you, do I?” He bites at my collar bone.

“It was a very painful subject!” I whine, wrapping my legs around his hips to grind my aching dick against him. “I’ll tell you more after, I promise.”

He chuckles, and it’s a dark sound. “Liar. You’re going to pass out again.”

“When I wake up then—that’s still after.” I’m pouting, and I don’t care. I’m emotionally raw and need something to soothe the ache again. “Please,” I beg.

His groan radiates through my body with his mouth suctioned to my skin. Savage cups me over my sweats and presses the heal of his palm against me.

“Fuck!” It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge, but I don’t want this to end so quickly. “Please, I need you.”

His mouth clamps over my pulse on my neck, and he sucks hard. I arch up into him, needing friction and wanting to drive him to the brink. He needs to be as frantic as I am.

Savage shoves at my pants, finally letting my hands go so I can pull at his clothes, but he’s still got my skin in his mouth. The hickey that’s left is going to be brutal. The thought makes me giddy. I want it. I’ve never had one before, but I’ve always secretly wanted one.

Riding on hope and bravery, I reach for his pants tug at the tie, but my nerve fizzles out when it comes time to make the next move.

“Can I?” My words are quiet, hesitant, but he lifts his head and drops his forehead to mine when he says yes.

He groans against my mouth when I slide my hand inside and wrap my fingers around his cock. Fuck, he’s hard and hot against my palm. The barbels of his Jacob’s Ladder are warm as they press into my hand.

Savage rocks his hips, thrusting into my grip and taking my mouth in a deep kiss. I love the way he surrounds me. Everything about him is a fucking magnet, and I can’t fight the pull. I don’t want to.

He sits up, and I release him, but he grabs my arm, halting it. “I didn’t say to stop.”

“You’re pulling away.”

He smirks and shoves my hand back down to his cock. “I’m just getting comfortable.”

What the hell does that mean?

Savage pulls his shirt off over his head. Good God, he’s nice to look at. Muscle and tattoos and confidence. He knows how good he looks, too.

I stroke him, loving the feral glint in his eye when I do.