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I had been focusing on my sex drive and nothing else. And, well, there was nothing wrong with that. Every red-blooded adult needed to get laid occasionally, even if that turned out to be all it was- sex. It wasn't something I did often, but once in a while, I had affairs. Was that what I was doing with Paine? If that was the case, why did I involve him on the situation with my sister? Guys who were nothing more than sex to me before didn't even know I had a sister. Granted, the situation was weird. And Paine had kind of forced his way into my life, throwing it even further off its axis.
Was I just some notch to him? Bag the rich bitch and brag about it to your buddies? If so, was I offended by that or okay with it?
"You're thinking too much," Paine interrupted my train of thought.
"What?" I said, shaking my head and looking for him because he wasn't beside me anymore. Somehow without my noticing, he had moved away toward the coffee pot and made us each a cup. He was walking back then, handing me the mug.
"Sawyer is a dick and he likes pushing buttons. That's what he does. You start thinking about the shit he says, you'll drive yourself crazy."
"Right," I agreed, sipping my coffee and silently telling myself that the only reason he could push a button was because it existed in the first place.
"You're tired. I'm beat. We've had a weird fucking night. Let's just call it a wash, yeah?"
"A wash?"
"We ain't fucking after that," he said with a smile, waving a hand out.
"Oh, okay." Yeah, that was kind of the last thing on my mind anyway.
"So let's sleep."
"Let's?" I questioned.
"Your bed is comfortable as fuck and I don't feel like driving home this late. You can try to relegate me to the guest room you stick poor Roman in, but I'll end up beside you regardless," he said, putting down his coffee mug and moving out toward the dining room.
I took a long sip of my coffee before putting it on the counter, hopping down, and following him upstairs.
I was going to sleep with Paine.
In the most literal way.
Somehow, that felt almost more intimate than sleeping with him in the figurative way.
When I got into my room, he had already kicked out of his shoes, his pants were gone, and so was his shirt. I felt my feet falter as I stepped into the doorway, taking in his broad back covered in dark tattoos. And while they were fascinating, the muscles were even more so. From the width of his shoulders, the strong plane of his back, to the muscular ass that filled out his dark boxer briefs way too well, he was a specimen of male perfection.
He turned slowly, as if sensing me looking at him, ducked his head to the side, and gave me a small smile. "Figured I'd leave the boxers on just this once."
I swallowed hard. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever is comfortable."
"Comfortable would be skin on skin with you, cock buried in that tight, wet pussy while you moan into my ear. But I'll settle for this."
So that whole... sex being the last thing on my mind thing? Yeah, that wasn't true anymore. My sex clenched hard and it was an effort to force myself to move forward toward my dresser, snagging whatever my hands reached for first and throwing myself into the bathroom. I stripped out of my clothes, washed my face, brushed my teeth, took out my contacts, and reached for my pajamas. It was right then that I realized I hadn't grabbed one of the chaste silky Victoria's Secret sleep shirts I thought I had, but a God damn white and pink nightie.
Great. That was just great.
I sighed at my blurry reflection and rolled up the nightie, slipping it over my head. It slithered over my sensitive skin in a far too erotic way and I knew that anytime I shifted in that bed, I was going to be washed over with that sensation again. Plus, the whole... Paine was going to see me in something overtly sexual while he was mostly naked thing. I said a silent 'thank you' to the universe that I had picked one that was solid silk and not one of the see-through lace ones.
On a shrug, I walked out of the bathroom, turning off the light and drawing Paine's attention from where he was sitting off the side of the bed.
"Fuck babygirl," he groaned, running a hand over his cheek. "You own stock in a lingerie company?" he teased, crooking a finger at me. And, well, when a man as sexy and mostly naked as Paine crooked a finger at you, you went to him. His hands moved up the sides of my thighs, whispering up my skin until they came in contact with the nightie then settled at my hips. "Alright," he said after a long minute, "climb in."
