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I seriously need to jump in the shower, but the devilish look she keeps giving me makes it clear that I wouldn’t be able to do that with any level of success while she’s in the same room. I plant a chaste kiss to her lips, ignore the way she reaches for me, and make a hasty exit.
A pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt is all I put on before heading into the kitchen.
I try to fill my wandering thoughts with anything but Whitney Nelson. I want her like desert plants want water, but pain isn’t her kink. No matter what she thinks her body is telling her, she wouldn’t enjoy another round with me right now, and I have to respect that.
I blame her arms around me for getting aroused when she joins me in the kitchen because getting turned on by the scent of the bubble bath would just make me a creep.
“I hope you like yogurt and fruit,” I tell her as I grab her arms and pull her around.
She’s wearing yet another tiny tank top and little shorts.
“What the hell did Ignacio pack for you?”
Her cheeks pink, and it makes me want to go to the guest bedroom and rifle through her things. But I’m afraid doing so would make me want to murder my friend.
“Only comfortable things.” Her eyes dart away.
“Really?”
“And lingerie.” Her perfect teeth dig into her bottom lip, and my blood can’t decide if it wants to heat in anger for my friend’s invasion or if it’s arousal kicking up my temperature.
“Is that so?” I hold her tighter even though there’s no viable threat in my apartment right now.
She buries her head in my chest. “I’m joking.”
“That’s disappointing. I was going to have you model it for me after breakfast.”
Her laughter is better than angels singing.
The day takes on a lazy tone, but the sexual tension never quite leaves us. We don’t have sex, but the promise of the possibility keeps us both on edge. The looks, the gentle brushes of our hands, and the way our eyes follow each other makes for a very interesting day.
Mid-afternoon, we both finally cave. I’m adamant about not fucking her, but she seems fine to strip both of us naked and get off by swiping her slick cunt up and down my length, teasing her clit until she falls apart. After she finds her release, she puts me out of my misery by climbing off my lap and licking me clean before sucking me deep. I lasted longer than I did while eating her out last night, but not by much.
I’m half asleep on the couch, her back to my front as we watch some documentary for shark week when my phone rings. I’d let it go to voicemail, but there are too many things going on right now to just forget that the entire world is still spinning while we’re here in the cocoon of my apartment.
Whitney grumbles her displeasure when I shift and climb out from behind her. She was asleep and doesn’t even bother opening her eyes. I can’t decide if I’m going to tease her about the drips of slobber on my couch cushion later, but I’m smiling when I answer Flynn’s call.
“Yeah, man.”
“We’re all set up for tonight.”
“Same hotel?” I ask, referring back to the plan we all made yesterday.
I leave the room because I don’t want to disturb her, but also because I want to put my foot down about being there. It’s going to sound more like begging considering who is on the other end of the line.
“I want to be there.”
Silence fills the line between us.
“Flynn?”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“We’ll have to put precautions in place, but yeah. This is your girl, and I know I’d be acting the same way.”
My girl. Fuck, if that doesn’t sound perfect.
“Thanks, man.”
“Meet at the office at eight.”
“See you then.”
Her reason for being here ends in less than a handful of hours, so I do the only thing I can think of. I climb back on the couch and wrap my arms back around her. After tonight is over, she’s going to have to decide if staying here is what she wants.
God, I hope everything works out.Chapter 30Whitney
My eyes follow the retreating form of Wren’s back through the peephole. The guard that was there the other day when we came up here is standing near the elevator, but even his presence doesn’t keep the chill from climbing up my spine.
I’m alone in Wren’s apartment for the first time, and no level of begging changed his mind about staying.
“Everything will be over after tonight,” he’d said before leaning down and kissing me like I was the only woman his lips have ever touched. “Then you can go home if you want.”
If you want.
His tone suggested he didn’t want me to leave, and I’ve sat on his couch trying to figure out a way to tell him that even though my home is three floors down, I can’t imagine going back there alone.
