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My fucking toes can barely hold me upright. I have to drop to my knees, next to Lacey.
She crawls into my lap and rests her head against my chest.
She leans into my touch as I run my fingers through her hair.
Slowly, her breath steadies. She looks up at me, those big, brown eyes once again full of satisfaction. "That was… that was amazing."
I nod. It's the only thing I can do. I'm fucking incoherent.
"You're really sexy in control." She presses her palm against my stomach. "But I'm sure you already know that."
This time, I manage to murmur a yes.
"And you were so… I never thought I'd, that anyone would…" She draws circles over my stomach with her forefinger. "Just… Just thanks, Mal."
"Any fucking time."
She sighs as she nestles into my lap.
19
Lacey
We take a long, slow shower together. Being in that tiny space with Mal, with his body against mine, his lips on my lips, that warm water running over both of us—
It's as intimate as anything I've ever felt.
He washes and conditions my hair and soaps me all over. I do the same to him, taking my dear time exploring every inch of his skin. If he wasn't a musician, he'd probably be a football player. He's that tall and broad and muscular.
But the dark tattoos and the messy hair hanging in front of his deep blue eyes—that's pure rock star.
Only, I don't think of Mal as a rock star anymore. Not exactly. The video director part of my brain still sees Mal as an actor playing a role. She's still working out what she wants to do with him.
But the fangirl part of my brain is fading away. She can't quite connect the Mal she fell for with the Mal in front of her. In front of me.
He's similar to his persona. He's bottled up. Shouldering the weight of the world all by himself.
I want to help him carry it, but I'm not going to get ahead of myself here. We're friends with benefits. We're having fun.
That's all.
And this—pressing my palm against his hard chest as he drags his soft lips over my neck—this is really fucking fun.
My panties are MIA.
My dress is two days old.
I might be overstaying my welcome here, but I'm floating too high to care. My body is running off the thrill of Mal's body. The rest of me—it's still overwhelmed by all the desire in his eyes, the shudder in his chest, the commanding words that fall off his lips.
Right now, I really believe I'm desirable.
I pull on one of Mal's t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. His clothes are too big, but they make for perfect pajamas.
He dresses in a t-shirt and boxers. No jeans, no pants, no shorts. Nothing but that thin layer of cotton.
"You hungry?" he asks.
Judging by the bright light flowing through the windows, we must be into afternoon. Which means it's normal that I'm starving. I nod.
