He was made to love. Loudly and forever.
“I need to tell Marcus, because just this week, he called me an oblivious moron for not realizing I was into you long before now. Weeks ago. Shit, months ago.” When she gasped, her mouth gaping in apparent shock, he rolled his eyes, becausereally? She truly hadn’t realized? “And you’re wondering whether I somehow didn’t realize you were the woman in my bed, you were the woman grinding against my goddamn thigh—”
He shook his head, amused and frustrated and horny as hell. “I need to tell him you’re just as big an idiot as I am. Maybe bigger.”
Her words were so quiet, he could barely hear them over the ceaselessly chugging air conditioner. “You’re … into me? Are you … are you sure?”
The horror twisting her features had vanished, replaced by caution. Watchfulness, even as hope trembled at the corners of that tempting mouth.
Aggravation evident in every word, he laid out the evidence. “Lauren, I’ve kissed your forehead. I’ve kissed your cheek. I’ve hugged you for frankly absurd amounts of time. I’ve stroked your thigh. I begged you to go on a road trip with me and share my bed. I jerked off in the shower like ten minutes ago thinking of you on top of me, holding me down, and coming on my cock. And despite that, I accidentally stabbed your stomach with my stupid damn dick moments ago, after using your full legal name. How the fuck is my desire for you—specificallyyou—even in question?”
Her eyes were wide. Dazed. “I didn’t know you … did that … in the shower. I thought you’d slipped.”
“But you knew about the rest of it. Unless you’re having amnesia issues. Which, incidentally, is another of my favorite fic tropes, so if you’re an amnesiac or want to pretend to be one, let me know, and we can have some fun with that.”
Oh, the role-playing possibilities wereendless.
“I remember everything, but … I had no idea what it meant.” She was still blinking at him from across the bed. “None.”
Did she think he randomly stroked women’s thighs just for the fuck of it?
The more he considered what she’d said, the more upset he got. “No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between the two of us, sexually and romantically, I thought we were friends. Real friends. So how the fuck could you think I would use you as a generic body in my bed?”
Ithurt. That she thought so little of him was an arrow piercing his chest, ripping through muscle and bone, punching a hole in his heart.
It was too hot under the blankets now, and he flung them away and heaved himself out of bed to stand, vibrating with pain, on the freezing fucking floor.
“Alex …” she said, but he couldn’t look at her. “Alex, I’m—fuck.”
Then she was right there. Kneeling on the bed in front of him, reaching for him. Her small, strong hand clamped on his neck and yanked him toward her, and she kissed him. Hard.
Her mouth was hot on his, her lips demanding, and when he opened to her, her tongue swept inside his mouth without hesitation and claimed her territory. He sucked on that bold tongue, battled it, stroked it with his, and his stomach swooped in lust and joy.
Distantly, he felt a tug against his scalp. She’d speared her fingers through his shaggy mane, which he’d kept long just for her. Just for this. Just because he’d dreamed about her fist in his hair, directing his head where she wanted it to go.
Of course, he’d also dreamed about doing the same thing to her.
Her other hand was sliding under his tee, up his back, and he was palming her ass once more, plastering her against him until her softness yielded to the contours of his body, and no, he definitely couldn’t detect panties underneath those thin, thin leggings.
This was getting out of control quickly. Too quickly.
Before they went further, he had to know.
He ripped his mouth from hers, wild and panting and needy. “Does this mean you wantme? Not just someone to keep you warm?”
His voice was hoarse. Gravelly with desire and longing.
After sliding her hand out from under his tee, she cupped his face between her small palms tenderly. So tenderly he had to close his eyes against the ache in his chest.
“This means I’m sorry.” She kissed his eyelids, her lips warm and gentle. “This means my doubts had more to do with me than you, but they were still unfair to both of us.”
Her lips brushed his temples softly. So, so softly.
“This means I want you. Only you.” She took his bottom lip between her teeth and nipped, and he shook against her. “Andthismeans I’ve wanted you ever since you walked toward me in LAX looking like a freaking god. That damn Henley should beoutlawed.”
She licked his mouth open and conquered him anew, and he returned the favor. With one arm bracing her shoulders and neck, her skull cradled in his hand, he surged forward, pushing her flat on the bed and crawling over her.
On his hands and knees, her body caged within his, he was supplicant and conqueror both. He dragged his open mouth over her cheek, along her jaw, down her neck. “How far do you want to take this tonight, Wren?”
