“Yes, perfect,” I tell him confidently, pulling back to look in his eyes, a challenge in my own.
“I’m anything but perfect.”
I smirk at him, turning our bodies so his back is to the bed. “Now you know how it feels when you call me perfect.”
“When I say it, it’s true,” he says with a grin.
Giving him a slight push to his chest, he easily falls to his elbows on the bed while I come to stand between his legs. “Well I’m going to show you just how true I think it is when I say it. And you’re going to confirm or deny it.”
“Oh yeah? How?”
Biting on my lower lip, I reach for his belt buckle, giving it a firm tug. “If I make you come, you’ll be acknowledging that I’m right. If you don’t come, maybe I’ll believe you.”
The wind is knocked right out of him as he falls completely to the bed, his eyes closing as he groans. “You’re a fucking brat, and I’m going to make you pay for this.”
“I really hope so. I liked being a bad girl.”
He groans as I palm him through his jeans. “Good, ‘cause I want you both good and bad.”
That makes me smile. For him I’ll be anything he wants.
Until Sunday.
Chapter 13
Jordan
LiamacknowledgedIwasright. Twice. And in between his orgasms, he made me pay, torturing me by not touching me until I was ready to claw my eyes and pull my hair out. But I’ll admit, when he did finally touch me, it was worth the torture.
He’s wrapped around me now. One arm tucked under my head, the other around my waist where he’s drawing random little patterns across my belly. His finally soft cock is pressed intimately against my ass while his legs are entwined in mine. My body feels like mush, but I wouldn’t be surprised if tomorrow morning it hurts in the most delicious way.
This has got to be what cloud nine feels like.
We should both be sleeping by now because it’s late—or early, depending on how you look at it—but despite our silence, neither of us has fallen into it. I’m soaking it up. The time with him. The feeling of calm and comfort. Being with him is like the biggest, coziest, warmest blanket I’ve ever had.
The type of blanket that wraps around me during all the best and worst moments. The one that you wrap around yourself when you’re sitting in the backyard having a few drinks with friends, or the one you cuddle with when you’ve had the worst night at work and just want to cry until you fall asleep. It’s the blanket that knows all of your secrets but never judges you for any of them.
The one you never want to get rid of, let go of, or share.
“Are you usually a cuddler?” I ponder out loud, though my voice is quiet in the darkness of the room.
“Depends.” His answer comes so quickly you’d think he was reading my thoughts. “Was it good sex? Do I want another round? Does the girl feel like a clinger?”
His questions make me smile. That sounds like a Liam answer if I ever heard one.
“I like cuddling with you,” he adds, pressing a kiss to the spot just behind my ear. It doesn’t sound like a line, either. He sounds genuine.
“Me too.”
We fall back into comfortable silence. Two lovers who don’t feel the need to fill the emptiness with anything but the steady sounds of breathing. Content to just be in each other’s company.
I wonder if he’s thinking about the things I said to him earlier. Contemplating letting someone in. I hope he takes what I said to heart and thinks about it. There’s no part of me that can imagine not having anyone to share with. To bottle whatever it is that affects him so deep inside and never let it out.
“My mom.”
His words come out of nowhere, and they’re so out of place that my eyes open, and I blink into the dark. His mom? His mom what?
“Weird topic to bring up after sex, but okay,” I laugh softly, turning my head an inch to peer over my shoulder. Not that I can see him properly. “What about your mom?”
