Fuck me. It took every ounce of self-control to keep my hands to myself. She was clearly wasted. I pulled my sweater off, depositing it over her head. She squeaked in surprise before whirling around to face me. Her gaze scanned hungrily over my bare chest as her palms glued to my skin.
I needed a cold shower. STAT.
“We can’t do this now, Angel,” I murmured, peeling her hands from me.
She pouted. “I thought you wanted me.”
If there was a God, he was testing me hardcore. I cupped her cheek, “I do want you, but I want you to give me that part of you when you're sober.”
She wet her lips. “Ok.”
I kissed her forehead. With a sleepy smile, she crawled into bed, settling down into the pillow like a kitten. I turned to go.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Her voice was a needle and thread stitching through my tattered soul, weaving into the fabric of my being. I didn’t question it; I heeled out of my boots, climbing in with her. She snuggled deeper with a contented hum, lacing our fingers and passing out in seconds.
I laid awake with the delicious smell of her hair, the soft sound of her breath and her ass pressed to my crotch. But I didn’t move. I let myself drown in the comfort of her, not willing to break for air.
15
Courtney
Warm,soperfectlywarmand in the most blissful dream. I wanted to linger a little longer in this cozy haven with his strong arm draped over my waist. It was so real I could feel each of his deep, slow breaths. So real, I could feel his fingers laced with mine. So real, I could feel his hard-
Morning light streaked through the window; I winced at the assault, my brain sluggish and throbbing. Looking down, a tattooed arm was, in fact, resting in the crook of my waist, fingers loosely tangled with mine. I held my breath, admiring the contrast of his golden skin against my pale forearm left exposed by the bunched sleeve of my gray sweater.
I didn’t own a gray sweater.
I shot up.
A muffled grumble from behind me confirmed it.
Ollie was still here.
Bits and pieces of the night before trickled in, picking up speed with every second I spent awake: Merit Institute, telling him about mom, listening to his voice like a favorite song, taking off my clothes-
“OhGod.”
A sleepy laugh floated from behind me. I twisted from my perch at the end of the bed, realizing my bare ass was on the sheets.
No. Fucking. Underwear.
“Did we?” I gasped.
“Spoon all night?” He grinned lazily. “Yes.”
In my panic, I almost missed the absolute perfection on display. Dirty blond hair stuck up at odd angles and ice blue eyes squinted against the light. He was beautifully shirtless, exposing intricate ink that flowed over his shoulder down his pec and curled around his ribs; purposely unfinished sketches undulated like smoke with every breath. My unabashed admiration didn’t go unnoticed, especially when my eyes snagged on the obvious bulge in his jeans. He smirked.
I lurched up, crossing my arms over my chest. At least the sweater covered enough.
“You were drunk too. Are you sure we didn’t?”
He stretched like a cat; my eyes gobbled up the rippling muscles of his chest, abs and that tempting V into his jeans.
“No, Angel, to your displeasure I turned you down, because believe it or not, I have a sliver of decency and prefer for you to consent to sex sober.”
I covered my burning face. “Oh. My.God.”
