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“Funny, Becks.” I sat up in bed and fumbled on the nightstand for my phone, nearly upending the cup of water containing my beloved violet. Crap. “What time is it?”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m not whispering.” I so was.
When he didn’t answer, I shoved my hair back from my face and glanced over my shoulder at him. He was sprawled on the pillows with his arms
crossed beneath his head as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His muscled chest with just the right amount of dark hair was on full display, along with that interesting arrow tattoo right near his left nipple. Not to mention the winding sleeve of black and gradients of gray ink that swirled around to make his muscles seem even more dense and appealing.
“See something you like?”
I flushed. There was no denying it. With my coloring, anything I felt translated right to my skin. The guy was hot, and it was rather infuriating he knew it. Not even in an egotistical way. He just had a quiet confidence I couldn’t even hate him for. It was one more positive quality in an ever growing, ever irritating list.
“Your sister might’ve heard us, you know.”
“Us? You were the one begging me to make you co—”
I slapped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it.” He lifted a brow and waited for me to remove my hand. “Did we have sex?” I demanded.
“On top of you passing out the second after you came, you also don’t remember?”
I tugged my nightshirt into place, hoping to embarrass him into not checking out my breasts. I was not successful. He gazed at them unrepentantly, and they did me the dishonor of not only not minding but swelling even more against the material.
From how slowly he licked his lips, he noticed that too.
“Of course I remember.” My slightly frosty tone was my last defense against not climbing on top of him and riding for glory. I didn’t even have panties on, for goodness sake. “It’s just hazy.”
Hazy was a good word.
“Hmm.” He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand. With his other one, he drew circles on my bare thigh. “I’ll give you some flash cards then. You texted me with a question about my rashy eggplant. Then you came home with my sister and followed that up with a text about us making a baby.” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “So I did what any rational, red-blooded male would do when confronted with such a question.”
“Which was?” I shouldn’t be asking as if this was story time, but I couldn’t deny wanting more insight into his thought process.
At least he’d had one last night. Obviously, unlike me.
“I yanked a violet out of the pot where I’d been trying to keep it and its friend alive and came over here to do my duty.”
“Aww, you ripped it away from its friend?”
“That’s the part you land on?” He touched my chest right above my heart. “Soft. I never guessed.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, August Beck.”
“I know. I want to learn every last thing.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “Your hair smells like strawberries and cream. So fucking delicious.”
“Ivy’s shampoo,” I said shakily.
He fingered one of my ringlets, hanging so close to my breast. “I was going to be a gentleman and leave. Until you asked me to stay. You told me how wet you were for me. How much you wanted me inside you with no condom.”
I closed my eyes, because his soft undertone was going to kill me. Every bit of it was coming back to me now. He’d stayed so stoic and hadn’t let my pleas sway him. He’d done the thinking for both of us.
Protecting me even as I begged him to rip all the shields away.
“I remember.”
He tipped up my chin with his fingertip, giving me no choice but to meet his gaze. “Then what happened?”
“Then you got down on your knees and made me come.”
