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Pulse drumming, I look at her. “If you’re implying that’s why I am the way I am at work . . . you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she replies with an easy smile. “Except I was wrong about you. I thought you were being a dick just to be a dick because you were miserable and you wanted to make everyone else around you miserable too.”
“That’s the rest of the finance world. Not me.”
She pats my arm. “Glad we cleared that up.”
“I’m sorry I treated you the way I did. Telling you why I was a jackass doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I regret it. I’ll do better.”
We’re doing that thing again where our eyes meet, and hers are filled with the same want that thrums through my veins.
I gently put my hand on top of hers. I’ve never told anyone this.
I know, she says by giving my forearm a quick, firm squeeze.
I’m not alone anymore with this secret. It’s terrifying.
It’s the biggest fucking turn-on ever. Maybe Nora and I were each lonely in our own ways. But in that loneliness, we’ve found so much in common.
We found each other.
I have never wanted someone more. If only I could have her.
If only I could make her mine, because I’d work my ass off to make sure she has the best of everything too. It’s what I do.
It’s who I am. And Nora’s showing me that’s nothing to be ashamed of.
I wake wrapped up in her.
Literally. I’m the big spoon to Nora’s little spoon, the curve of her ass curled neatly into the cradle of my pelvis like it belongs there. I’ve somehow gotten underneath the covers, and our feet are tangled together. Her head rests on my bicep, her shoulder rising and falling in rhythmic breaths.
She’s asleep.
So is my arm. My dick, however, is wide awake and rock hard. It’s nestled in the crease between her ass cheeks, the head pressed against the little indent where they meet.
I can feel myself leaking droplets of pre-cum. I jerk my hips back and bite my lip to keep from crying out at loss of contact, the loss of warmth.
Glancing at the clock beside the bed, I see that it’s two a.m. How the hell did I end up here? Last thing I remember is nodding off just as Cynthia Nixon’s dog went missing on The Gilded Age, Nora’s hand still on my arm. She was nodding off too, her head lolling on my shoulder. I remember thinking I needed to get up and go back to the pullout, but I didn’t want to wake her.
I’m definitely going to wake her with this obscene erection if I don’t do something about it, stat. Do I quietly tug one out in the bathroom? Take a cold shower? Hurl myself through the nearest window and hope I land on my dick?
All my options suck. Especially compared to the one that takes hold in my head. I imagine whispering in Nora’s ear, asking her permission. She breathes yes. I kiss her neck. Her body melts against mine, and she reaches back to run a hand through my hair as I slip a hand inside her shirt and cup her breast. Thumb her nipple. Her skin is soft. Pussy is softer as I reach between her legs and find her wet and swollen. For me.
Just as I am. She knows things about me no one else does, and still she wants me. Badly, if the way her hips roll against my fingers is any indication.
My dick aches, plunging me back into the excruciating present.
I have to get out of here. But first, I have to figure out how to move my arm without waking Nora. If she discovers me in bed with her, hard as a rock, I’ll never forgive myself.
Slowly—very, very slowly—I begin to pull my arm back and up. My shoulder screams bloody murder but I don’t care. Her hair is soft, silky as it glides against my skin.
Because I’m not turned on enough.
I’m two seconds from freedom when she stirs. My stomach drops. I go still and hold my breath, willing her to be asleep.
“Theo?” she says, voice thick with sleep. “That you?”
“No,” I say, because my mind’s gone blank and I have no clue what to say or do.
Go. I have to go. I pull my arm away and am about to roll off the bed when a hand on my thigh stills me.
It’s Nora. She’s reaching for me underneath the covers. She’s also looking at me now over her shoulder, her eyes glistening pools in the darkness.
“You okay?” she asks. One inch to the right, and her hand is going to find my dick. My very hard, leaky dick.
So I do what anyone in possession of said dick would do. I rip off the covers and hop out of bed. “Yeah. Sorry. I must have fallen asleep—”
