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Chapter Twenty:
Nice Nipples
Zeppelin
It had been days sinceour living room dance and I could still feel his touch. It lingered on my skin like a brand, a brand that caused pure pleasure on the outside and agony on the inside. Agony for a man so close yet so far away we may as well be in different states. I could smell him, but I couldn’t kiss him. I could hear him, but I couldn’t touch him. It was fucking torture.
And I was done playing nice.
“Yes, Charlie Bishop,” I repeated to the receptionist, trying not to be frustrated at how long this appointment was taking to happen. We’d been in the lobby for over thirty minutes, and based on the reviews this place had, this was highly unusual.
“Okay, he’ll see him now.”
Finally. I stood and helped Charlie walk to her, passing him over with a forced smile. “And when should I be back?”
“‘Bout an hour and a half?”
Perfect. Sterling is at home today and I need to talk to that fucker.“Thank you. I’ll see you later, Charlie. Have fun.”
I chuckled at his “not likely” comment and went on my way.
The drive home seemed to go slower than the drive there, so by the time I was walking in I was just as tense as I was in that waiting room, and seeing Sterling shirtless once again didn’t help in the slightest. It had been so many days since I touched myself I wanted to shove him down and ride his cock without saying a word, but I knew that couldn’t happen. I had to say something. We had to say something. Yet when I opened my mouth to talk to him, all that came out was, “Nice nipples.”
He frowned down at his bare chest. “What?”
“Nothing.” I moved to walk past him to head toward the kitchen and ended up stopping right in front of him instead. “Have you been avoiding me?”
He paused. “Yes.”
“Why?” I stood a little taller, even if the top of my head still barely reached his chin.
“Because,” he muttered. “It’s just better if I do.”
“Why?” I said more sternly. “You know what, fine. Whatever.” I pushed past him toward the kitchen like I had originally planned. I was hungry and horny and those two bitchy H-words were driving me up the wall. That’s all this was.
Pull it together, Zeppelin. Don’t cause a fuss over nothing. Nothing. Right, because that’s what this is.
He was behind me in an instant, hard cock pressing against my ass as his strong arms caged me to the counter, and the bread I was holding died in my fist. “Did you come that night, Miss Bryce?”
I narrowed my eyes for the briefest of seconds but all fight left my body almost instantly. I could physically feel how much he wanted me and it went straight down to my clit. “No,” I whispered, only slightly taken aback by his bluntness. “I haven’t since.”
“Fuck.” His fingertips dug into my hips as he grunted like he was still trying to fight this, but he spun me around, lifting me by my ass up onto that smooth marble — and finally fucking kissed me. It was teeth and tongue and heat and need and fury. He kissed me like he was mad at me, like he loved me, like he hated me and wanted to break me apart right there in full view of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d been trying to make.
Fucking hell, this is what I’ve been missing my whole life. I moaned into his mouth, loathing the clothes that were blocking him from finally entering my body. I needed him, more than I’d ever needed anything before, and I wrapped my legs around him to pin him there. I returned that kiss with all I had as the brand he left expanded over my entire body, down to my soul, until every inch of me belonged to him.
But the coward pulled back. Messy, flushed, wild-haired, he took two unsteady steps back and whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before turning around and bolting out the door.
“Don’t,” I whispered to no one, because he had already gone.
For the first time in a while, I wanted to cry. It took a lot for me to get to that point. Normally, I compartmentalized so well I was able to keep tears in one of the locked boxes but nothing in my brain was in the right box. I was sad, angry, annoyed, frustrated, horny, but above everything, I was cold. The warmth he gave me felt as if it was sucked through the door he ran out of and all I was left with was the haunting ice blue of his eyes. For a few moments I hated him, and I screamed in frustration just to get that hatred out of my body and regain my bearings. I took deep breaths until I felt better, then realized that dumbass ran outside without a shirt or shoes on. He was so scared of something happening between us that he’d make a fool of himself in the front yard, and a part of me had to give him props for the commitment. At least his aversion to this wasn’t that C word.
No, it’s just communication.
After that, my tears found their compartment again and I laughed. This was ridiculous, he was ridiculous, and I wasn’t going to cry over a man that was never mine. No, that wasn’t who Zeppelin Bryce was, Zeppelin Bryce would make him regret it. I just didn’t have a clue how to do that yet.
The bread I murdered mocked me on the counter when I returned with Charlie a while later, and I decided to leave it there for Sterling to see. It was his fault, after all, but my plan went slightly awry when the wrong Bishop saw the carnage.
Charlie blinked at it, then at me, then back at the bread. “What happened here?”
