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Chapter Nineteen
Peyton
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Abel: Are you home?
My heart rate picks up speed at the sight of Abel’s name on my phone. It’s been five days since Sven’s party – since the most incredible night of my life – and this is the first time I have heard from him other than the brief text conversation we had on Monday when he said he was going out of town.
Outside of that it’s been radio silence. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me more than it should.
Me: Yes.
I type out my response with shaky fingers.
Abel: Are you alone?
Me: Yes.
I wait for him to say more. One-minute passes, then two. I start to grow impatient. But just as I begin to type out another text a knock sounds at my front door.
Tossing my phone onto the coffee table, I cross the living room. Given the messages we just exchanged I can only guess it’s Abel and this makes me equally excited and nervous.
I look down and assess my current situation. Pink tank, gray jersey shorts, my hair in a messy knot. Not good.
Shit.
I consider darting to the bathroom to throw on a little lip gloss and take my hair down but I know I don’t have time.
“Who is it?” I call through the door.
It’s times like these that I really miss having a peep hole. Why we don’t have one is beyond me. I thought that was something that was standard but apparently, it’s not.
“It’s me.” Abel’s deep voice vibrates from the other side of the door causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.
Unlatching the deadbolt, I pull the door open, but before I have time to say anything, let alone react, Abel’s lips are on mine and he’s backing me into the living room.
He kisses me hard, his hands roaming feverishly, clawing at my clothes as he kicks the door closed.
“Bedroom,” he growls against my mouth.
“This way.” I manage to break away from his assault long enough to grab his hand and pull him down the hall toward my bedroom.
The moment we’re tucked inside, he’s on me again. His mouth on my neck, his hands up my shirt, his erection digging into my stomach.
“I need you,” he murmurs against my mouth, stepping back long enough to remove my tank in one quick motion.
“Then I’m yours.” My hands slide down his torso to the buckle of his jeans, popping them open with ease.
——
“So, are you going totell me what’s going on or am I going to have to pry it out of you?” I ask, my head laying on Abel’s chest as I trace lazy circles on his stomach with the tip of my finger.
“What do you mean?” His hand slides through my hair, playing with the ends.
“I knew the instant you walked in the door that something was wrong.”
And I did too. I could sense it in the urgency of his kiss and the intensity of his touch. He needed an escape and I am where he chose to find it.
