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Sadness seeps into her dark eyes.
“I know.” I smile. It hurts.
My hard-on is a throbbing, insistent third party. I’m going to have to limp out of here. I kiss her on the nose and take a breath, blowing it out as I sit up. I run my fingers through my hair and scrub my face, trying to snap out of the sex haze that has slipped into the room like a thick veil of fog.
“Sorry about that.” She sits up, looking as sex crazed as I do with her hands gripping the bedding and her hair a mess. We share a longing gaze before I nod to myself. The moment is over, but neither of us wants it to be.
“Why can’t we do this again?” I have to ask. My brain’s not functioning.
She bumps my shoulder with hers instead of answering. So many reasons.
“Okay, Mini.” I sigh. It comes from the depths. “I’m going to go.”
I wait for her to argue, tipping my head as a prompt.
“Okay. Good night.” Part of her doesn’t want to concede. A very big part of me agrees with that part of her.
I pull my shirt on, watching as she folds her legs under her. I have to turn away. The sight of her sitting there, eyes wide and on me, hair raked in the pattern of my fingers, is too much for me to turn down. Especially now.
At her doorway, I torture myself with one final glance. Her eye makeup is sexily smudged, her shirt wrinkled. I’m almost out the door when she calls my name. I’m primed and ready for whatever she says next.
“Don’t forget your plans.”
Except for that.
“Right.” The deck plans.
I tell her I’ll let myself out, and head to her parents’ bedroom, where I find the plans and the information I need. After snapping a photo with my phone, I hear the quiet click of her bedroom door.
When I walk by, I pause at the wooden panel, every ounce of me wanting one more taste before I leave. All I have to do is knock and I bet she’ll let me back in. And then we can continue what we were doing and damn the consequences. I raise my hand, then ball it into a fist before lowering my arm.
She had her reasons to stop us. I respect her enough to let that sleeping dog lie.
I jog down the stairs, ignoring the pull that would have me going back up and knocking anyway. But this isn’t about me and what I want.
It never has been.
