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“Okay,” I murmur.
It’s his turn to look taken aback. “Okay? That’s it?”
“You’ve shown me you’re serious about not shagging me. That’s fine.”
“It is?”
I nod. “There’ll be plenty others who’ll be happy to oblige.”
“The fuck?” His eyebrows slash down. “What others?”
“Oh, you know, if I walk down to the pub there’ll be more than enough takers down for a jolly romp in between the sheets.”
His jaw tics. A pulse pops at his temple. His eyes narrow to slits. The anger leaps off of him and that familiar anticipation thrums across my nerve-endings. “Of course, you could simply satisfy me, and then I wouldn’t have to do that.”
He makes a noise deep in his throat—something between a growl and a groan—and a thousand bubbles pop under my skin. His shoulders bunch. He leans in until our eyelashes tangle. “Well played, baby, but you forget, I’m a sportsman.”
“So?” I flutter my eyelashes at him.
His frown deepens. “So, I’m deeply competitive, and you’ve just poked the beast by talking about other men in our bed.”
Our bed. He said our. Probably doesn’t mean anything. But still, he said our. That’s good, right?
“What’re you going to do about it—" I squeak, for he’s grabbed hold of the neckline of my sleep shirt and tugged. It tears down the center, and he glances down at my bare breasts. He licks his lips, then smirks. “Hope you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions.”
* * *
Turns out, I wasn’t ready. Not for the non-stop fucking that ensued for the next eighteen hours. And none of it was missionary style. It started with him flipping me on all fours, arse in the air, and taking me from behind. Then, it was against the window, in the shower—where he used the conditioner to redefine just how good anal could be— before we fell asleep in a delicious tangle. I woke up, found the bed empty, and walked to the kitchen to find he’d made coffee and breakfast—scrambled eggs and toast. We resumed the fucking right after, with an orgasm on the kitchen counter. Then he took me over the sofa in the living room, followed by a post breakfast and post orgasm snooze. Lunch ended with us retiring to the mat in front of the fire. He lit it, claiming the sparks from my eyes were enough to keep him warm, but he wanted me to be at the right temperature. Then, he stripped me off his shirt I’d pulled on at some point and proceeded to eat me out at the same time that I sucked him off—the classic sixty-nine position, which even I knew about—before he flipped me around on my back and eased into me.
Now, I look up into his gaze and wrap my arms and legs about him. “I love you.”
He blinks; a strange look comes into his eyes. “What did you say?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell was that? A confession, just as things were getting on somewhat of an even keel between us? Not that anything is settled, but the fact he blew off practice to stay with me, and never stopped wanting to be inside me, over and over again, has to count for something, right?
Or maybe not, for he pulls out of me and then slides off the bed so fast, he stumbles. In fact, his speed of retreat is so fast, I’d laugh. Except it’s not funny, at all. Not when I just poured my heart out to him, and he looks like he’s going to be sick.Why did I have to go and open my big mouth, huh?Clearly, the sex addled my brain into thinking that because he’d been making love to me for the past twenty-four hours, he was in love with me. Which he, clearly, is not, based on how he’s looking at me now.
“I said, I love you.”Yeah, nice; repeat it so there’s no mistake. But once I said it aloud, I’m not going to retract it. That would just be cowardly, and it’s the truth, so too-fucking-bad.I rise to my knees and slap my palms on my hips. “Did that scare you off, big boy? Things get too real for you suddenly, huh?”
He rakes his gaze down my breasts, to the triangle between my thighs, and when he raises his eyelids, lust hangs heavy in his irises. “All I’m saying is that there’s no need to bring feelings into what we just did.”
“What?” I stare at him horror. “What did you just say?”
“Uh. Just that we can be civil about what happened between us, can’t we?”
“Oh, my god, are you hearing yourself?” I screech.
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing, except for your big, fat cock, which you haven’t hesitated to stuff into every one of my holes every chance you got.”
He smirks. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“That’s beside the point,” I huff.
“That isthepoint, baby.”
“No—" I shake my head. “No, no, no. You don’t get to sound all smirky and full of yourself, when I’m the one who’s been full of you the past almost twenty-four hours.”
