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Her movements become jerkier, her moans louder as her breathing changes and I wonder if she’s woken but her eyes remain closed so I can’t tell. I cup her throat softly, my thumb grazing her pulse as it beats frantically beneath her delicate skin. My cock is aching, straining at my pants and I reach down and palm it for some relief, and let out a groan of my own.
I could come from just watching her get off, she’s so stunning. There aren’t words good enough to explain it. Her lips part and she arches her body, her breasts pressing against my chest, nipples hard nubs. I rock toward her, my cock skimming her belly as her sex rolls against me, the heat and wetness of her pussy soaking through her panties.
It would take nothing for me to run my hand up her thigh and expose her panties beneath the little blue floral dress. Her skin would be smooth and soft beneath my palm as I stroked her to climax, but that’s not a line I can cross.
“Beck.”
My name said in that breathy whisper almost makes me lose my mind and slide between her thighs, but instead, it shatters the bubble and I still, lifting my hands off her throat and edging backward. A moan of displeasure whimpers out of her as I extract myself. What the fuck was I thinking almost making her come? She was asleep and I almost took advantage. Fuck, I did take advantage. I move away and she rolls, her hands reaching before she stills, her entire body freezing.
I stand and give her my back as I walk away to give us some distance and clench my shaking hands.
Fuck!
I set to cleaning the carnage that I left the kitchen in, wiping the surfaces and stacking the pans in the dishwasher. In my operating room, I am fastidious about order, but at home, I’m more relaxed or I try to be. It doesn’t always work.
“Hey, did I miss the end of the film?”
I look up at Amelia as she ambles into the room, clocking her pink cheeks and the way she won’t quite meet my gaze. She’s embarrassed. I thank God I didn’t let her finish and wake up. Although it does leave us both horny and unsatisfied. Maybe I should go to the club.
As I get the thought, her doorbell rings and she frowns.
“Expecting company?”
“No, although Ryker did say he might stop by and sort out my internet for me and set up my wireless network.”
I shove a pod into the dishwasher and turn it on as she heads to the door. I listen unashamedly as she greets her visitor.
“Hey, I didn’t expect you.”
“Hope I’m not intruding. I just figured it was easier to stop by than call.”
Xander’s deep voice echoes through the room, and I can’t help the wash of pleasure it gives me.
“You don’t need a reason to stop by, Xander. Come in. I was just going to make a drink. Do you want something?”
He turns the corner, his step faltering as he sees me. His glance goes to Amelia. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude when you have guests.”
“It’s fine. Beck is a fixture, not a guest.”
“Hey.”
Her lips twist into a smile and she blows me a kiss, which makes my heart skitter in my chest as I try not to read into it. I’ve become the King of reading into Amelia’s every nuance lately, and every single time I have to snap myself out of it.
“I heard you had a pretty good date. Good job on the flowers, man.”
Xander seems slightly taken aback by my words, his cheeks flushing a lovely pink. It looks good on him and his eyes are crystal clear. His skin is tan and healthy, and not the sallow, sickly color from when he was taking oxy. Finding him slumped in that bathroom still wakes me in a sweat. I honestly thought he was dead, and only my insistence on keeping Naloxone in the office saved him. Well, that and getting him into a top rehab facility.
“Thanks, Amelia makes it easy.”
He smiles as he says it and we both turn to her. She’s smiling between us, clearly pleased with how this is going down. I hate that she doubts my ability to behave and be nice to someone she cares about.
“That she does.”
“Would you like a glass of wine, Xander?”
Amelia moves to the fridge and pulls out her favorite bottle of chardonnay and pours us both a glass. This is how our usual evening would go after a movie.
“I don’t actually drink.”
