Page 74 of Playing By The Rules

Now I’m the one nodding. Almost frantically in my excitement. “Got it.”

The fact that he wants a next time leaves me breathless.

His hand drops from my body and I fight the disappointment that threatens to sweep over me. Even though I’m still on top of him and can feel his erection beneath me, heavy and insistent.

“We should go,” he says.

More disappointment hits. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You…didn’t get to have your turn.” I shift my hips, sliding my pussy over his cock, and I swear his eyes cross. “Let me help you.”

“I’m fine,” he insists as I crawl off him, plopping into the passenger seat before I reach for him. My fingers eager to slide beneath the waistband of his shorts. He stops me, his fingers curling around my wrist like a steel band, holding me off.

“I’m okay,” he reiterates. “Really.”

He lets go of my wrist, and I settle into the passenger seat, feeling silly. Worse? Feeling inept. I just came all over his shorts—pretty sure I saw a wet spot I left behind, how mortifying—and now he won’t let me finish him off, so to speak. All while I sit here wearing an old T-shirt he tore and a pair of crumpled shorts that barely cover my ass.

Sighing, I slip my feet into my Ugg slippers I left on the floorboard and turn my head so I can stare out the window, feeling silly. Cam starts the car, and for once in his life, he doesn’t rev the engine or make the tires squeal when he pulls out of the parking spot. Instead, he drives calmly, pulling out of the park moments later, not saying a single word.

While I’m slowly dying inside.

All my earlier excitement over him saying we’re going to do this again evaporates. I’m left wallowing in my confusion and worry, sneaking glances at him every few minutes. He looks no different. He rolled up the window so the wind is no longer blowing through his hair and his expression is calm. Almost indifferent?

God, I can’t tell. I haven’t spent enough time with him yet to get a good read on him and his facial expressions. And what man turns down a hand job or blow job? I mean, seriously? Why would he say no?

By the time we’re pulling back into my apartment parking lot, I’m a twisted-up mess, worried he’s going to reject me outright before he kicks me out of the Challenger, once and for all.

“Stay here,” he says, his voice firm as he puts the car into park and opens the door, climbing out before he shuts the door behind him.

I’m sitting there feeling stupid with my tore-up T-shirt and my boobs essentially hanging out. I clutch my bent arms to my chest, my fists at my mouth. I part my lips, nibbling on my thumb, nearly jumping out of my skin when he opens the passenger side door and kneels down.

“Here.” He holds out a T-shirt and I take it, lifting my gaze to his. He’s watching me carefully, another bundle of fabric in his hands. “I brought you a sweatshirt too. You looked cold.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking the sweatshirt from him.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” He rises to his full height and carefully shuts the door, leaving me alone once again.

Giving me the opportunity to bring the sweatshirt to my face and breathe deep. It smells like him. Spicy and fresh. I get rid of the torn T-shirt, dropping it onto the floorboard before I slip on the T-shirt he gave me. It’s huge, fitting me like a dress, and when I pull the hoodie sweatshirt over my head, it fits much the same.

I absolutely love it.

Glancing out the window, I see he’s leaning against his car, waiting for me, and so I open the door and go to stand beside him, the T-shirt and hoodie both falling to my knees, almost swallowing me whole.

“Kind of big on you,” he notes, his voice laced with amusement.

It’s the amusement that gives me hope. If he wasn’t interested in me anymore, I’d already be in my apartment and sobbing in my pillow.

“Hey.” He grabs hold of the strings of the hoodie and tugs on them, bringing me closer to him. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“Stop apologizing for something you meant to destroy,” I say, resting my hands on his chest, giddy at the realization that I can touch him whenever I want.

At least in this moment. And God, isn’t it wonderful?

“You’re right. I’m not sorry. You look better in my hoodie anyway.” He tugs on the strings again, bringing me even closer, and when he sweeps his mouth over mine, I revel in the tingles cascading over my skin, leaving me breathless. “I’ll see you later?”

I nod, my movements slow. Languid. Like I’m in a trance.

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