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His finger twitched. I went over the edge, gasping, my back lifting so my chest pressed against him.
I exploded and cursed, riding out the waves.
When I came down, he was grinning at me, but his eyes had darkened again and were back to being focused on my mouth. “That’s one.”
My eyes widened, not getting his meaning, until he was gone.
My shirt was off.
His shirt was next.
My shorts were yanked away, tossed to the floor, and he had his jeans off before he came back down. This time, he nudged aside my legs and his mouth found me.
Oh.
Oh.
That was what he meant. He was working on number two already.
Oh, dear God.
I reached down and held on to the back of his head.
I was coming apart not long after that, and then he was up and sliding into me.
The third time wasn’t the last one.
He slowed, taking his time with the first two climaxes, as if he needed to give that to me, but when he was inside me. Whatever had been bothering him, whatever had brought him to me, took over. His thrusts grew frenzied, almost desperate, as if he were chasing something away and he needed to get lost in me to do that.
His hands gripped my hips, and he angled me higher for him. He slipped out, sitting up until he was somewhat kneeling between my legs, and then he was at my entrance again. He slid in, rearing back and going again.
And again.
He was pounding into me.
I groaned as I pressed my palms to my headboard.
He lifted me up, going hard and fast and rough, but still going.
Sensation after sensation was hitting me, making me almost blind from what he was doing to me, how he was bringing me to the edge, right there, and I was just about to climax, when he’d pull back, hold off. He’d wait, over and over again, sliding in, bringing me to the same point, and holding.
I was ready to scream for release, but I watched him. He wasn’t looking at me.
This was all him. It was as if he were punishing himself, not letting himself release, until finally, a savage roar erupted from the back of his throat, and gripping my hips again, he slammed into me.
I jolted upright, sitting from the explosion that tore through me, but it was good.
Too good.
He caught me before I began to slump back down, and held on to me, half-hugging me. He was riding out his own climax, his body shaking before he pulled out, letting both of us fall back down to the bed. He curled in behind me. “Shit. Sorry about that.”
I laughed, my body weak in the most glorious way from what we’d just done. “For what? That was . . . that was another level.”
He laughed shortly, brushing a kiss to the back of my shoulder before he started to sit up.
“Hey.” I covered his hand on my arm with his. “Stay.”
A shadow crossed over his face. “I don’t know.”
I settled more into my covers, reaching for a blanket and hauled it over us both.
He wasn’t getting up, but he wasn’t relaxing either.
I yawned, knowing even my toes were relaxed after what we just did. “Do you want to talk now?”
He tensed, his arms tightening before his hand dropped to my stomach. My other one stayed on his so it moved with him. “About what?”
“I thought this was over. You and me.” I flipped around so I could see him better. We were face to face until he shifted so he was a little on his back, but his hand stayed on my stomach, his thumb beginning to rub back and forth in a small circle. “After earlier.”
“Oh.” He frowned, that shadow still in place. “No. I mean, I meant what I texted. That’s not on you.”
“Will you be okay with my cousins?”
“Yeah. We’re guys. The only thing that could get between us is you, and well, they already know about this. Think some wrestling moves and punches will be nothing.”
I frowned. He really meant that, saying it so casually. “I was worried.”
He shrugged into the bed. “Don’t be, not about that.”
“Okay.” I wanted to ask what brought him here, what made him look like that, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. This was unlike him, where he was showing me he was a human. Not a machine. Not just cold and locked down, only coming alive when he was inside me. This was a whole different Scout, and I didn’t want him to go. When he’d go, the coldness would come back.
He’d return to locking me out unless he was in my space, getting in my business.
I liked getting this glimpse.
I laughed at that realization.
“What?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Just . . . sometimes it’s like you’re a robot, always guarded. Showing no emotion.” He didn’t reply so I moved my head to see him. He wasn’t looking at me, looking off into the room. So screw it. I asked, “Why’d you come tonight?”
