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“It’s understandable to have been distracted,” I try to soothe, but he lets out a somewhat humorless laugh. “Ok. Distracted isn’t the right word.”
“Fucking oblivious, more like it.” Finally, he looks over at me, and slowly his features melt into a soft smile. Fitz reaches out a hand, and I lace our fingers together. His gaze goes to our joined fingers. “I was oblivious to so many things, for way too long.” He gives my hand a tug, and I crawl toward him, letting him pull me back to straddling his thighs. His hands find my ass a lot faster than I was expecting, and I laugh, falling forward and letting my forehead rest on his strong chest.
“Everyone has their own way of numbing their pain,” I mumble into his hideous burnt orange tee shirt, much like the one I’d been handed the other night. Thankfully, the one I’m in now is a WHG Fun Field Day shirt from several years before. “Mine just happened to include a lot less work and a lot more alcohol.” His chest shakes with a low laugh, and one of his hands runs along my jawline, nesting in the curls at the back of my neck. He pulls my head up until I’m looking at him. His eyes are swimming with something I can’t place, those deep greens misty and a little lost. “She really hurt you, didn’t she?” He blinks at me, a few times, before recognition hits him. Then, he nods.
“They really hurt you, didn’t they?” Immediately, my eyes swim with tears - fuck, I’ve been like this all damn week - and I mentally kick myself. I’m due to start my period in a few days, and I absolutely can not lose my shit now, here, in front of Fitz. Slowly, I nod, trying to look away, but he turns my face back toward him. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he brings his lips to mine.
The kiss starts slow, soft and gentle like he’s testing the waters. But as his hand pulls on my hair, the other gripping my hip like he’s trying to eliminate any space between us, our tongues start to tangle and it goes from soft and steady to hot and heavy with the flip of a switch. One second, I’m on top of him, using his shoulders for support. The next, I’m laying with my legs half off the bed as Fitz pulls my panties down with a lazy move that leaves a trail of goosebumps down my legs.
“I hope you know,” he says, kissing the inside of one knee, then the other, “that I have no intention of hurting you.” I swallow the lump in my throat when he slides my underwear off my foot, letting it hit the floor with the shirt I hadn’t noticed he’d taken off. He hitches one of my ankles over his shoulder, kissing further up my thigh. “When you’re ready, I want to know all the ways, all the places you hurt.” He stops a few inches from the place I really want his mouth, starting on my other leg in the same motion. “But for now, I just want you to feel as good as you’ve made me feel.”
And without a warning, without so much as even a pause, Fitz buries his face between my legs with a fury that could truly only be described as a man on a mission. His tongue finds my clit in seconds and I jolt against him, but his arms are locked so tight around my thighs, there’s no chance I’ll budge.
“Oh,my God,” I moan, one hand covering my eyes and the other gripping the duvet as I feel my back arch at every stroke of his tongue cross my already slick core. After a few seconds - minutes? Hours? - he moves one of his hands away from my thigh, which is trembling on his shoulder, and traces a finger along the folds between my legs, until he finally reaches my entrance. “You’re such a fucking tease,” I breathe out, my chest shaking with each violent wave that goes through me.
His laugh against my clit only makes it worse, and it takes everything in me not to clamp my legs around his head. “Enjoying that?” Fitz asks when he comes up for air, but doesn’t give me a chance to answer before he slips a finger inside, adding a second just a few strokes later. He curls his fingers, his tongue returning to that relentless rhythm until I’m practically levitating off the bed, grinding my hips into his face.
And when I come, it hits me so fast and so hard I don’t even have a second to warn him as I spasm in his grip, moving so jerkily I’m surprised I don’t manage to injure him again. He rides out the last few waves with me, letting each second pass with another stroke, another lick, until I’m a sweaty, melty mess on the duvet, half-covering my eyes from the sheer embarrassment of my own neediness. I about broke his nose. And I was thinkinghewas going to be the putty inmyhands.
I watch through the small slit left between my fingers as he stands up, crawling up on the bed and giving me that same hard kiss I gave him just seconds after he finished in my mouth. I can taste myself on him, and it does something to my insides when he leans back and I wipe a bit of shine off his upper lip. His dazzling smile returns as he climbs back off the bed, making his way toward the bathroom.
I stare at the ceiling, half-dazed, mind wandering. Fuck.
I see Fitz lean against the doorframe of the bathroom, and in my moment of post-coital, pre-period hormonal clarity, I muse out loud, “Why do your sheets smell different?” There’s a soft chuckle, and I look over to where Fitz stands.
“Okay, bloodhound.” He moves across the room and settles on the bed next to me. “I asked my laundry service to switch to a hypoallergenic detergent.”
I feel my eyebrows knit together, and he meets my gaze with an expectant look. Then it clicks. I’d told him I’d been itchy after last weekend.
“You changed your laundry detergent because of me?” It comes out half an octave higher than intended, and though his gaze flits down to the hair barely covering my chest, he gives me a small smile.
“Couldn’t have you scratching up this beautiful skin.” He slides a hand down my upper arm, and involuntarily, I shudder.
I’m not sure whether it’s because of the sentiment of his switch, or the compliment, or the cold from the overhead fan above me.
All three. It’s probably all three.
I wake up several hours later with Fitz pulled close behind me for the second time in a week. I think the combination of our exertion and a long week for each of us left us more than ready to curl up for the night, but it didn’t make the ache I was feeling any less real. It took everything in me not to wake him up, pushing my hips against him, but when I tilt my head to look at him, he’s just so peaceful. My living room was on the receiving end of one of his less than restful evenings, so instead of rousing him, I pulled the discarded top sheet around myself and went to get another glass of water.
When I pad back in the room, he’s turned over, and Bex is curled up against his back, with Roscoe where my feet had been. Hmph.
I set my glass down on the entry table and check my phone - a few emails, some texts from our group chats.
Group Text (3)Penny, Bianca, Alex, Carla, Vic
PENNY ROBINSON
Are we still doing fam dinner and races Friday after next? Trying to get carpool sorted.
BIANCA DELMONICO – 911 CONTACT
That’s the plan. Any objections?
ALEX CALLOWAY
Nolan’s mom will be in that weekend, so we should be good.
I glance at the time. It’s almost two in the morning, too late to respond, but I make a mental note to reply later. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a light move across the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows in Fritz’s room. They face his backyard and have reflective covers to keep prying eyes out, so when I quietly walk over to them to watch the plane I’d spotted fly across the dark sky, I’m not worried anyone will see me.
