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“I think there is.”
She swallows, looking unnerved.
Shit. Did I make her uncomfortable again?
I stand, placing her binder on the coffee table. “I’ll let you study for real now on your own. You want the bedroom or the living room?”
“I…” She shakes her head. “I’ll take the bedroom so you can watch TV out here.” She stands and picks up her binder. “Thanks for talking with me.”
She moves forward and gives me a brief hug, just long enough for her vanilla scent to envelop me, then disappears into my room.
I blow out a breath, lacing my hands behind my neck. How the hell did that conversation turn so personal? It seems like more and more lately things have been turning in that direction. This… vulnerability with her has been unexpected but not unwelcome.
The only thing is, where is it leading?
* * *
Something warm and soft shifts against me, consciousness gradually returning. And yep, for the third day in a row… I’m hard. Am I going to wake like this every time?
My arm is around Tessa, my front to her back, holding her securely to me. But this time, there’s no mistaking that she’s the one moving, her ass rubbing against my dick, the pressure incredible. No wonder I’m turned on.
Is she asleep? She must be, right? She obviously wouldn’t do this if she was awake. Would it be awful if I let her keep doing it? This might be the only chance I get to feel her like this, sliding up and down my shaft, pressing back firmly.
Is she dreaming about me? Is that too much to hope for?
My fingers flex on her stomach, unable to help myself, wanting to move against her, too.
But it seems as if I’ve broken the spell, her movements slowing. It’s so quiet, her breaths are audible, not a steady, rhythmic sound like she’s asleep.
The past two mornings I’ve rolled away from her as soon as I realized what was happening, but this time I stay where I am, neither of us acknowledging the compromising position we’re in as the seconds tick by.
It takes everything in me to keep still, to not grind against her the way she was doing to me, waiting for her to make the first move, to decide what will happen. She’s sure to get out of the bed at any moment, to wake up enough to realize what’s going on.
But against all odds, her hand shifts, coming to rest over mine, her fingers soft and delicate. She gives the slightest pressure, pushing my hand down, and I move it without resistance, in awe as she guides it to the juncture of her thighs. Is this really happening?
She presses back against me again, then forward into my hand, telling me with her body what she wants, and I softly rub her over her pajama pants, enjoying the way her breathing grows rougher, the way she rocks against me.
I keep quiet, too afraid she’ll come to her senses if I ask her what she’s thinking, taking this moment for what it is… even though I’m not sure what it is. Not that I’m complaining. I can’t deny this possibility crossed my mind that first night she asked to sleep together.
As she presses her ass against my front, I finally allow myself to move too, a low groan issuing from me as I grind on her. Christ, that’s good.
She lets go of me, but it’s too dark in here to see where she moves her hand. God, I wish I could see her body shifting in time with mine right now. I slip my hand under her pants, rubbing her over her underwear, and she inhales sharply, her hips thrusting forward.
She makes these little sounds of pleasure, spurring me on, and I breach the last barrier, lifting aside the edge of her panties to tease her seam, finding her slippery with arousal.
She jerks back against me, moaning, and as I enter a finger inside her, she’s already coming, her inner walls pulsing around my middle finger.
She stops moving, silent as she gets her breathing under control, and I let go of her, waiting for her cue on what to do next.
Where do we go from here? Was this a one-off occurrence? Did she wake up horny and needed a quick release, not considering the consequences?
How will this change things?
My alarm goes off on my phone, signaling it’s time to wake, and I roll over, sitting up to grab it from my bedside table and shut it off. My erection bobs between my legs, wanting more, but I ignore it. “I have to get ready for work.” They’re the first words we’ve spoken, despite everything we did.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I pause for a moment, seeing if she’ll say anything else, but she doesn’t.
