Text Appeal

“We’ve been exclusive in our fakery, haven’t we?” I ask before he can get a word out. “But it’s okay if you want to call one of your sex friends. I trust you not to get caught.”

“I don’t cheat. That’s not who I am.”

“It wouldn’t be cheating.”

“Yeah, but it would feel like it.”

I don’t know what to say to that.

He gives me a long serious look. Then he says, “Let’s get a drink and sit out front.”

“Wait…”

“I haven’t shown you my stars yet. You’re gonna be impressed.”

“You own them?”

“It’s more of a rental situation.”

“Funny. Connor, hold on a second,” I say, trying to get my head around what the fuck just happened. But he’s on the move, marching through the bedroom and into the kitchen. Turning off lights as he goes. He grabs a fresh t-shirt from the closet on his way and tugs it on over his head. Forget about the heavens. There goes my favorite view. “I do mean it. It’s okay if you call someone and disappear for a while.”

“This is the brand you like, right?” He grabs a bottle of Finnriver cider from out of the fridge. “You want a glass and some ice?”

I pause. “No. Just that’s fine.”

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. Why is this in your fridge?” I stare at the bottle in confusion. “You don’t drink it. I am not even convinced you like sweet things in general.”

“Is this the part where I say I’m sweet enough?” he asks and pops the cap off a beer. And the thing is, he only found out about my penchant for this cider last night at the bar. Which means that sometime between leaving me standing on the sidewalk after breakfast and picking me up to go to the reunion, he went and bought me some. Just in case. I’m not sure if this is important or not. But given recent events, it feels like it might be.

“Before you repeat yourself again, Riley, I’m not calling anyone or disappearing for a while to have sex.”

“Why not? Scared I’ll go through your underwear drawer while you’re out?” The moment the joke leaves my lips, I want to take it back. Shit. Where is Katja to slap her hand over my mouth when I need it?

As for Connor, he flashes me the fakest smile in the whole wide world and heads for the front door with his drink in hand.

Here is the moment of truth. Or rather, there goes the moment of truth. Along with the man I have all these messy emotions for. It feels like the window to sort this out is rapidly diminishing. I could just follow his lead and allow the topic to disappear into the ether. It’s not a bad idea. Sex can kill a friendship. I have seen it happen a time or two. Given how few friends I have in town, can I really afford to lose him?

No. Probably not. Though I really would like to ride him like a pony. Dammit.

Okay. This is fine. We’re going to sit outside and gaze at the heavens. Just the two of us hanging out after a heck of a night. Which sounds nice in theory. But I think I’m having a panic attack just the same. My stomach is sinking, and my heart is pounding and—

“Stop!”

Connor freezes. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um…”

“You look like you’re freaking out.”

“Yeah. I am. This is happening too fast. The moment is slipping away and…I think I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“Okay. Take a breath for me, Blue.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly while fanning my face with my hands. Because losing my shit over the possibility of not having sex with him puts me in this state apparently. “That’s better.”

“Good.” He nods. “Now what did you want to say?”

“I wanted to know why you weren’t calling any of your special friends. Because doing so would not really be cheating, you know?” I ask. “But then I made a joke and you didn’t tell me. And I really need to know the answer to that question. Please.”

The smile falls off his face and the line of his throat moves as he swallows. “I’m not calling anyone else because I don’t want anyone else.”

“Oh.”

“Thing is…I’m worried I’m heading in the wrong direction with you by trying to bring sex into it. And I’m worried I’m going to wind up making you uncomfortable when that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Keep talking.”

His brows draw down in frustration or misery or some combination of the two. “Do I have to?”

I just nod.

“Shit. I didn’t just worry about you all day. I wondered about you too. Mostly what you looked like naked.” He squints like he’s expecting me to smack him upside the head or something. “Is that okay?”

“Do you often have these sort of thoughts about friends and or acquaintances?”

“No. Or never to this degree. I can’t get you out of my head. But also, I don’t want to,” he says. “It’s been a while since I’ve been this worked up about someone. This situation with us can get kind of confusing, but… I am confused, actually. Can I stop talking now?”

“Sure.”

“Thank fuck for that.” He downs about half his beer. You’d think he just solved the world peace problem. “We going to go sit out and look at the stars or what?”

“It sounds like we’re both worried about the same thing. What if sex wrecks the friendship?”

He pauses to consider. “We wouldn’t let that happen, right?”

“Right. We’re both mature, capable adults,” I say, and it sounds good in theory. “Are you thinking this is a limited-time offer available while we’re fake dating sort of thing?”

“I don’t know. I guess so.”

“Okay. That’s a really ugly shirt.”

“What?”

“Your shirt. It’s repugnant.”

He raises his brows in confusion and looks down at the offending item of clothing. “It’s a plain black t-shirt. I only bought it a month ago.”

“Just unspeakably hideous in all the ways,” I say with my chin held high. “I feel bad for you, having to wear that.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yes. You should take it off. Now.”

He closes his mouth and stares at me like he’s reading my soul or something. Then at long last he says, “Okay.”

He sets his drink down on the table, strips off the shirt, and tosses it aside. Just throws it on the floor. The more of his skin I can see, the better I feel. Not a panic attack in sight. He flexes the muscles in his arms and shoulders as his chest rises on a deep breath. Like he feels better with less clothing too. Which just goes to show—I am a giver. He should thank me.

But instead, he says, “Any similarly strong feelings about my pants?”

“They disgust me.”

“Is that because she bought them?” he asks with his head cocked.

“Thought we weren’t talking about her.”

“Good point.”

“But no. They’re just yucky, you know?” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

“That’s a worry. Words are usually your thing.”

I shrug. How is my brain supposed to work when he’s showing me so much skin. Impossible. “The pants need to go, Connor. Whenever you’re ready…”

Holding my gaze all the while, he undoes the button and lowers the zipper and down they go. Never has seeing a pair of pants hitting the floor given me such pleasure. Beneath are navy boxer briefs with a sizeable bulge. It’s a wonder I don’t swallow my tongue. His big strong body is a thing of beauty. I could stare for days at his flat stomach and the line of hair leading down. It’s obscene how badly I want to trace the thick vein leading into his boxers. With my fingers, with my tongue…

He stalks toward me. Not stopping until he’s towering over me. “What’s next, Blue? What are you thinking?”

I reach up to wind my arms around his neck. This he allows. But when I rise to kiss him, he moves his mouth out of reach. Which is both rude and wildly fucking unfair.

“You were in charge the last time and it was a disaster, remember?” he asks, tapping me on the tip of my nose with his finger. The man’s lucky I don’t try to bite it off.

“To be fair, that’s not exactly what I said.”

“It’s probably best if I take on the burden of leadership. Since you let the team down so badly and all.”

I open my mouth to call him on his bullshit. But it’s all part of his nefarious plan. In the blink of an eye, his hands are in my hair and his tongue is in my mouth. There’s no hesitation. He touches and takes like I belong to him already. Like I have for a long time.

This is what I want. Nothing else matters. I close my eyes to shut out the world. My breasts are crushed against his chest, and I’m holding onto him tight. He kisses me hot and wet and deep, making my head spin. The familiar taste of him is heaven. Kissing him for hours would not be a chore.

One of his hands grips the nape of my neck while the other drags down the zipper on the back of my dress. I would offer to help get me undressed. It’s not as if I don’t have a vested interest in the outcome. But I’m pressed against him as hard as can be and doing my best to climb him like a tree. Nothing could be worth separating myself from him now. There’s no slow and easy. We’re all over each other and it’s perfect.

Sharp teeth nip at my bottom lip and the slight sting is sublime. His pupils are dilated, and his smile is pure wanton devilry. Seeing that smile on his poor bruised and battered face only adds to his whole roguish air. I press my thighs tightly together against the ache blooming inside.

Guess he gets frustrated with my favorite dress. Because I hear stitches tearing as he shoves it down my arms and over my hips. I will absolutely take the damage up with him later. But, for now, I am too turned on to care.

He doesn’t say a word. Guess he’s done with talking. With one arm around my back and the other beneath my knees, he sweeps me up into his arms. As if I weigh no more than a feather. Such a romance hero move.

Through the kitchen and into his bedroom. There are no lights on back here. But the moon is high and shining brightly. Along with a million or so stars scattered across the sky. He was right about them being spectacular. Ever so carefully, he lays me down on his bed. However, he doesn’t follow me onto the mattress. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark. To find him standing there staring down on me. I think he enjoys positions of power. And moonlight and shadows suit him just fine.

Slow and easy might work for him. But I need more now. It takes some wriggling around to undo my bra. But I get there. Guess Connor receives the message, because he skates his palms up the length of my legs. Not stopping until he reaches my Brazilian briefs. With a finger hooked on either side, he tugs them off and I’m bare. His gaze doesn’t move from between my legs the whole time. And the stiff outline of his cock beneath his boxer briefs seems to grow longer and thicker. Whatever he’s hiding under there is sizable.

Of course, he pauses to inspect my underwear, dangling the tangle of lace from his fingers. “What do we have here?”

“Connor…”

“Fuck you smell good. I could get high off the scent of your sweet pussy for days.”

“Come here.”

He cocks his head. “Seems I like some sweet things after all.”

Talk about a whole-body blush. Though it’s not like he can tell in the low lighting. It’s a little embarrassing, but whatever makes him happy. And it’s not like he doesn’t go straight to my head in all the ways. In a first for tonight, my underwear doesn’t get thrown aside. He places them almost reverently on the bedside table. Which is all nice and well, but the man really needs to focus.

“Hurry,” I say.

And he nods.

No thought is given to his own underwear. He simply pushes his briefs down his legs before stepping out of them. Then he searches the drawer for a condom, tears open the packet, and rolls it on. His capable hands make quick work of the job.

It’s hard to see much in the low light. But the feral glint in his eyes as he crawls between my legs is thrilling as fuck. The heat radiating off him is intense. My thighs cradle his hips as he holds his weight on one elbow. His mouth finds mine and his hand grips my breast. Back and forth, the pad of his thumb brushes over my hard nipple, making me shiver. Happiness is his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my body. Everything he does hits me straight between the thighs.

We kiss until I’m light-headed and dizzy. The hard length of his cock teasing the lips of my sex all the while. Sliding back and forth against my opening and driving me wild. I couldn’t be any wetter if I tried. I could cry for the need to have him fill me. To ease the horrible empty ache. But his hand settles on my neck, fingers gripping just so, holding me down to tell me he’s the one in control. No amount of squirming can maneuver him inside of me. And when my hand heads in the direction of his dick, he gives me that feral grin again and grabs my wrist.

Who is making that petulant whining noise? It can’t possibly be me. How embarrassing.

Of course he’s a control freak in bed. I love it and hate it in equal measures. My hands are anchored above my head, and he smacks my pussy with the flat of his palm. Holy hell, do I gasp. The shock of the sting is everything. Then his mouth attaches to the side of my breast. He licks the skin before sucking hard. Such a clever fucking mouth and hands he has. Because while this is going on, his calloused thumb rubs carefully on either side of my clit.

I can’t think for all the throbbing. Like my body is a raw nerve he knows how to play. Any minute now I’m going to explode. I have needed to come this badly approximately never. However, proving he is a complete and utter asshole, he stops short of giving me what I need.

And he accused me of being a serial killer.

I shudder and moan beneath him. However, he just gives me what I now know to be an evil grin. For shame. He should have warned me he was into edging. Which is not to say I wouldn’t still be exactly where I am. But manners matter and it would have been polite to say something. To give a girl warning. And I am going to tell him as much as soon as I am no longer overwhelmed and out of my mind and have remembered how to speak.

Meanwhile, his feverishly hot mouth is busy tracing a path. Up my neck and over my jaw and back to my mouth. My wrists push against his hold but it’s no good. Connor is more than strong enough to keep me in place. Though there is perhaps salvation in sight. He reaches down to grip his cock and lines up the head with my core. Fuck yes. Finally. Back and forth, he draws the thick, blunt head through the lips of my sex. Everything low in my body draws tight in anticipation.

There’s no finesse to him now. No cleverness or delaying. He shoves the long length into me. Like his dick is a goddamn battering ram knocking down a door. The sudden stretch of his thick hard-on inside me is a hell of a shock. All those little muscles in my sex spasm, and the way he groans into my ear. Like he’s the one barely hanging on. And it’s this guttural sound that hits me between the thighs and works for me to no end.

“You’re so hot and wet.” He presses the side of his face into my hair. “Fucking hell, Blue.”

I am this close to replying when he starts to move. When he grips the outside of my thigh, angling me just so, and proceeds to fuck me into his mattress. He’s all brute force and destruction as he slams himself into me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s broken down doors with his dick. But one thing I am certain of—the outline of my ass and back will be embedded in his bed for all time. And holy shit do I love it.

Our sweat-slick bodies move together. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the quiet of the night. Every muscle in him is straining as he thrusts into me. I wrap my legs around him and hold on for the ride, raising my pelvis to take him deep inside. My wrists have been freed. All the better to scratch his back and tug his hair and urge him on. Harder. Faster. Each stroke of his cock draws the tension between my hips tighter. Sensation sits at the base of my spine. So much feeling spreading out into each and every corner. No part of me is left untouched. It’s sharp and bright and ruins me completely when it hits.

I shout out and the sound echoes through the house and rings in my ears. My arms and legs wrap tightly around him. Like I’m afraid he might try to get away. But his hips buck against me, and he groans as he comes before collapsing on my chest. His chest heaves as he catches his breath. And tiny tremors have the muscles spasming in my sex. Little earthquakes keeping me from finding my feet and regaining my equilibrium. I knew sex with him would be good. This, however, is on a whole other level.

A post-coital silence settles in, punctuated by our heavy breaths and the beating of our hearts. It’s so strange the way I feel sparkly and numb and tired and happy and concerned at the same time.

He oh so carefully pulls out of me, holding the condom in place. Then he sits back on his heels, kneeling between my legs. A disheveled hero in supplication to my sex. That’s what I would name a statue of him. He ties off the prophylactic, climbs off the bed, and heads into the bathroom. All without a single word.

Someone has to say something. The quiet is killing me. But there’s no way I’m going to talk first. And anyway, it’s good for him to practice his communication skills. By being cowardly and not going first, I am in fact doing him a favor. So there.

The water turns on in the shower. He still hasn’t said anything. There’s no way he could have thought the sex was bad. I am still lying here shook. Literally. My knees are shaking like jelly. No, he can’t possibly have thought it was shit.

He strides back into the bedroom, still naked as the day he was born. Though a whole lot bigger and hotter and all the rest. I’m busy searching for the sheet or duvet or something that will provide some cover when his hands burrow beneath my back and legs.

He lifts me up into his arms once again. There’s no real expression on his face. Or not one I can read. His golden hair is in disarray and he is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I’m not saying my heart skips a beat, but if I experienced cardiac abnormalities, he would definitely be the cause.

“Connor,” I say in a friendly yet neutral tone of voice, “what’s going on?

“Shower.”

“Right.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He watches me with a gaze both sure and steady. Here is a man who has recently come and is at peace with the world. There’s nothing deeper happening here. And I can relax.

Then he frowns and says, “Sorry if I was too rough. I just…I got a little…you know what I mean.”

“You weren’t too rough. It was great.”

His smile is pure male satisfaction. “Good.”

“Are you going to carry me around from now on?”

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyelids and just breathe him in. The feel of his warm skin and the forest and sea scent of him. It soothes me on a level I didn’t know existed. Deeper than bone deep. Like he speaks to something hidden down in my soul. “No, it’s not.”