Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“No. I liked it better with your tits out.”
“Of course you did.” She crawled into bed beside me. “Don’t sulk.”
An awkward silence stretched between us in the darkness. What in the hell was I supposed to do here? Tell her goodnight and roll the fuck over?
I swiped a hand down my jaw, then turned on the pillow to look at her. “This is me not fucking you.”
She laughed, and holy shit, she was gorgeous when she smiled like that. “You’re doing so good.”
I wanted to kiss her. But kissing would make my dick even harder. Then I’d want to touch her. Then I’d need to fuck her.
“Is this a first for you? Having a girl in bed and not screwing her…”
“Having a girl in a bed is a first, baby girl.” Taking a girl to bed said things; it was too personal, and it gave them every opportunity to try to stay. You get one in the back of a car, a bathroom, a closet—they had no choice but to leave.
“Is this where you confess you’re secretly saving yourself for marriage?”
“Yeah—no.”
“So, what do you do? Just screw them in a random van? Whose van was that?”
“My neighbor’s, and anywhere but a bed.”
“We’ve been on a bed before, so you’re full of shit.”
“A Barrington prick’s bed doesn’t count.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
She went to kiss me, and I grabbed her throat. Because if she wanted to torture me, I was going to torture her. “If you really don’t want me to fuck you, you can’t kiss me in this bed.”
A slow smile inched over her face. “Not even one kiss?”
I pressed a quick one to her lips, then adjusted my dick. “Now go to sleep, or I’m fucking you.”
On a laugh, she threw her leg over mine, then laid her palm on my chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I stared at the ceiling, realizing I was more than officially screwed.
I was in bed.
With a girl.
And I was okay that I wasn’t going to fuck her because I liked her that damn much.
29
Drew
The bang of pots and pans in the kitchen woke me way too early the next morning.
A heavy arm lay across my waist. The rasp of Bellamy’s breath soothed me, and his firm grip on my body was reassuring and protective.
Another loud bang came from downstairs, and Bellamy groaned, tightening his hold on me.
“What is Hendrix doing?” I grumbled, wincing against the bright light spilling through the threadbare curtains.
“Who knows.” He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck, and a comforting warmth crawled through my veins. “It’s best not to ask, though.”
I didn’t want to get out of this bed, but I was grounded and had no idea when my dad might pop up. Plus, Nora had my car. “Can you take me home? Nora took my car.”
“Yeah. I gotta go get Arlo, anyway.” He threw back the covers, then shifted off the bed. My gaze trailed over his broad back and his ass when he leaned over to grab his jeans. “I guess I’ll need to take your friend home, too. Hendrix’s ass sure can’t.”
I got dressed, then I did the full-on walk of shame through Hendrix’s decaying house. Only I hadn’t had a one-night stand.
We’d slept in the same bed, and Bellamy hadn’t tried it on once. He’d even told me not to kiss him so he wouldn’t try, and I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.
We rounded the corner into the living room. Dishes clattered in the kitchen before something shattered.
“What the hell are you doing, dipshit?” Bellamy shouted.
I followed him into the kitchen, immediately covering my eyes when I saw Diane on her knees in front of Hendrix.
“What the hell, man?” Bellamy turned, pressing my face into his chest and shielding me from the sight of Hendrix face-fucking my friend. “You’ve got a bedroom,” Bellamy said.
“And you’ve got a house…”
“Seriously?”
“The kitchen’s way better,” Hendrix said on a cackle. “Can you leave so she can finish?”
Bellamy started pushing me toward the living room.
“She’ll be done in five—no two minutes,” Hendrix called. “Damn. Where’d you learn that…”
* * *
My stomach dropped when Bellamy pulled up outside my house, and a new Maserati sat in the drive. My dad was back early. And I was supposed to be grounded.
I didn’t care about my dad’s punishments for the most part, and neither did he, so long as there was at least the perception that I was actually following them.
I tossed my head back against the seat and groaned. “Fuck.”
Bellamy leaned forward, staring at the driveway. “So, the asshole went with a black one this time?”
“Apparently so. Think I can convince him I went for a morning run?” I asked, attempting to cover up that I was probably about to get put on house arrest.