Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
But three knocks hit the door. “Hey, where do you keep the coffee?”
She startles, looking down at me, and I try to answer, but my throat is dry. “Fuck,” I whisper.
“Is that Hawke?” she pants.
But then her faces pinches in pain, and she moans. I clasp my hand over her mouth.
“Hunter,” Hawke barks.
“I’m getting dressed!” I growl, dropping back to the bed so she can grind harder. “It’s on top of the fridge.”
She crashes down on me, her chest to mine as she pumps her hips.
I grip her ass in both hands. “You almost there?”
“Yeah.”
The headboard bangs against the wall, and my mouth falls open, knowing the whole house can hear that. But then her lips meet mine, and I forgot what I was going to say.
“He’s going to hear,” she whispers.
“I can’t care about that right now.” I hold her face, kissing, nibbling, and biting. “Come on. Ride me. Come on.”
Sweat breaks out on my forehead, a blaze flooding my stomach down low, and I jerk as she thrusts. I bury my nose and mouth behind her ear, inhaling her scent as I squeeze my eyes shut.
Oh, fuck. “Ugh,” I moan, the muscles inside me contracting, building, climbing, and then…pleasure floods my body, exploding with a wave of heat and her face blurs in front of me.
Her whimpers get louder and faster, and I feel every muscle in her body tense before she shudders and shakes in my arms.
And then she relaxes.
Her chest caves, and I gently cup a breast in one hand and a hip in the other. God, I wish I was inside of her.
Her breathing calms, her body melting into mine, and I pull out the vibrator, shutting it off. She shifts on top of me, and I wince, feeling the mess in my pants.
“Do you think he heard?” she asks.
I hold her head to my chest. “I’ll just tell him I was doing what I was told. Taking care of you,” I say.
She flashes me a smirk and climbs off, pulling the sheet up over her as she slips back into her shorts. I pick up her shirt, handing it to her. Pulling it on quickly, she sits up and leans on one arm, looking down at me.
I wait for her to say whatever it looks like she wants to say, but instead, she gazes around, taking in my room.
It’s not like my bedroom at home. Or the one I have at my grandfather’s house. I came here with one goal and didn’t invest in staying. No maps on the walls or terrariums on the dressers. No stacks of books on the floor or the model Zeppelin I built with my dad and Kade when I was seven. Just a desk, dresser, bed, chair, and closet. Sparse. Clean.
She scoots off the bed and rises to her feet. “Do you remember when you put all those bird feeders in your yard to study which food they preferred?”
Yeah. But I don’t answer out loud, just watch her as she inspects the receipts I dug out of my pocket and put on my dresser, along with the medical tape for football injuries.
She goes on, “And then you threw some small, leftover cuts of beef out there, and it attracted the wolves?” She smiles, glancing at me. “Your dad was so mad, but he was trying to hold it back because he didn’t want to dissuade your creative curiosity or something?”
I sit up, swinging my legs over the bed. I need another shower.
“Or that time you ran out to see the tornado?” she asks. “Or the CDs and mixtapes you used to make for me?”
I rub the back of my neck before tilting it hard to crack it. “Are you…” I clear my throat. “Are you feeling guilty about what we just did?” I ask her.
“No.”
“Then why…”
I fall silent, not wanting to ask why she’s bringing up the past, because she’s just going to ask why I never do. I don’t like to think about back then. I always felt bad. I was either enduring Kade or following her, and being myself never got me what I longed for. We just had a very good morning. Why does she want me to remember anything before now?
Maybe she just wants her friend back? Maybe she’s only here, naked on top of me a minute ago, because she misses how we used to be, and that’s all she really wants.
I’m not sure I can remember a time when all I wanted from her was friendship. I’ve always wanted more.
Standing up, I pull out fresh clothes to take into the bathroom with me.
“Constin was parked in front of your house,” I tell her. “Any idea what he wanted?”
“He knocked on the door and asked me to homecoming.”
I dart my gaze to hers. “And what did you say?”