Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
As tired as I am, there’s no fighting the urge to press my thighs together.
“Your bed’s big enough.” I swallow hard. “We can share it, if you want.”
The light from the bedside lamp bathes half his face in gold, leaving the other half shadowed. Normally I’d find it unsettling to have a man towering over me like this, but Cal isn’t just any man. He’s the man who took me in when I had nowhere else to go. The man who saved me. I trusted him last night, and I trust him now.
“Bed’s all yours, sweetheart,” he says. “Don’t worry about me.”
Anxiety bubbles inside me. He thinks I’m just being polite, but I’m not asking out of politeness. I’m asking because I want him to sleep beside me. More than that, I want him to hold me like he did last night. Stroking my back and kissing my forehead, telling me everything’s going to be all right.
He turns to leave.
“Cal?” I sit up straight. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
Awareness flickers in his gaze, along with an intensity that makes my nipples harden.
“You want me to sleep with you?”
I nod. “Please.”
He combs a hand through his hair, then lays the pillow he’s holding back in its rightful place.
“All right,” he says. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”
I sigh, relieved. “Thank you.”
Cal turns the light off and then goes, closing the door behind him. I scoot toward the wall so he doesn’t have to climb over me when he’s ready to go to sleep. Knowing he’s coming back is comfort enough that I’m able to relax.
My mind drifts. I picture him in his office, doing whatever it is cops do at their desks. I picture his impersonal living room, with no art or pictures on the walls, and the cardboard boxes in the corner. Judging by the mountain of groceries he bought today, he probably makes decent money. He could have a beautiful home if he wanted one. So why hasn’t he bothered to make this place feel like a home?
From what I can tell, his apartment is just a holding pen for his things. His real life is on the job, at the station or undercover, catching bad guys.
It takes a few minutes, but soon I fall into an unusually restful sleep. I dream Kenzie and I are at the motel, watching TV like always, eating popcorn, laughing. She gets up to go to the bathroom, and doesn’t come back.
I knock on the door, but she doesn’t answer. I check inside but she’s not there. She’s vanished.
When I wake, Cal’s bedroom is still dark and the bed is empty beside me.
I roll onto my side and try to forget my dream so I can fall back to sleep, but my mind won’t stop spinning. Part of me feels like I should be out there searching for Kenzie. But part of me also knows that Cal’s right. I can’t help my friend if I’m too exhausted to think. Plus, that terrifying driver might still be looking for me.
I hold my kitten close and plunder my brain for anything useful Kenzie might’ve said about Steph when I was distracted. Nothing new jumps out. I shift onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Eventually, my mind wanders back to the party. How anxious I felt, and how easily Cal was able to comfort me.
What’s strange is that, even though we were at a sex party, sitting on Cal’s lap didn’t feel overtly sexual at the time. It felt sweet, comforting. But looking back, I can’t help picturing how things might’ve gone differently had I guided his hand between my legs.
Tension pools in the cradle of my pelvis. I press a hand to my mound through my underwear.
Cal says he doesn’t want anything from me in exchange for letting me stay here. I wish he did want something. I wish he wanted everything.
I whimper as I rub myself. I shouldn’t be doing this. Cal might hear me. But my body’s wound so tightly, I won’t be able to go back to sleep unless I release the tension. Usually, I have to settle for masturbating in the shower because it feels too awkward to do it with Kenzie in the next bed.
I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. If I hurry, I can squeeze in an orgasm before Cal comes back, just to help me relax enough to pass out again.
Eyes closed, I imagine Cal’s hands where mine are now, cupping my breasts through my shirt. My nipples push at the fabric, begging to be played with. I comply, gathering my shirt high to bare them.
It’s been a long time since I had the freedom to just lie back and feel myself up. My own touch is almost too much at first, my skin too sensitive. Knowing I’m touching myself in Cal’s bed gives the moment a special kind of thrill. Like I’m breaking a rule.