Living with Her Ex-Boyfriend (The Loft Book 2)

by Noelle Adams

  This was always the part in the argument where they started screaming at each other.

  “Every once in a while, I am right, you know.”

  “I know.”

  He blinked. “You do?”

  “Yes, I do.” She sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping. “Of course you’re right about the room.”

  He blinked a few more times. “Wait a minute. What’s happening here?”

  She giggled and stepped over to twine her arms around him. “What’s happening is you’re right. This time. Don’t make me say it again.”

  He hugged her tightly, rocking her slightly in a sudden overload of feeling. “Michelle.”

  “That’s a better Michelle,” she whispered. “You can Michelle me in that way any time you want.”

  “Okay. I will.” He brushed a kiss into her hair. “Michelle.”

  “I just didn’t want the room to change.”

  “I know.”

  “But it’s already changed. And there’s no sense in living in an awkward room. We can change everything.”

  “Not everything.” His heart was racing again, for a different reason now.

  “Not everything,” she agreed. She pulled away and looked up at him, and for just a moment he was sure she’d pull his head down into a kiss.

  She didn’t though. She gave him a trembling smile and then walked into the kitchen.

  He followed her.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I could make something for us to eat.”

  “I can always eat. And I can also help you make it.”

  She slanted him a little smile. “Okay. What do you feel like?”

  She opened the refrigerator, and both of them stared into it. “Well?” she prompted.

  “Well what?” All he was thinking about was the scent of her, the softness of her, the down-deep sweetness of her. All of her within reach.

  “Well, what do you feel like?”

  Trying to distract himself from the waves of need crashing over him, he said, “I feel like you admitting that I was right again.”

  She gasped. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  She reached over to a counter to pick up a dishcloth. “Because I told you once, and I’m not going to feed your ego by telling you again.”

  “Just one more time.”

  “No.”

  “Just a quick one.”

  “No!” She was giggling and trying to look fierce at the same time. She snapped the dishcloth suddenly and swatted him on the butt with it.

  It didn’t hurt. Not even a little bit. But he stiffened in surprise.

  She was evidently even more surprised by what she’d done than he was. Her eyes got very big, and her mouth shaped an irresistible little O.

  “Did you just swat me with that thing?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

  He was doing his best not to laugh, but he knew she’d be able to see it in his eyes. “You didn’t mean it?”

  “I... Well, you were being...”

  He took a step closer to her. “I was being what?”

  She twisted the dishcloth in her hands, laughter and something else—something hungry, excited—glinting in her eyes. “You were being... obnoxious.”

  He took another step closer to her. “So you swatted me?”

  “Yes.” Her cheeks were deeply flushed, and her fast breathing made her firm breasts rise and fall tantalizingly. “I did.”

  “And what do you think I’m supposed to do to someone who swats me with a dishcloth?” Very slowly he reached over and took the towel out of her hands.

  The O of her mouth got even bigger, and when he twisted the towel in his hands, she grabbed the dishcloth back from him. When he reached out for it again, she squealed and ran.

  He chased her. Through the living room, down the hall, and into her bedroom.

  It had been their bedroom.

  Not very long ago.

  She was laughing and still squealing as he chased her onto the bed. She was trying to keep the dishcloth out of his reach, so they ended up having a wrestling match for possession of it. Her little body twisted and squirmed beneath him as she kept trying to hide the towel beneath her.

  The moment they ended up in bed together, Steve became instantly and achingly hard. And his arousal just intensified as she wriggled against him.

  They were playing, teasing. Having fun.

  There wasn’t any excuse for getting turned on like that. From nothing. From next to nothing.

  But he was. His erection was tight in his jeans, and he knew it wouldn’t take very long for her to notice it.

  She was laughing helplessly as he finally got his hands on the towel. They had a little tug-of-war until she loosened her grip, letting him take it at last.

  He reared up, partly to get his body away from her and partly because he suddenly felt like some sort of feral animal, needing to claim her.

  Make her his completely.

  She lay on her back, smiling and panting and not giggling anymore. Her smile faded into a different look. One that widened her eyes. Softened her mouth. Flushed her cheeks even more.

  He twisted the cloth in his hands to keep him from using his hands in another way.

  She hadn’t told him yet that they could be more than friends.

  He wasn’t going to do anything—anything—until she had.

  She didn’t say anything now. Just gazed up at him, slim and beautiful, soft and strong, brave and needy.

  He needed her.

  He had to have her.

  His whole body strained toward her—his hands, his hips, his dick, his heart.

  He leaped clumsily off the bed and took a couple of awkward steps away from it. His breath was coming out in loud, hoarse rasps.

  “Steve?” Michelle asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need— I’m sorry. I need to leave. I need...”

  God, he was pathetic.

  He’d never known he was capable of wanting someone so much.

  “Why?”

  “Because... unless...”

  “But I want it too.” She’d finally sat up, and her eyes were huge and deep in the brightly lit room. “I’m ready. It’s fine if you’re not ready yet. Or if you’ll never be ready. But I want to be with you again this way. If you want it too. But there’s no pressure.” She took a shaky breath. “No pressure.”

  His heart leaping up into his throat, he took four steps back to the bed to stand above her. “No shame,” he murmured. “I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

  He heard her take a quick intake of breath. “Good.” She was almost smiling again. “Me either.”

  It felt like he was treading water here, but she seemed to be in the same mood that he was. He didn’t want to assume exactly what she needed right now—whether she needed it rough or tender, wild or sweet and familiar. So he asked thickly, “So what do you want?”

  The corners of her lips turned down. “I just told you.”

  “I know what you told me, but I want to know more. Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you to... fuck me.”

  His groin throbbed dangerously at her whispered words. “I will. Is that all you want?” He’d thought he’d sensed something from her earlier, when they’d been wrestling on the bed. But he didn’t want to presume. Not about this.

  Her mouth fell open slightly, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.

  “Answer me, kitten,” he said.

  “I want you... I want you to...”

  “Say it.”

  “Spank me.”

  His whole body throbbed this time, and he saw her shifting her hips restlessly, so he knew she was just as turned on as he was.

  “Do you... do you want that too?” she asked when he hadn’t yet gotten a word out. “Because it’s fine if you don’t. We don’t have to. I don’t want this to be just about me.”

 
; “It’s never been just about you.” He took a deep breath, trying to control the storm of lust and excitement inside him so he could please her the way he wanted to. If he didn’t get it together soon, he would lose it. Right here. In his pants. Standing beside the bed. Before he’d even touched her. “Stand up, kitten.”

  She did as he said, anticipation evident in her eyes, in her stance.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  He watched as she slowly pulled off her T-shirt and then her socks and leggings. She stood in front of him in her white bra and panties, and nothing in the world had ever been more beautiful, more desirable.

  “Take all of it off,” he told her, his voice ridiculously hoarse.

  She reached behind her to remove her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her small breasts bounced a little with her motion. Her nipples were very tight.

  He made a throaty sound of approval, and she leaned over to pull off her underwear, leaving them in a twisted bunch on the floor.

  Then she was completely naked, and his eyes crawled up and down her body. His arousal ached, and he had to clench his hands at his side to keep him from reaching out for her.

  “What... what do you want me to do now?” she asked. Her voice was still barely more than a whisper, but it was obvious that this was what she wanted.

  For him to give her orders. For him to tell her what to do.

  She never would have accepted it from him outside the bedroom. But here. Now. This was turning her on as much as it was him.

  “Bend down over the dresser.”

  He saw the flare of eager excitement on her face before she turned to do what he said.

  His little kitten.

  This incredible, sexy woman.

  When she had gotten into position, he made her wait for a couple of minutes. He knew she was liking it because she occasionally wriggled slightly and whimpered softly.

  Finally he walked over to stand behind her. He stared down at her round, firm bottom and had to fight against another sudden surge of need.

  He gently pulled her hair together, drawing it back from her face and over the opposite shoulder. Her head was turned, her cheek pressed against the hard surface of the dresser.

  “Are you ready?” he asked her.

  “Yes. Please.”

  “If you say the word stop, I’m going to stop.”

  “I understand. Thank you.”

  He slowly caressed his way down her back until he’d reached her ass. He rubbed it with leisurely attention until she was hissing, “Please, please, please.”

  He gave her butt a gentle smack, and she cried out sharply.

  He rubbed the spot he’d marked. “How was that?”

  “Good. I need more. Please more.”

  He spanked her again, and her whole body jerked in response.

  “Again,” she said.

  He moved a hand between her legs and stroked her open with his fingers. She was incredibly wet. Implausibly so. He couldn’t believe how turned on she already was. She moaned as he stroked her, but he didn’t penetrate her or rub her clit.

  Then he gave her another little smack.

  She was gripping the far end of the dresser, already mumbling out pleas for more.

  He spanked her three more times in quick succession, and she was almost sobbing after the last one.

  “Have you been needing this?” he asked, sliding his hands back up to her back and massaging her there to give her a break.

  She didn’t seem to want a break. Her bottom kept lifting, as if she were looking for more. But she replied to his question, “Yes. I’ve been needing this. Badly.”

  “Have you been thinking about it.”

  “Yes. Every night. I get so turned on thinking about you doing this to me.”

  His head and chest and groin were all throbbing, and he moved one hand down and held it still on one side of her ass. “Do you touch yourself as you think about it?”

  “Yes. Yes. Every night.” She whimpered as he kept his hand still. “Please. I haven’t had enough yet.”

  He spanked her again, this time sustaining a steady rhythm. She moved with it, rocking her hips up toward his hand. She was loud and nakedly needy, begging him for more.

  When her butt was red and hot, he stopped and rubbed it gently again. She was limp and gasping, still clinging to the dresser.

  “Now what do you want?” he asked.

  “I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me. Please, Steve. Please.”

  With a throaty sound of approval, he was finally able to undo his jeans and push them down with his underwear until he’d freed his erection. Then he pulled her butt cheeks apart and lifted her hips enough to align himself at her entrance.

  She cried out loudly as he entered her and kept crying out as he started to thrust.

  “More. Harder. Please, Steve.”

  He took her exactly as she wanted, as he needed, feeling fierce and powerful and tender and finally—finally—at home.

  He’d never experienced anything like it. As if all the twists and turns of his whole life had culminated right here.

  In this moment.

  With her.

  “Lift your shoulders up,” he told her, his hips slapping against her ass as they moved together.

  She did as he said immediately, raising her upper body on her arms. Her head lifted to, and he saw her looking into the mirror the way he had been doing earlier.

  He saw what she was seeing. Her naked body, breasts bouncing with their urgent motion, her red face twisting with pleasure.

  “Do you see yourself?” he asked. “Do you see the woman you really are?”

  She was nodding and grunting and opening her eyes every time they fell closed. “Yes. Yes. God, yes.”

  “Now look at me.”

  Her eyes lifted to his face behind her. He was just as red and urgent and hungry as she was, and he knew she’d be able to see it.

  “What do you see?” he asked. He hadn’t slowed his motion.

  “Y-you.”

  “What about me?”

  “You... you want this too.”

  “Yes,” he breathed, rolling his hips as he moved. “I want this too, kitten. I want it just as much as you. This is the man I am. It’s never been just about you.”

  She came then. He saw it on her face, felt it in the tightening of her body. She shook and sobbed and rode out the pleasure with her hips.

  Then he pulled out and turned her around, propping her on the dresser and wrapping her legs around him as he entered her again.

  Then he kissed her as he took her again. She kissed him back, holding him tightly, tears streaming down her face.

  He let himself go then, pushing into her until the last thread of his control snapped. He jerked and moaned and held on to her as he emptied himself, filled her, gave her everything.

  They clung to each other as their bodies relaxed, and when her body had softened enough, he carried her over to the bed and wrapped himself up in her.

  “Michelle,” he breathed when he was finally able to speak.

  “Steve,” she said back to him.

  It was all they needed to say.

  Ten

  MICHELLE WOKE UP THE next morning with the immediate sense that something good was happening.

  She hadn’t woken up enough to know exactly what, but she was brimming with anticipation before she’d even opened her eyes—the way she used to feel on Christmas morning.

  When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Steve sleeping beside her. She still hadn’t oriented herself, so she hadn’t processed the significance.

  It just felt natural. For Steve to be with her in bed. His arm bent up over his head, and his mouth open just slightly. He was breathing slowly, deeply. He was definitely still asleep. His chest was bare, but she knew he’d have on a pair of flannel pajama pants. He wore them even in the middle of summer.

  She smiled at the sight of him, and then the previous day suddenly came rushing
back to her.

  They’d had sex. Amazing sex. Mind-blowing sex that was about far more than the physical sensations.

  They’d dozed in bed together for a while afterward. Gotten up to get something to eat since they hadn’t had any dinner. Then they’d gotten ready for bed and watched TV together in bed before they’d gone back to sleep.

  Steve hadn’t pushed for a conversation, which Michelle had been relieved about.

  She still didn’t know exactly what was happening here except she was ready to be with Steve again.

  And he evidently still wanted to be with her too.

  They’d gotten into an argument the day before, and they hadn’t started screaming at each other.

  Something important had changed.

  They’d changed. Both of them.

  She was smiling at him sappily when he started to shift and then opened his eyes. He blinked a few times and gave her a groggy smile when he saw her. “Hey, kitten.”

  “Hey.”

  He reached out for her, still barely awake, and she pressed herself against his side, snuggling up against him. He exhaled deeply as she stroked the (mostly) firm flesh of his stomach. She found some extra softness at his side and squeezed him there.

  “I’m working on it,” he grumbled. “Damn Lucas never lets up in the gym.”

  She giggled. “Don’t work out too much. I like your love handles.”

  “Is that what they are?”

  “Aren’t they?”

  “I guess so.” He sighed again. “It’s Monday morning.”

  “I know. I have to go into class, and then I have a shift at Tea for Two after lunch. It’s going to be a long day.”

  “How late do you work?”

  “Until nine.”

  “Damn. Would you mind if I come in after work and get something to eat?”

  “I thought Tea for Two is too girly for you.”

  “I don’t really care about that. Not if it means I get to see you before nine.”

  She smiled and pressed a soft kiss on his chest.

  “So do you mind?” he prompted.

  “No. I don’t mind.”

  “Good.” He adjusted his position slightly, but he didn’t let go of her. “What time is it anyway?”

  “It’s early. Not even six thirty yet.”

  “Thank God. I don’t have to get up yet.” He tilted his head down to brush a kiss against her hair. “How do you feel this morning?”