Love Me Like You Do: Books That Keep You In Bed

by Fields, MJ

  Yes, I want him. Then again, he was an asshole. Maybe I need to stand up for myself. It’s a bit late, but an idea takes shape in my head.

  “Ready for more?” His voice is rough.

  He takes my hand, trailing it down his muscled abs and down to his heavy cock. I want it badly, but my self-esteem has other plans.

  I smile. “No, I don’t think so.” I quickly let go of his hot length before I change my mind.

  “Huh?” He rolls onto his side, propping up on an elbow.

  My eyes move to his gorgeous, wide chest, and I swallow, telling my body to shut up. Intelligent Lauren is in control right now and will take the reins.

  “Sorry, but no.” Taking a look at my nails, I see a chip.

  “Why’s that?”

  I turn back to him. His gorgeous hazel eyes look confused.

  I huff. “You were mean last night and on the boat today.” I drop my hand to my side.

  “Mean?” he repeats, lowering his head.

  “Yes,” I huff. “I’m a lot of things, but I won’t be treated like shit by you. I’ve gone down that road before with other guys, and I don’t want to do it again. You aren’t long-term, and I’m not trying to find love with you either. If I don’t want something, I’m saying no.”

  “First off, you should always say no if you don’t want something. But are you sure you don’t want me?” The look of confusion on his face intensifies.

  “Well, no, I don’t. I mean, I do want you, but I’m still mad.”

  “What does mad have to do with us right now?” He scans me up and down. “You can be mad, and we can still—”

  “It means that I’m finally doing what’s right for myself and not putting a man first. I’m not going to pacify you to keep your feathers smooth.”

  “But you were mad before, right? And we still—”

  “Yes, we did. But, now, I’ve changed my mind.” Do I sound wishy-washy? Sure. I sit up, touching the back of my matted hair. Must have gotten tangled from rubbing up and down against the wall. Under normal circumstances, I’d comb my fingers through the strands, making sure to smooth it out before he saw. But I’m not playing that game—not anymore and not with Slade. If he doesn’t like my crazy hair, he can go elsewhere. I smile, liking this new development. Maybe there’s some merit to this no-possible-future thing. I can finally just be myself and do what I want without worry.

  He puts his hand on my back, and I pause.

  “You’re sexy as fuck. Now, stop being a baby and get your fine ass over here. What’s right is for you to have another orgasm.”

  “That might be true but not right now. The answer is no. You made me feel inferior, and I’m not.”

  I cross my arms below my breasts, and his eyes move straight to my lifted cleavage. Quickly, I drop my hands and pull up the sheets for cover. For the record, it isn’t easy to be haughty in the nude.

  “You’re beautiful inside and out, Lauren, okay? That’s the truth. The shit I said out of anger wasn’t truth.”

  “Luckily, I don’t need you to explain that to me. I know who I am, Slade.”

  “Yes, I know that. But I know who you are, too.”

  I clear my throat, trying not to let his kind words affect me. “Yes, you apologized. And I appreciate the clarification. But that doesn’t mean I have to forget it. By the way, thank you for giving me the best orgasm of my life. I appreciate it.”

  Off the bed I go, strutting into the bathroom, naked, as his perfectly chiseled jaw drops. For the first time in a long time, I’m proud of myself.

  A few hours later, we’re both showered and well-fed, courtesy of room service. We ate quietly, but the silence wasn’t antagonistic. It felt like he was giving me space, which I needed.

  Cozy in my soft, blue cotton pajamas with white lace piping, I have no choice but to keep my eyes averted from Slade. If I look at him, I might jump his bones. He’s wearing nothing other than a snug white T-shirt and beaten-in jeans, typing away on his laptop and checking in with work while sitting casually at the desk in the room. Okay, fine, I’m staring. But I’m really good at not letting him see—I think.

  “You think I’m blind?”

  “Hmm?” I lift my head from the new book I’m reading from Leigh Ford, acting like he just interrupted me in the midst of a chapter. I typically can’t tear my eyes away from her romances, but Slade is giving me a run for my attention.

  He moves next to me, massaging the top of my thigh. “Have you cooled off some?”

  I can’t look at him. “Mmhmm. I’m all good.”

  “Lauren,” he starts, tearing the Kindle from my hands, “what the hell happened here? It’s just us. Let’s have fun with the time we’ve got. I know you wanted to show me you aren’t some pushover. But the thing is, I know you’re not.”

  I sigh, finally looking at gorgeous eyes. There are about a million things I want him to do to me. And we’ve only got so much time to work it all out.

  “Feel like brewing me a cup of decaf?” I finally ask, unable to stop my smile. I swear, all the man has to do is look at me.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winks before jumping off the bed and stepping to the fancy coffeemaker on top of the dresser.

  Minutes later, two white mugs are filled with a dark roast. Slade brings them to our small balcony, and I follow him outside. It’s pitch-black but incredibly soothing.

  “What drives you?” I lift the hot cup to my mouth and take a sip, curling my legs beneath my butt. “I mean, what gave you the strength to be a Navy SEAL?”

  “It’s always been about achievement. I think we’re all able to accomplish anything we set our sights on, and limits are simply a game our minds play. Limits are excuses. I like to test those limits and break them. Our internal dialogue makes or breaks our success in war.”

  “War is chaos,” I add.

  “Yet someone’s gotta fight them,” he replies simply.

  “But why? Why can’t we all just live in peace?”

  “War is good sometimes. We can all live in peace, but that might mean our country is turning a blind eye to atrocities. Would you rather have lived in alleged peace while the Nazis killed millions of Jews? Would you rather have fought no war but had African Americans still enslaved? War is necessary.”

  “But the youth! War kills future generations. Sometimes, once war is opened, it’s like a terrible can of never-ending filth. It takes a toll.”

  “War is just a means to an end, Lauren. It’s a tool,” he interrupts.

  “So, are you the tool they use? The government has you risking your life to achieve its politics abroad.”

  “Yes. That’s right. But you can’t imagine the shit people eat in other countries. You talk like you think everyone is living in la-la land, and we, the United States of America, waltz in where we’re not invited. You don’t realize that there are children scavenging for food and eating from the trash due to oppressive governments that don’t give a shit about the people so long as their own pockets are lined. Fathers selling their daughters into marriage. Brothers who, after hearing of their sister’s rape, will pour acid on her face. Do you realize that, in Afghanistan, ninety percent of women don’t leave their homes? When they wear a burka, they essentially turn themselves invisible. These women are controlled by men. Sure, the men are happy—because they’re in complete control. And lots of women don’t know better. How can they? They can’t imagine a better life when even the television stations are controlled by their government.”

  “You have to respect the choices of these women.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Women in those countries don’t get a choice. You’re viewing their life through an American lens, which is a mistake.”

  “Getting involved hasn’t always worked. I mean, look at what Jimmy Carter did in Iran. The fall of Shah Pahlavi put the entire Middle East in flux. The shah’s government was secular and pro-Western, not Communist.”

  “Disaster of an administration. Absolute disaster.” He sha
kes his head in disgust.

  “So, are we supposed to just go with the whims of these politicians? What if they’re wrong?”

  “Yes, that’s a risk. But what about all the amazing things that happened for women here in the USA due to the fact that the men were off fighting? Women finally left home and entered the workforce.”

  “Yeah, but that’s over now.”

  “Is it?”

  “We don’t need our men off at war to finally be able to be independent.”

  “Yes, but we did initially. So, war has had benefits both here and abroad. I mean, war has helped pull us out of recessions.”

  “I’m not going to agree with you. I mean, I’ll always support our troops. God bless you guys for going out and fighting for our freedom. But that doesn’t mean I agree with sending you all off in the first place. Especially under a regime that Americans do not understand. You can’t walk into the Middle East and say, Voilà, welcome to democracy! The people are so far from that, they wouldn’t know what to do to handle the freedom.”

  A few beats pass in silence. I want to say something to soften our conversation.

  “More coffee?” My voice is hesitant.

  He chuckles, and I sigh from relief.

  “Nah, let’s go inside. You must be getting cold.”

  We brush our teeth side by side. Staring at our reflections in the mirror, I see how physically opposite we are. He’s huge, whereas I’m on the smaller side of average. He’s white and all-American with those hazel-green eyes and buzzed hair, whereas I’m of Middle Eastern descent. My hair at the roots is black as night, and my eyes are a warm brown with golden flecks. Still, we look good. Really, really good actually.

  He smiles at me through the mirror. “You’re gorgeous.” He spits into the sink before turning on the faucet.

  I roll my eyes, wanting to tell him that he’s the hot one. But the man doesn’t need anything more to feed his ego, so I just shrug. “Thank you.”

  I climb into my bed as Slade sifts through his small duffel, pulling out a little bag before taking it into the bathroom. I want to ask what he’s doing, but that would be overstepping. He’s got a thick red line, and the last thing I want to do is cross it. We seem to have a good thing going, and I don’t want to ruin it.

  A few moments later, he returns, sitting in his own bed without a shirt and nothing other than boxer briefs. I do my best not to ogle.

  “You should be proud of yourself, Lauren.” He leans back onto the bed. “After the shooting, you had a rough few days. But, now, look at you.”

  He flips off the light by his bedside, but I can still feel his gaze in the dark.

  “You decided you would be okay; that’s internal dialogue. You told yourself you would be all right, and now, you are. You sleep well. You eat well. You’re smiling and laughing. Sure, what happened might have shifted your perspective on some things. But you’re okay.” His words fill up this spot in my chest I never knew was empty.

  “Are you saying I’m … strong?” My voice comes out more upbeat than I intended.

  He chuckles. “I am. You have more mental toughness in you than you let on. I see it though.”

  “Th-thank you. I appreciate that.” My heart thumps.

  “Well, I, for one, would never want to cut you in line for a sale at … Prada—or wherever it is you shop. You’d probably smack me upside the head for taking the last size seven shoe.”

  “Oh,” I exclaim, unable to stop myself from laughing. I won’t fill him in on the time I did, in fact, get into a fight with another woman over the last pair of red Louboutin heels, which are now sitting pretty in my closet. “What can I say? I play to win.”

  “Is there another way to play?” I swear, I can feel his smile as he says, “Good night, Lauren.”

  “Slade?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We head back tomorrow.”

  “Yep.”

  “We’ll continue this, right?” I cross my fingers beneath the covers.

  “If you want, yeah.” He pauses. “Just till you go.”

  I want him now. Badly. “You have condoms?” My voice squeaks, as I’m nervous to initiate. But, after the stunt I pulled, I have to assume he’s waiting for me to reopen the door.

  “Fuck yeah, I do.” Jumping out of bed, he rifles through his things, pulling out a pack. “Now, take off your clothes and spread your legs for me how I like.”

  I quickly strip off my pajamas, doing as he said.

  “That’s right. How I like it, Lauren.” He walks toward me like a predator, abs flexing with his steps.

  I swallow hard, doing as he asked. My hands shake, but I’ve never been so wet before in all my life.

  Twelve

  Slade

  “Ugh, I hate listening to nineties grunge.” She clicks her tongue. “If I hear ‘Black Hole Sun’ one more time …” Her voice trails off.

  I chuckle. She thinks she’s being coy as she shadily taps the volume on my phone, trying to lower it.

  I glare as though I just caught her in the act, and she lifts her hands in mock surrender.

  “I get it, okay?” Her leg bounces up and down. “Don’t need Mr. Built Like A House getting angry with me; that’s for sure.”

  She tries to hold back a smile, and I laugh.

  “Well, get used to the music. My car, my rules. And we’ve got another forty-five minutes of nineties grunge I plan on playing.”

  “Great,” she replies sarcastically. Her arms angrily cross in front of her chest. “It’s not really your car though,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “I’m the one who signed for the rental, so technically, it’s mine for now.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  Vincent and Eve wanted to stop somewhere using the plane, so Lauren and I decided to drive our way back to Nevada. With the windows of the 4Runner down, her long hair blows behind her. I can faintly smell her, vanilla and citrus and something else I can’t name but drives me insane with want. She keeps trying to tame the silky gold strands with her hands, but it’s not working. I love ruffling her feathers. She’s even hotter when she’s angry or annoyed.

  A red-and-yellow sign for fast food shows up ahead. With my stomach growling, I put on my blinker and move to the right lane to exit.

  Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit” begins when I pull into the drive-through. Ordering half the menu, we get our food and park.

  The paper bag crinkles as I stick my hand inside, pulling everything out. “Your side salad and Diet Coke.”

  She grudgingly takes it from my hands. I took the liberty of ordering her a chicken sandwich and two more burgers. I know she likes to eat well and clean, but once in a blue moon, enjoying food is all right, too.

  I unwrap the foil. “Have some of my burger.” I take a bite and lift it toward her.

  She adamantly shakes her head. “No.” Her eyes are both hesitant and full of longing.

  “Come on. It’s so good. I eat it and still maintain my figure.” I shrug, taking another huge bite.

  Her eyes follow the food as it enters my mouth. She licks her lips.

  “Fine. Give it.” Eyes widening at first, she moves closer to me. Shutting them, as though she can’t bear to look, she opens her mouth and bites. “Mmm,” she moans. “So good.”

  When she’s done chewing, I hand it to her. “Please. Eat the rest,” I beg. “But only if you keep moaning like that with every bite.”

  She giggles. “Oh, Slade.” She takes another. “This meat.” Her eyes move from the food to my dick, and I start to laugh. “Just want a taste …” she sings, licking her lips.

  “That’s it, Lauren. You’ve really gone and done it now.” I unclick my belt and grab her by the ass, dragging her onto me.

  “We’re doing this? In a fast-food parking lot?”

  “You bet we are.”

  “Fine, but only if you’ll buy me another burger when we’re through. Now that I’ve committed, I don’t want to eat it cold.”

&nb
sp; I drag her hand into my pants, and she grips the base of my cock.

  “See?” I ask, voice strangled. “Still hot.” I tickle her ribs, getting a roar of laughter. “I already got extras, you crazy little thing.”

  Her lips press against mine, and I sigh into her mouth. I only had to take a few pills today. Less than usual.

  Maybe being with Lauren is enough.

  “We’re finally back!” she squeals, unable to hide her excitement as we pull into the lot of the Mile. “If I never have to listen to your music again, it won’t be too soon.”

  She gives me a classic Lauren eye roll, and I laugh.

  For the millionth time, I scan her amazing body, focusing on her gorgeous tits encased in a blue spandex top. Our trip should have taken roughly half the time. But, after fucking in the backseat like teenagers, we each ate our weight in hot burgers and washed it all down with icy milkshakes. I can’t even remember the last time I had this much fun.

  After parking my truck in the hotel’s lot, I help her out of the car.

  “You don’t have to help me. They have someone at the front.” She drops her head, as though she’s suddenly gotten shy.

  “Nope. I’ve got you.” Next, I pull her suitcase from the backseat and carry it to the front door.

  “You know it’s on wheels, right? You don’t have to hold it.”

  I smirk. “Guess I’m just strong like that.”

  “Or you didn’t know it had wheels,” she sasses back.

  We strut through the hotel lobby. The concierges all wave to me, and I nod in return.

  “Everyone seems to like you, huh? Not sure what the hell they’re thinking …” She pinches my side, but I don’t pause.

  “Maybe they’re thinking you and I just—”

  She jumps to her tiptoes, throwing her hand over my mouth. “Can you stop doing that?”

  “I love embarrassing you,” I say into her hand. She lifts it from my mouth. “So cute how you get so scared. Sorry to break it to you, Lauren, but with the way you’re always looking at me, with those wide brown eyes, they all know we’re doing it.”

  “Doing it? What are you, a teenager?”