Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5)

by Colleen Hoover

  I hold up two fingers. “It was twice, actually.”

  She makes a face that lets me know just how much I’m irritating her. “I’m serious, Warren. We’re not doing it again.”

  “Thank God,” I say, slowly stepping toward her. “Because it was awful, wasn’t it? I could tell you weren’t enjoying it.” I continue across the kitchen until I’m less than a foot from touching her. “You especially weren’t enjoying the part when you were on your back, and my tongue was . . .”

  She slaps her hand over my mouth to shut me up. She’s looking at me, narrow-eyed. “I’m serious, Warren. This changes nothing. We aren’t a couple. In fact, I’ll probably bring other guys home and you need to be prepared for that.”

  She removes her hand from my mouth and I disagree. “You will not.”

  She looks at me with a competitive gleam in her eyes. “I will. This is why I warned you not to get clingy.”

  Ha. She thinks this is clingy? If she smiles and laughs like she did last night, she’ll find out just how clingy I can be.

  “If you don’t want me to want you anymore, it’s not that hard,” I tell her. “Just don’t smile at me.” I lean forward until my lips are at her ear. “If you don’t smile at me, I won’t have the urge to do all those bad things to you. Because your smile is incredible, Bridgette.”

  I pull away slowly and look down at her. She’s attempting to control the rise and fall of her chest, but she’s not fooling me. I grin, and the faintest of smiles appears on her lips. I reach my hand up and touch the corner of her mouth with my finger. “You’re such a tease.”

  She pulls away from me and calmly pushes against my chest. She grabs her drink and returns to her bedroom without another word.

  I press my head against the cabinet door and sigh heavily. What have I done? What in God’s name have I done to myself?

  • • •

  Bridgette and I both had the day off today, and I was positive that after our interaction this morning, and especially after last night, that she’d be all over me by nightfall. However, she completely ignored me. She stayed in her room most of the day, and she wouldn’t even acknowledge me. Now it’s after eleven at night. I have to be at work tomorrow morning, and I know she has an early class, so my hope for a round three is swiftly dwindling.

  She even locked the door when she took a shower earlier.

  I sit on the edge of my bed and contemplate the night before, going over every single move in my head, wondering where I went wrong. The only thing I can conclude is that I did nothing wrong. I did everything right, and this scared her, because she’s not used to guys taking control over her. I made her feel weak.

  She doesn’t like to feel weak. She obviously has serious power issues and I messed with her head. This should probably make me feel guilty, but actually I’m proud. I love that I got to her. I love that I’m slowly figuring her out. And the best part is, I have a feeling that she’ll be coming back for a repeat. Maybe not tonight, but she’ll be back, because she’s human. Every human has a weakness and I think I just discovered what hers is.

  Me.

  I crawl under the covers and close my eyes, but I can already tell I won’t be able to sleep. It’s as if last night awakened this hunger inside of me and if I don’t feed it every night before I go to bed, I’ll never fall asleep. I count sheep, I count stars, I repeat Bible verses in my head that I learned when I was five. None of it works, because I’m still here an hour later and I’m still wide awake.

  I wonder if she’s awake.

  I wonder if she would open her door if I knocked.

  I toss the covers off and begin to walk to my door, but immediately U-turn to the nightstand for a condom. All I have on are boxers, so I slip it beneath the elastic band and open my bedroom door.

  Boobs.

  Her boobs.

  They’re right here.

  Her hand is in the air, poised to knock on my door. She looks just as shocked that I opened it as I am that she’s standing here. She’s wearing a black lace bra and the tiniest pair of panties I’ve ever seen in my life. She lowers her arm and we stare at each other for a solid five seconds before I’m pulling her inside, slamming my door and pushing her up against it. Her tongue is in my mouth faster than I can slip my hand beneath her bra.

  “Is this what you sleep in?” I say against her mouth, pulling the straps of her bra down.

  “Yes,” she says breathlessly. She tilts her head and pushes my face against her neck. “But sometimes I sleep naked.”

  I groan and press myself against her, ready to sink myself inside of her. “I like it.” I spin her around until her chest is pressed against the door and her back is to me. I wrap my arm around her and grab one of her breasts while I slide my other hand down to her ass. She’s in a thong. A teeny, tiny, black, lacy, beautiful thong. I rub my hand over her and then slip my fingers beneath the thin veil of fabric, pulling it down to her knees. I watch as her thong falls to her ankles and she kicks it aside.

  I position myself directly behind her and run my hands down her back and to her waist. “Put your palms against the door.”

  She doesn’t move them right away. I can feel her hesitation. I’m sure she doesn’t want to hand over control again, but she needs to realize she lost control the second she showed up at my bedroom door.

  I watch as she slowly presses her palms against my bedroom door. I lean forward and brush her hair away from her neck, dropping it over her shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper against her neck. I pull her hips until she’s flush against me, and then I remove my boxers and open the condom.

  “Bend over a little more,” I tell her.

  She does. She’s such a fast learner.

  I wrap my fingers in her hair and twist my hand around until I have a fistful of it, and then I tug just enough to get her to lift her face. She whimpers when I do this, and that little whimper is all it takes for me to push into her, as far as I can go until she’s completely full.

  “Make that sound again,” I whisper.

  She doesn’t, so I tug at her hair. The noise escapes her throat and it’s so beautiful and full of desire. I pull out and push back into her, and the same sound passes her lips. I can’t take it. I don’t know if I can do this standing up, because that sound is making me dizzy.

  I cover one of her hands with mine and squeeze, giving myself the wall support I need to continue moving in and out of her. Every time she whimpers, I push into her a little bit harder. She begins to whimper, over and over, occasionally replacing that sound with my name, and I already know I’m gonna sleep like a rock tonight.

  Right when I feel myself growing close to release, I pull out of her and reposition her so that her back is against the door. I lift her legs and wrap them around my waist, sliding back inside of her with ease. I keep one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her up and my other hand pressed against the door for support. My tongue is fighting hers, and I’m swallowing every sound she’s willing to give me.

  Her hands are gripping my neck, so I reach behind me and pull one of her hands away. I press her palm against her chest and slide it slowly down her stomach. My forehead meets hers, and I look her hard in the eyes. “Touch yourself.”

  Her eyes grow wide, and she begins to shake her head. I place my hand on top of hers and I look down at where are bodies join together. I move her hand a few more inches until her fingers are right where I want them. “Please,” I breathe out, desperately.

  I need my hand for support, so I pull it away and press it against the door beside her head. I’m still holding her around the waist with my other arm and slowly pushing in and out of her. Our foreheads are still pressed together, but now my eyes are planted on her hand as she timidly begins to move her fingers in a slow, circular motion.

  “Holy shit,” I exhale. I watch her for a minute longer, until she starts to relax agai
nst her hand, and then I move my eyes back to her face. I pull away and stare down at her, watching as her head falls back against the door. Her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted and all I can feel in my heart is kiss her, kiss her.

  My lips come down gently against hers and she moans softly into my mouth. I tease her lips with the tip of my tongue, sliding it across her top lip and then her bottom. Her moans are becoming more frequent, and the more I press her against the door, the better I can feel her hand moving between us.

  I can’t believe this is real life. I can’t believe she lives five feet away from me and she’s willing to give me this part of her. I’m the luckiest man in the world.

  She starts to whimper again, but this time my mouth is resting against hers and I take in every single one of the sounds she makes. She tilts her face more and more to mine, wanting me to kiss her hard, but I’m enjoying this too much. I love the way she looks right now, eyes closed, mouth open, heart exposed. I don’t want to kiss her. I want to keep my eyes open and watch every second of this.

  I stop moving inside of her and wait for her to finish, because if I keep moving, I won’t last another second. She begins to open her eyes, wondering why I stopped, so I lean in to her ear. “You’re almost there,” I whisper. “I just want to watch you.”

  She relaxes again and I continue to watch her, soaking up every whimper and every moan and every movement she makes like I’m a sponge and she’s my water.

  As soon as her legs begin to tighten around my waist, I grip her hips with both hands and resume moving inside of her. Her whimpers turn into moans, and her moans turn into my name and it takes us all of ten seconds before we’re both shaking and gasping for breath and kissing and groping and then finally, sighing.

  Her body weakens in my arms and she lays her head against my chest. I bring my hand up to her neck and kiss her softly on top of the head.

  After a solid minute of working to catch our breath and regain the ability to move, I slowly begin to pull out of her. She lowers her feet to the floor and looks up at me. She’s not smiling, but I can see the calmness behind her eyes. This was exactly what she needed. Exactly what I needed.

  “Thank you,” she says, matter-of-factly.

  I grin. “You’re welcome.”

  She ducks her head as soon as she begins to smile, and slips under my arm. She enters the bathroom and closes the door behind her. I lean against the wall and slide down to the floor, completely unable to will my legs to make it back to the bed. If I didn’t have to wait on her to finish in the bathroom, I’d fall asleep right here on the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  Three solid weeks.

  Twenty-one nights.

  Over thirty times we’ve had sex.

  Absolutely zero interaction during the day.

  I don’t really understand her. I don’t know her well enough to know what sets her off or, in turn, what makes her so quiet. I don’t know why she refuses to treat what’s going on between us like it’s anything remotely significant, but I’m not complaining. I mean, come on. We have sex every night and I don’t have to dote on her during the day. I would have the perfect setup if I didn’t want just a little bit more from her. But until I can get to another level with Bridgette, I know nothing better come in between us. Especially a new roommate, which is what I’m afraid might happen. Brennan has officially gone on tour and moved out, which means his room is now up for grabs. I can’t take the idea of Bridgette’s sister moving in, which is something I’ve heard them discussing on the phone. I don’t know what or whom Ridge has in mind, but I for sure don’t think I can take the possibility of another guy moving in. As much as I want to pretend I’m as casual with this arrangement as Bridgette is, if another guy even looks at her ass in those shorts, I won’t be able to refrain from beating his ass. And I’m not even the type of guy who fights other guys, but Bridgette makes me want to fight everyone. Even the nerdy guys. I’ll hit all the humans if it means keeping up the arrangement I’ve got going with her.

  Which is why I can’t stop staring at the couch right now. There’s a person on it. I think it’s a girl, because I see blond hair peeking out from under the pillow pulled over her face, but it could be a long-haired guy. A guy I don’t want to be our next roommate. I continue to watch the couch, waiting for the person to wake up. I’m loud enough in the kitchen to wake up the whole apartment, but whoever is on this couch is sleeping like a rock.

  I finish pouring my bowl of cereal and bring it into the living room. Since whoever this is has decided to take up residence where I eat breakfast, I take a seat on the floor, right in front of the couch. I begin eating, crunching as loud as I can.

  I wonder if she or he is a friend of Bridgette’s.

  No, Bridgette didn’t bring anyone home last night. I know this because I picked her up after I got off work and we came straight home and went straight to my bed. Come to think of it, we didn’t even turn on the living room lights, so I’m pretty sure whoever this is was probably on the couch last night, we just didn’t notice.

  Oh, man. I wonder if we were loud? We never have to worry about how loud we are when Ridge is home.

  A groan comes from beneath the pillow and the body rolls over, facing me so I can see it is, in fact, a girl. I continue to sit on the floor, eating my cereal. I watch her attempt to open her eyes.

  “Who are you and why are you asleep on my couch?” I finally ask her.

  Her whole body jerks at the sound of my voice. She lifts the pillow and backs away, making eye contact with me. I have to stifle a laugh, because someone has written Someone wrote on your forehead on her face with a Sharpie.

  It was more than likely Ridge, so I do what I can to avoid looking at it and stare at her eyes instead.

  “Are you the new roommate?” I say with a mouthful of cereal.

  She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I’m a friend of Ridge’s.”

  Hmmm. Didn’t see that one coming.

  “Ridge only has one friend. Me.”

  She rolls her eyes and sits up on the couch. She’s cute. Very impressive, Ridge.

  “Jealous?” she asks, stretching into a yawn.

  “What’s his last name?”

  “Whose last name?”

  “Your very good friend, Ridge.”

  She sighs and her head falls against the back of the couch. “I don’t know Ridge’s last name,” she says. “I don’t even know his middle name. The only thing I know about him is he’s got a mean right hook. And I’m only asleep on your couch because my boyfriend of two years decided it would be fun to screw my roommate and I really didn’t want to stick around to watch.”

  I like this girl. She could give Bridgette a run for her money. And I don’t mean with me, I just mean because Bridgette is mean and probably doesn’t meet a lot of girls who would stand up to her. This could be fun. “It’s Lawson,” I say. “And he doesn’t have a middle name.”

  I hear Bridgette’s bedroom door open and I immediately turn around to face her. She’s still wearing my boxer shorts from last night, but she’s put her own T-shirt over them. God, she looks good. “Good morning, Bridgette. Sleep well?”

  She looks at me briefly and rolls her eyes. “Screw you, Warren.”

  Which, in Bridgette speak means, Yes, Warren. I slept like a baby, thanks to you.

  “That’s Bridgette,” I whisper, turning back to the girl on the couch. “She pretends to hate me during the day, but at night she loves me.”

  The girl laughs and makes a face like she doesn’t believe me.

  “Shit!” Bridgette yells. I turn around in time to watch her catch herself by grabbing the bar. “Jesus Christ!” She kicks one of the suitcases that are still on the floor next to the bar. “Tell your little friend if she’s staying here she needs to take her shit to her room!”

  My little friend? I
turn to face the girl on the couch again, wide-eyed. I think Bridgette already has an issue with this girl. All the more reason to make sure she becomes the new roommate, because I like an angry Bridgette. I’m also willing to bet a jealous Bridgette will be a lot more clingy, which could work in my favor. I turn and glare at Bridgette from where I’m seated. “What am I, your bitch? Tell her yourself.”

  Bridgette glances at the girl on the couch, then points to the suitcase she almost tripped over. “GET . . . YOUR . . . SHIT . . . OUT . . . OF . . . THE . . . KITCHEN!” She says before marching back to her bedroom.

  I slowly turn my head to face the girl again. “Why does she think you’re deaf?”

  She shrugs. “I have no idea. She came to that conclusion last night and I failed to correct her.”

  I laugh. What a perfect prank, and I didn’t even have to think of it. “Oh, this is classic,” I say to her. “Do you have any pets?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Are you opposed to porn?”

  “Not opposed to the principle of porn, but slightly opposed to being featured in one.” I nod, because that’s probably a good thing. At least I won’t have double the reason to watch every porn I can get my hands on.

  “Do you have annoying friends?”

  “My best friend is a backstabbing whore and I’m no longer speaking to her.”

  “What are your showering habits?”

  She laughs. “Once a day, with a skipped day every now and then. No more than fifteen minutes.”

  “Do you cook?”

  “Only when I’m hungry.”

  “Do you clean up after yourself?”

  “Probably better than you,” she says, glancing at my shirt, which I’ve used for a napkin several times during this conversation.

  “Do you listen to disco?”

  “I’d rather eat barbed wire.”

  She’s perfect for us.

  “Alright, then,” I tell her. “I guess you can stay.”

  She sits up straighter and pulls her legs onto the couch. “I didn’t realize I was being interviewed.”