by Katie Allen
“Nothing. That was an ‘I can’t believe the day we just had’ groan, not an ‘I just remembered that I forgot to set the security alarm in the gallery’ groan. Plus, there was a little ‘it feels so good to lie in this bed again’ in that sound I made, too.”
“Louis!” Forgetting the awkwardness of being in bed with him, she reached out to shove his rock-hard shoulder. It didn’t even budge him an inch, of course. “You should’ve kept your bed, and I could’ve taken the couch, or at least you should’ve climbed in here with me earlier.”
Not looking at all abashed by her scolding, he twitched the shoulder she’d just smacked in a slight shrug. “The bed’s wasted with me in it. I spend most of the night in the studio or on the couch, anyway.”
Talking with Louis was relaxing her, and she felt her earlier nervous tension draining away, leaving only sleepy concern for him. Drawing her knees up a little higher, she tucked her hands under her cheek. “Have you always had insomnia?”
“Kind of. I’ve never been able to just lie down and sleep for eight hours straight, especially if I’m in the middle of a painting or my brain is busy with something. It’s been worse than usual the past few years, though.”
“How can you be so cheery when you’re operating on a few hours of sleep?” She yawned in the middle of the last word, as if saying sleep triggered the urge. “When I’m tired, everyone around me knows it. I get cranky.”
Even in the dim light, she saw him widen his eyes dramatically. “I know. You’re scary when you’re sleep-deprived, worse than a velociraptor with a toothache.”
Amused despite herself, she laughed. If she hadn’t been so cozy and comfortable, she would’ve reached out to shove him again. “Shut up. I’m not that bad.”
His teeth flashed in the dimness as he smiled. “No, you’re not. It’s kind of cute, actually. You’re more like a cranky, rumpled kitten.”
Her brain was too tired to come up with a clever comeback, so she just made a raspberry noise. In the silence that followed, her eyes slid closed. She was close to sleep when he spoke again, just loud enough for her to hear.
“I like having you in my bed, Annabelle Shay.”
Too tired to open her eyes, she just reached out a blind hand and gave him a clumsy pat. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” she mumbled. As she tried to withdraw her hand, he caught it in his, linking their fingers together.
Instantly, she was wide awake. Just that small connection erased all of her sleepiness. Any contact with Louis was like touching a battery, sending a jolt through her. She met his eyes, staring at him across the space that had seemed so small a moment ago, but now seemed much too far. Without releasing his hand, she shifted closer until her front was barely an inch from his side.
Although she desperately wanted to press herself against him, she hesitated. Despite all his chatter about marrying her, she felt like she was the one who pushed the touching boundaries. She was the one who’d straddled him and touched his bare chest. She was the one who’d brought up having sex. She was the one who’d basically insisted that he climb into bed with her. It had been a well-intentioned offer that had nothing to do with getting into his pants, but it was still another instance of her moving closer to him. Lying right next to him, she studied his expression, wishing he’d tell her what he wanted—or just shove her back against the pillows and have his way with her.
“You’re kind of confusing.” She blurted out the words without running them through her brain filter first.
“I know. Sorry about that.” That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. “If it helps any, I’m usually confused by myself, too.”
Blinking, she tried to figure out what he meant by that. “Um...no. That’s not really helpful.”
His smile started slow, curling its way up his cheeks until it took over his whole face. “I’m not confused right now.”
“Okay. Can you fill me in, then?”
“I want you.”
Chapter Thirteen
The words were low, almost a growl. She’d never heard him sound so guttural, almost feral, and the rawness of his voice turned her insides into warm mush. Even though she’d just said that she wanted to know what he wanted, it was almost overwhelming to hear him say the words, to know that he needed her that badly. Her brain was completely wiped of coherent thoughts, and she could only stare at him, trying to fit what he just said with her usual jolly, easygoing Louis.
“If I can’t touch you right now, I’m probably going to go up in flames. Frustrated flames. That will probably set the bed on fire. Which could be dangerous.”
Is it weird to want to kiss him and laugh at the same time? This was Louis, though. During the entire time she’d known him, she’d spent most of that time wanting to kiss him and laugh. “What are you waiting for, then?” she asked, managing to control both the urge to kiss him and the urge to laugh. Her voice matched his, low and raspy and filled with need.
He sucked in an audible breath, his gaze fixed on hers. “Really? I can touch you now?”
“Only if I can touch you back.”
His nod was just the slightest dip of his chin before he tugged on her hand, just hard enough that she toppled toward him. Grasping her hips, he shifted her so she was lying over him. Her hands had automatically braced against the mattress on either side of his head when he’d moved her, which was the only reason she wasn’t completely plastered against him from thighs to nose.
His fingers dug into her hips, five on one side and three on the other. She liked the asymmetry of the firm pressure because it reminded her that she was with Louis. No other man’s grip would be the same. No one else could make her feel the same for more reasons than just his two missing fingers.
Gradually, she lowered herself down, savoring each new press of his body against hers until her mouth was just an inch away from his. Louis never looked away from her, his dark eyes black in the dim light. When she paused, hesitating to kiss him, knowing that after opening this door—the kissing-Louis door—it could never be shut again, his eyes slid shut as if he was in pain.
Before she could react, he lifted his head and kissed her.
It was better than she’d expected, better than she’d dreamed. His lips were soft yet insistent, taking over her mouth before she fully realized that they were actually kissing. All those nights she’d lain in bed and wondered how it would be, what it would feel like, and her imaginary kisses with Louis never even came close. Reality was better than any daydream she could’ve imagined.
With a low groan, she pressed more firmly against him, losing herself in his kiss and the feel of his rock-hard body against hers. To ground herself, she allowed her knees to slide to either side of his waist. Her breath caught. Not only did her naked thighs slide over the rippled texture of his sides, but her center ground against his solid abs, sending shock waves of pleasure shooting through her.
Her teeth closed on his lower lip, drawing a hungry sound from him that made her impossibly wet. She felt his tongue slide across the spot she’d nipped, and she met it with hers. Her hips rocked, grinding against his rigid belly, seeking the right pressure and friction on her aching, needy clit.
One of his hands left her hip to cup the back of her head, pulling her deeper into the kiss. He ate at her mouth with frantic hunger, as if he couldn’t get enough of how she tasted and felt and sounded. Then they were rolling, and she let out a startled sound that quickly turned into a needy groan.
He’d turned her over onto her back, and the weight of him pushed her legs even wider until she felt a satisfyingly deep stretch of her thigh muscles. The way he had her pinned beneath him put even more pressure against her clit. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she tried to pull him in to her impossibly tighter.
Even as they’d rolled, he hadn’t stopped kissing her. It was as if he’d had months to think of how she’d feel, what they would do, h
ow it would happen if they ever touched like they were doing right now. She wondered if it was possible that he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him, almost from the first time that they’d met.
His mouth left hers and trailed down her throat, sucking and nipping and brushing the sensitive skin there. She realized that she had use of her hands now that she wasn’t using them to hold herself up above him, so she buried them in his hair, her fingers combing through the messy, silky strands that were as soft as she’d imagined they’d be.
He dropped kisses along the neckline of her tank top, licking across her collarbone and scraping his teeth lightly against the top of her sternum. Shivering as the feel of his lips and teeth and tongue against her skin sent heat racing through her, she grasped handfuls of his hair and tugged lightly, making him gasp. Air from his mouth brushed her damp skin, and goose bumps prickled her arms and across her spine. Her legs tightened convulsively around his waist as she tried to press her wet core more firmly against his abs.
The movement must’ve unbalanced Louis, because he dipped to the left and landed on his side with a grunt. Not wanting to release him, she rolled with him, keeping her legs wrapped around him and her fingers tangled in his hair as they ended up on their sides.
With a grimace, he tipped his head back, his expression pulled tight in frustration. There was something about seeing Louis’s face so transformed from his usual easy smiles to looking almost agonized with need...need for her.
“Sorry.” His voice was gritty, and she blinked at him, too caught up in the sensation of having him pressed against her and staring at his lust-strained face to understand what he meant.
“About what?” she asked, her voice caught between breathless and hoarse.
“Losing my balance. Almost falling on you.”
She was still confused and distracted by the desperate need to have his mouth on her again. “It doesn’t really matter what position we’re in, as long you’re touching me.”
He sucked in a breath, his eyelids lowering to half-mast. His face was a picture of hunger, and she couldn’t hold off any longer. Yanking his head forward, she pressed her mouth to his. After a startled pause, he took over, his kiss even more out of control and ferocious than before. She smiled against his mouth, loving the wildness, the heat, the knowledge that she was making out with Louis and it was incredible.
“I changed my mind,” she said when she finally managed to draw back enough to speak. The temptation of his mouth was too great for the break to last, though, and she dove in to kiss him again.
This time he was the one to pull away. “Changed your mind about what?”
She loved his raspy growl, especially knowing that she was the one doing this to him. “It does matter what position we’re in.” His head jerked back slightly, as if he’d been struck, and she immediately felt bad for teasing him. She rushed to finish. “On our sides like this, both our hands can roam.”
To emphasize how very much she liked this freedom, she slid her hand over his hip and pinched his ass cheek—or tried to. His butt was so tight and hard, it was like trying to squeeze a bowling ball.
His forehead smoothed as he let out a puff of relieved laughter. “If you like this, I know something you’ll enjoy even more.” Releasing her, he twisted around until he was sitting up. Before she complained that she actually didn’t like this better, since she missed the feeling of him pressed against her, he was hauling her up to sit straddling his lap, facing him.
“Oh, I approve of this change,” she said once she’d figured out what his plan was. “This reminds me of the night on your couch.”
“This time I get to touch you.” He leaned in, but she pulled back a little, curious enough to delay the kissing in order to ask a question.
“Did you want to touch me that night?”
“Are you kidding?” His hands ran up her thighs, lingering on her hips before moving behind her to cup her ass. “I nearly died from frustration. You fell asleep, and I stared at you for hours, wanting you, hard as a rock.” He winced. “That sounds so creepy. Sorry. I’ll try to control my stalker-like behavior.”
“It wasn’t creepy.” She thought of all the times she’d watched him when he was unaware of it. He had some catching up to do to match her in stalking behavior. “Not when you do it. I wish I’d known. I’d have been all over you in a second.”
“Yeah?” His mouth curled up in a smile, but his eyes were narrow and hot. “You wanted some of this action?” He made a sweeping gesture along his side, as if presenting himself as a prize—her prize.
“I do. So much.” The words fell out of her, sounding naked and honest, and his teasing grin faded as heat took over his expression. With a hungry sound, he palmed the back of her head and yanked her into a kiss. It was wild and almost brutal, but Annabelle loved it. There was no more teasing in his actions, in the rough but tender way he’d taken over her mouth. This was raw need.
There was no out now, no possibility of escape by pretending they’d been joking or were just casually messing around. They wanted each other desperately, and this kiss was proof of that.
As his mouth gentled, the kiss just as intense but less out of control, she realized that she’d been gripping his biceps, digging her fingertips into the hard muscle of his upper arms. Softening her grip, she started to explore, running her fingers up to the point where his shoulders met his neck and then down to his chest.
From his heavy breaths to the erection that pressed against her center, his need was obvious, and she loved that, loved that she could get him so excited. As their tongues played with each other, she searched for all the sensitive spots she’d barely gotten to discover that night on the couch.
When she pinched his nipples, he grunted in a way she would’ve thought indicated pain, except that his hips surged up against hers at the same time. His reaction made her smile against his lips, and he nipped her lip sharply in teasing retribution.
“Think my desperation is funny, do you?” The rasp in his voice seemed to rub against her skin, and it was her turn to grind against him.
“Not funny,” she managed to say. It was hard to organize her thoughts into words when her entire body felt like it was on fire in the best way. “Hot and gratifying, but not funny.”
His eyes, molten with heat, bored into hers as his fingers dug into her ass cheeks, pressing her firmly against the bulge of his straining cock. “You know what else isn’t funny?”
“What?” The word was just a gasp of sound as pleasure jolted through her with every press of his erection against her needy center. She was soaking, every kiss and squeeze of his hands and grinding thrust of their hips drawing more wetness from her.
He held her still, their laps pressed tightly together, and she couldn’t hold back a desperate moan. Why was he stopping? She wanted to strip off her pajamas and his shorts and feel him sliding inside her, but now he wasn’t even letting her grind against his covered erection. Frustrated desire filled her, making her feel like she was going to explode if she couldn’t have him in the next few seconds.
“It’s not funny that I don’t have any condoms.”
She froze for a moment, trying to process the meaning of his words when her body was in full-on need-sex-now mode. “None?” she finally asked, her voice so small and sad that she cringed a little.
Louis’s huff of laughter didn’t hold any amusement as he shifted his hold, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her into a hug. “None. Sorry. I didn’t expect this to happen. I’ve pretty much resigned myself to not needing them. Do you have any?”
“Not here.” She sighed, feeling herself deflate as the air left her. “I just moved, remember? They’re tucked in some box, sitting in the storage unit.” At the time she’d been packing up her house, sex with Louis had seemed like an unrealistic daydream. Her head dropped onto his shoulder as their chests pressed together
, sending a fresh flare of desire through her that was followed quickly by disappointment. Her practical side, which had been shoved to the side during the flurry of kissing and touching, woke back up. “That’s okay.” Her arms wrapped around him automatically to return his hug, and she enjoyed the feeling of his damp skin and solid muscle beneath. Touching him gave her ideas—steamy, lustful ideas. “Maybe we could do something else?”
When she tried to scoot down so her face was in his lap, his hold tightened, preventing her from escaping the hug. “Don’t think I’m quite ready for that.” His voice shook slightly, whether from desire or nerves or a combination of both, Annabelle didn’t know. She realized that it probably wasn’t the blow job he wasn’t ready for, but the idea of her having her eyes so close to his residual leg. He’d admitted to her that he avoided sex since his amputation because he didn’t want anyone to see him naked, so she could see how giving her the close-up view right off the bat might be nerve-racking for him.
Her rush of tender feelings for him didn’t cancel out the raging frustrated desire that he’d built up inside her, though, as well as a spark of hurt that he didn’t trust her enough to let her see his scars. Her hunger for him was the most immediate need, however, so she pushed away her other emotions to deal with later.
“No mouths, but how about fingers?” she asked, sliding her hands around to burrow between them and sneak under the waistband of his shorts. A small part of her wondered where this sexually brave temptress had come from, but she figured it was her desperation coming into play.
He inhaled sharply as she brushed the head of his cock. “Fingers are...” His breath caught again. “Good. Fingers are good.”
There was something about taking away his ability to speak and think and hide his desire for her with just the slightest touch that made her feel powerful. Her small, smug smile disappeared when his fingers slid down the back of her sleep shorts and panties, working their way between her thighs to stroke over her wetness from behind. Suddenly, she was in the exact same boat as Louis was.
