“Until now.”
“Until now,” she repeats.
“Me either,” I tell her, and the relief in her eyes stings. “I’m clean, but if you don’t trust me, I’ll get tested.”
She shakes her head. “I trust you.”
And just like that, the sting is gone.
“I am going to go get cleaned up though.”
“Good idea.”
She swings her legs around, then hops off the bed, nearly falling over.
“My legs are like jelly.” She laughs. “I think I might need help in the shower.”
I narrow my eyes, following her off the bed. “Uh-huh. This sounds like a ploy for shower sex.”
“No.” She points at me. “No more sex. I don’t think I can handle any more tonight.”
“Just tonight?”
“We’ll see.” She grins. “Come on. We’re using your shower.”
She lied.
It really was all a ploy for shower sex.
13
Holland
The moment the sun hits my eyes, pulling me from my slumber, I know I’m alone.
I’m freezing, and if I learned anything last night, it’s that Sutton is like his own little heater.
I reach over to feel the sheets.
Cold.
He’s been gone for a while.
I hate that my initial assumption is that he left me again. That he used me. Got what he wanted and left me hanging just like before.
Then, I smell the bacon and hear his voice, and my panic subsides.
“Hey, you little shit, I said no. You can’t go bother her. She’s sleeping. Some strapping young man ravaged her last night—many times, thank you very much—so she’s exhausted. Let her rest. Don’t give me that look. Come on, I’ll give you an extra treat.”
Artemis meows and I hear Sutton retreat to the kitchen, with her no doubt following close behind.
Just like that, the reality of last night sinks in.
He was right—everything is different now.
For starters, I can’t stop smiling.
I can’t stop smiling because I had sex with Sutton.
Maybe once upon a time I thought we could have had something, however fleeting it may have been, but I never would have imagined this.
I never would have imagined how good it is. How good it feels. How good he makes me feel.
I have no idea how it could ever be any better than this.
I stretch my arms above my head, loving the way my body aches from the brink of exhaustion he took it to last night.
If I close my eyes and think hard enough, I swear I can still feel his hand on me.
And I swear I might never be the same again.
Because once again, Sutton Barnes has ruined me.
I’m not sure how I feel about it.
His confession last night shocked me. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn’t doubt what he heard. It seems I need to have a serious talk with my mother when I’ve had a chance to process everything.
Then he said he was sorry, and I could tell he meant for everything.
For high school and all the times he sabotaged me. For four years ago. For sending those emails.
His apology felt sincere, but it wouldn’t be the first time something with Sutton has felt that way, only to have him ruin it.
I want to believe him. I want to trust him. But I’m scared of getting my heart broken again.
Not wanting to ruin my good mood, I tuck those thoughts away, saving them for later when I can dissect them over and over again.
Right now, I have something more pressing to deal with—facing Sutton.
In daylight. Without the shield of lust to hide behind.
We called a silent truce last night after the shower. We didn’t talk about what had just happened. We didn’t talk about the past. And we definitely didn’t discuss what this means for the fact that we’re roommates and coworkers.
Instead, I curled into his side and he ran his fingers through my hair until I fell asleep with my head on his chest…only to wake hours later with an ache between my legs I couldn’t satiate. He fucked me lazily from behind until we both came.
Even though I don’t want to leave his ridiculously comfortable bed, the scent of bacon grows stronger, and I figure it’s time to crawl out of bed and face him before he comes wandering in here.
I help myself to the plain black tee balled up at the foot of the bed, hoping he doesn’t mind, then head to the bathroom and use some of his mouthwash.
When I peek at myself in the mirror, I finally get what the phrase looking thoroughly fucked means.
My lips are swollen, the marks on my collarbone are more pronounced, and there are bruises forming on my hips in the shape of Sutton’s hands. My eyes look a shade brighter, and my skin looks years younger—dark circles under my eyes and all.
I run my hands through my hair, finger-combing it into place as best I can, then slip the t-shirt on. I’ve looked better, but this will have to do.
I pull in a strong breath for confidence and make my way to the kitchen.
With his back to me, he has no idea I’m there.
No idea I’m watching him scramble eggs in nothing but a pair of sweats, that body he’s always in the gym sculpting on full display. Just seeing the way his muscles move across his back makes my fingers itch to touch him, and desire rockets to my core like I didn’t have four orgasms last night.
I imagine sneaking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist, plunging my hands into his pants and gripping his cock. Spinning him around and dropping to my knees for him.
I clench my thighs together as I picture him looking down at me with that damn smirk I hate.
Fucking hell.
What is the matter with me, fantasizing about him like I can’t get enough?
But that’s what happens with Sutton. I lose all my sense.
“You know I can feel you undressing me with your eyes, right?” He peeks at me over his shoulder, grinning. “And you know I’m really fucking enjoying it, right?”
My cheeks burn knowing I’ve been caught.
He chuckles, returning his attention to the stove. He flips a burner off and moves the pan from the heat. Divvies up the food between two plates, then sets breakfast on the island.
“Hope eggs, bacon, and toast are okay?” He looks at me expectantly, and I nod. “Good. Coffee?”
Another nod because it’s apparently all I can manage.
Who the hell is he right now? Did a few orgasms turn him into a different person? Was all his assholery due to lack of getting laid?
He busies himself fixing two mugs of fresh coffee, adding a splash of milk and a dash of cinnamon to one. I love that he remembers how I take my coffee.
He sets the coffees in front of the plates, then rounds the counter, not stopping until he’s standing before me.
Considering all the things I let him do to me last night, I shouldn’t feel embarrassed standing in front of him right now, but I do.
I drop my eyes to the floor in an effort to avoid his stare. He tucks two fingers under my chin—two fingers I know are magic—and lifts my face to meet his.
“Pretty sure you’re not allowed to be embarrassed when just a few hours ago you screamed out things like Oh god, fuck me harder, Sutton.”
“I didn’t scream it.”
“You’re right. You demanded.”
“I politely requested.”
His lips twitch. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
He presses a quick kiss to my lips. “Let’s eat before I do something crazy like drag you back to the bedroom and have my way with you and our eggs get cold. Nobody likes cold eggs.”
He tugs me over to our waiting breakfast. I notice right away something is missing, so I head for the fridge.
When I turn back around, bottle in hand, Sutton’s shaking his head.
“What?” I ask, taking the spot next to him and c
racking open the bottle of ketchup, squirting so much on my eggs you can hardly see them anymore.
“That’s disgusting, and I’m ashamed I ever let you suck my dick.”
I nearly spit out the coffee I just took a sip of, ignoring the zing that hits right between my legs at the reminder of our shower activities last night when I sucked him off until he came down my throat.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Disagree,” he says, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Boring eggs. Dry eggs. He chews and swallows. “It’s an insult to the chef is what it is.”
“They’re scrambled eggs. Calm down with the titles over there.”
“Hey, I poured everything into these eggs. Salt, pepper, love.”
We both freeze when he says the word even though we know he didn’t mean it in that way.
It doesn’t make it any less scary.
He clears his throat, quickly changing the subject. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“Like…with us?”
“Unless you have plans already…”
I shake my head. “No. I just…I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting that you’d want to spend the day together.”
“Why would I—” His face falls, and the hurt is evident as he realizes what I’m referring to. “Oh.”
I almost feel bad for bringing it up, but it’s true.
He forces a grin, moving on quickly. “Well, you’re wrong. I have a whole day planned.”
“Oh?”
“I was thinking we start with morning sex after we refuel, then possibly a blow job for lunch. Perhaps some sex in the pool before dinner—don’t want to swim and fuck on a full stomach. Then we can do butt stuff for dessert.”
I lift my brows. “That’s a lot of sex.”
“It’s really not that bad if we space it out properly, and that’s a bare minimum of four orgasms—because I fully intend to reciprocate that blowie.” He winks. “And don’t think I missed that you did not actively refuse butt stuff.”
“I’m sorry, I meant to clarify on that, but I was a little more focused on the fact that you’ve apparently planned my day around fucking you, assuming I’m going to do it again.”
“Based on the way your legs are shaking when you walk, I’d say you’re definitely going to do it again.”
Guilty.
“Counteroffer: what if we eat breakfast, nap, take a swim that doesn’t include public fornication, and then revisit those four orgasms later? Because I don’t know about you, but I’m sore and need to recuperate.”
A slow, sly grin curls over his lips, and I already know whatever is about to leave his mouth is going to be naughty.
“Are you sore because of my huge cock?”
I snort. “Yes, your massive manhood has just wrecked me.”
“Oh, so it’s massive, not just huge?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s adequate.”
He leans into me. “Shaking legs, Holland. Shaking. Legs.”
“Quit bragging and eat your breakfast.” I shove his face away. “We apparently need the fuel.”
“Is that a yes for our sexcapades?”
This time I do roll my eyes.
It’s been a week since we first slept together, and things are slowly getting back to normal with us—if you don’t count the fact that I’ve been sleeping in Sutton’s bed every night and we’ve spent countless hours learning each other’s body. Or the fact that we don’t talk about what any of this means. We just…talk. It feels just like it used to before everything crashed and burned before it got the chance to fly.
We avoid any discussion of us.
We just simply are.
I’ve been trying to not get attached to him this last week. I don’t want to let myself get attached. I don’t want to get too invested in whatever it is that’s happening between us.
Been there, done that, got the scars on my heart to prove it.
I’m not looking for a repeat of that heartache.
I wrap a towel around myself, then wipe off the steam on the mirror just as Sutton struts into view.
“You’re totally going to take over my bathroom, aren’t you?” he asks as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans—something I didn’t know was incredibly attractive until right this second—and leans against the doorframe.
I watch in the mirror as his eyes scan me from head to toe, lingering on the spots covered by a towel as if he could see through it if he stared hard enough.
“One hundred percent,” I answer, grabbing my comb that’s sitting on the sink and running it through my hair. “It was a huge reason I fell in love with this apartment in the first place.”
“That and how close it is to your brother. It must be nice to have a sibling you don’t have to compete with. Someone you can just co-exist with and not constantly be living in their shadow.”
I’m not sure if most people would pick up on the pain lacing his voice, but I do, and my heart aches for him.
I don’t know Sutton’s parents very well outside of the events we’ve attended over the years, but I do know that even though my parents aren’t the warmest, they’re practically loving compared to his.
First and foremost, he was a Barnes. Image always came first, and he was expected to live his life according to their rules. Sutton was expected to dress a certain way, act a certain way, and entertain certain people. Everything had to be perfect to protect the image.
I can’t imagine having to live under that sort of pressure.
“Anyway,” he says, “I was actually coming in here for a reason. And no, that reason wasn’t just to see you in a towel.”
“Well, you’re not seeing me naked either. We spent the entire morning in bed, and I need to recover.”
Something that seems to be a trend with us.
At work, we keep it professional.
But at home…at home we can’t keep our hands off each other.
Every night when we walk in the door, we practically leap at one another and race to the bedroom. Sometimes we don’t even make it that far.
“From the good dickin’ I gave you?”
I shake my head, turning to face him. “What do you want, Sutton?”
“Oh, right. I was wondering if you wanted to get out of the apartment for a bit, maybe grab dinner?”
I don’t know why, but that is not what I was expecting him to say. I thought for sure he’d be coming in here with some sexual innuendo like he did three times while I was in the shower.
I didn’t expect him to ask me out.
“Out? Like out out? In public?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly, drawing the word out. “I mean, it’s just dinner at the diner, but yeah.”
“As in…a date?”
“We go to The Gravy Train all the time, but I guess this would be a date, yeah.”
“Oh.”
He tips his head to the side, squinting at me. “Why do you look so apprehensive about that?”
“I’m not. I’m…surprised is all.”
“Why?”
Before last weekend, we went to the diner all the time together. We spent a lot of lunches there arguing about anything and everything.
We haven’t gone at all this past week, and I think it’s because we both know it would be better if we didn’t spend time alone together during work hours. It’s less tempting that way.
So going with him now…leaving this little bubble we’ve created in the apartment…it makes what’s happening between us feel all too real.
I’m not sure I’m ready for it to be real.
But sticking to our unwritten rule of not talking about us, I don’t tell him any of that.
Instead, I muster up the sauciest grin I can, stick my leg out of my towel to let him see just a peek of what’s underneath, and say, “Just figured you were more interested in staying home is all.”
He studies me hard, and for a moment I worry he’s going to call me on my bullshit.
Luckily, he doesn’t.
He crosses the bathroom, not stopping until he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him. I slide my arms around his neck and can feel his hard length against my stomach as he slips his hands under my towel, massaging my ass.
“Enticing,” he says, dropping a kiss to my shoulder, “but I’m craving pie, and as sweet as your pussy tastes, I think real food is in order after our activities this morning.”
I blush at his words, still not used to him talking to me like that.
He kisses a path to my ear, then whispers, “I promise I’ll take good care of you when we get home if you feed me.”
“Okay, you’ve convinced me.”
He chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”
He smacks my ass, then pulls back before we get carried away, leaving me to get ready.
“Stop it!” I whisper-yell, smacking his hands away from my ass. He’s been trying to slip his fingers up my shorts since we got in line. “We’re in public.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to wear short-as-fuck shorts. I swear to god I’d see your ass cheeks if you bent over.” He drops his lips to my ear. “And that really makes me want to bend you over.”
My breath catches in my throat, and that ache between my legs I can’t seem to make go away makes it presence known again.
“Well, hell. Fancy meeting you two here.”
I whirl around at the familiar voice.
“Dean!” I say way too loudly.
“Holland!” my brother mocks, not catching on to anything. He gives Sutton a nod. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” Sutton says back. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Pie,” River and Dean answer at the same time.
“Us too. I’ve had the weirdest craving for cherry lately,” Sutton says, and I pray nobody notices the blush that steals up my cheeks.
River bumps her shoulder into mine, and I peek over at her.
She bounces her brows up and down, flicking her eyes between me and Sutton.
My stupid blush deepens, and she grins.
I already know I’m going to be getting a text from her later, wanting all the details.
Tempt Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps) Page 12
