Raging Heart On (Lucas Brothers #2)(28)

Baby cannon? Did he just say that? While eating me out? Baby cannon. Then the strangest thing happens. I envision a picture of me with my legs open and a baby shooting out from me as if I was in fact a baby cannon. The baby is all covered up in a blanket like it was special ordered, and I laugh. I laugh loudly.

This can sound strange to you. It's okay. It does to me. But I've barely had sex in my nearly thirty years. I've never let myself go in all this time. I've always worried about if the person was turned off by my hips being too wide or my legs being covered in cellulite, or my broad ass, or my breasts which were too big and sagged. The list goes on, and that's not even mentioning the stretch marks, or the odd moles I have that seem too large for my liking. Sex has been a chore, a trial, something I did to make the other person happy and then later I could always find my vibrator.

But I’m here, naked in the shower with my best friend—the man I love with everything inside of me, the man I just stopped by telling him he might have an STD, that man—and I'm laughing. I'm laughing and aroused.

How is that possible? Before I can think about it any further, I feel him sliding his fingers inside of me while his tongue continues to lick against my clit. I stop thinking altogether. Thinking is definitely overrated.





CHAPTER 20


WHITE




"You're being quiet again," I whisper. I feel out of my depth here. I can't read what she's thinking. Does she regret what happened in the shower? Does she want me to leave? I've never had to worry about this shit before. This is new territory. No. Kayla is new territory and I'm walking on eggshells.

"I'm sleepy," she whispers into the darkness, and that tells me exactly nothing.

After the shower, I stripped and washed us both off, mostly because Kayla was pretty boneless. A man should take pride in that—and I do. Then I dug around in her dresser for some old sweats and a t-shirt that I have here. We ate and watched a movie. It's been a great night, but it didn't go as I thought it would. Somehow in my mind, us having sex, or even just sharing what we did, was the cure-all. Once that was done, we'd either be on solid ground as just friends, or this fantasy of being with Kayla would be out of my system. Neither of those things happened. I'm still so f*cking hard it feels like the top of my dick is about to explode. Worse, it feels like Kayla is pushing away from this arrangement even more. How did it go so wrong? I was supposed to tie her to me and stop her from backing away. Fuck, if the opposite isn't happening. Jesus, I used to be able to handle women so easily. They begged for my attention. Now, I feel like I’m the one on the verge of begging.

"Do you want me to go?" I ask because we're lying in her bed watching a movie. She's lying on my arm, her head curled so that it's right under my head. She's pretending to watch television.

"No," she whispers, then after a minute she adds, "Unless you want to."

"I'm good, honey," I tell her, kissing the top of her head. My fingers are moving back and forth in her soft hair without purpose other than I just want to touch her. I'd be totally relaxed if it wasn't for the elephant in the room. "Kay—"

"White—"

"You first," I tell her.

She's quiet. I want to throw something against the wall. It shouldn't be this difficult. Loving on Kayla, making her come, was the single most beautiful thing I've ever shared with a woman. How did I go from that to being pretty damn positive she wants nothing to do with me? As much as I hate to say it, it may be time for me to call my mom. If anyone understands Kayla more than me, it would be her.

"What we did…" she starts, and deep in my stomach I feel a knot form. Don't say it, Kayla. Don't say it, honey. "That probably shouldn't have happened."

And… she said it.

"Why?"

"Why?" she repeats.

"Yeah, honey. Why? Didn't you enjoy it?" I'd like to see her deny that.

"I don't think ‘enjoy’ is the right word," she stalls.

"I think it's the perfect one. Did you enjoy having me finger that sweet little * and eat you out?"

She squirms in my arms, but I don't let her go, choosing instead to hold her tighter.

"Answer me, Kayla."

"I think it's pretty obvious that I did," she grumbles.

"Do you want it again?"

"What? No!"

"I think you're lying. I think you do. I think you want it just as bad as I want to give it to you," I respond, kind of glad I'm not looking her in the face, just in case I'm wrong. I don't want to see the rejection there.

"It's not about if I enjoyed it. It's just, well..."

"Tell me. If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, there's no way I can guess it."

"White, this whole thing… sex, making a child… it's going to cause things to go weird between us."

"No, it won't."

"It will! It already is! We're barely speaking," she says, pulling away to sit up on the bed. This time I let her so I can do the same, leaning back against the headboard.

"The only person barely speaking here, Buttercup, is you."