The Failing Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #2)(65)

Vi doesn’t reply, only traces my right nipple with the tip of her index finger, round and round, in small circles. I know she’s not doing it to be suggestive, so I take a few deep breaths, body beginning a slow buzz. Every little touch a spark to ignite me.

I fiddle with the single bracelet circling her wrist—the sunflower charm catching the light from my desk lamp.

She clears her throat delicately. “So, do you normally…you know…so fast?”

I grimace. “If you’re asking if I normally come so soon, the answer is no.”

She hums, finger moving from my pec to my clavicle, slowly dragging it along my skin.

“Did it hurt?” I find myself asking.

“A little, but it felt good, too. Real good.” Her pretty face buries itself in my armpit, embarrassed. “It’s been a while.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, girls always know shit like this. You probably know down to the day.”

“All right, fine. It’s been fourteen months, ish.”

“Fourteen months? That’s over a year.”

Wow. That sounded smart.

I plant a wet kiss on her parted lips, slipping my tongue inside, wanting to devour every inch of her.

“Is that a goodbye kiss? Is this the part of the program where you ask me to leave? Is that what usually happens with you? You kick people out after you’ve slept with them?”

She fires off a litany of questions, the answer to each one of them yes.

I try to make light of a conversation I don’t want to have. “Yeah. It’s what I would normally do.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

I’m quiet then, because the actual truth is, while I was in the bathroom before, I considered how this would end for us if I kicked her out.

Thought about it while I was tossing the condom in the trash. Thought about how I could use a good night’s sleep, alone in my own bed—considered it in the least douchey way possible.

But then I’d taken a long look at myself in the mirror, a good hard look at my reflection. The gray, lifeless eyes that normally stared back at me weren’t lifeless at all; they were sparkling, which is the best goddamn way I can describe it without sounding cheesy.

And there was a fucking smile on my face. An actual smile, with teeth and everything—and that has to count for something, right?

So, like a good little boy scout, I pulled back the quilt and slipped back into bed beside her. Pulled her body close and thanked fuck she was still naked so I could fondle her tits without having to do it under her shirt.

“No, don’t leave. I want you to stay.”





Something—or someone—wakes me in the dead of the night.

A warm slumbering body pressed into my back. A willowy arm thrown across my waist, resting on my hip. A nose buried in the crux of my neck.

I scoot, giving myself room, then roll to my back.

Roll to face her.

Violet stirs, arm falling to the mattress.

The moon is bright outside my window, casting enough light into the room that I can study her sleeping form. She’s so serene. Stroking the flat of my palm down the smooth skin of her shoulder, I skim it down her bicep.

Catch a satin blonde lock of hair between my fingertips, rubbing it, the silk fanning out on my pillow. No shame, I lean in, obsessed with the smell of her. Clean. Sweet.

Unassumingly sexy.

I scoot closer, head on my pillow, watching her doze.

Learn the contours of her face in the bright moonlight. The curve of her cheekbones and the bow of her lips.

Slowly, her eyes flutter open.

We regard each other, her lids heavy, eyes searching my face.

Wordlessly, the tips of her fingers extend to trace my heavy brow, down the bridge of my busted up nose. Trail along my cheekbone, thumb smoothing over my crow’s feet.

I kiss the tip of her finger when it glides over my lips.

“I’ve always thought your eyes were incredible.” Her husky voice is quiet, whispering, heavy with sleep. Has my black heart skipping a beat. Heat rises in my chest as she lavishes attention on me in the dark. “They’re the best part of you.”

“No. They’re not,” I whisper back, her fingers still bestowing tingles on my skin.

“They’re not?”

“No.” Not even close. “The best part of me is you, Violet.”

Violet stills, her hand dropping to my chest. My pecs. Covering my heart, leaving tremors in its wake. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“Then you’ve been hanging around a bunch of fucking idiots.”

My dick twitches, jerking to life when she edges near—so near, her bare, naked skin presses against mine. Hand presses my shoulder blade forcefully, easing me onto the mattress until I’m flat on my back.

She lifts one leg, straddling me.

“Say something dirty.” Her mouth finds mine. “Real dirty.”

Oh Jesus Christ.

I grasp her lean hips, running my large hands along her thighs, the raging hard-on between my legs fucking with my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“No, but…” I inhale a sharp breath when her ass crack rubs my cock. “I don’t want to be a pig.”