All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(81)



And then, absolutely safe at last, he let go and slept.





24


ALEX WOKE HARD AND WANTING.

His mind had been wiped clean of grief and guilt, at least for the moment, and his rested body responded to Wren’s proximity the exact same way it had been doing for weeks now.

When he twisted his neck just right, he caught a glimpse of the bedside clock. The two of them had only taken an hour’s nap, and he had plans for their second night together. Plans involving that spacious whirlpool tub on the balcony.

Now to find out if Wren still wanted him, even after his umpteenth emotional upheaval of their limited acquaintance.

Only—shit. As gently as possible, he slipped out of her arms and went to find his wallet. Because if he didn’t have a condom there …

“Alex?” Her voice was sleepy. “What are you doing?”

Better to know her intentions now, he supposed. “Checking for condoms. In case that’s something we might need.”

She rose up on one elbow. “I don’t have any. I’m sorry.”

The good news: Wren apparently didn’t find emotional breakdowns a turnoff. That should serve them both well in the future, because he was who he was.

The bad news: When he checked his wallet one last time, its contents hadn’t altered.

“I don’t have any either,” he told her. “Dammit.”

“We can ask the front desk for help, I suppose.” Her forehead creased as she considered the situation. “Or try to find a nearby convenience store that’s still open.”

Both valid options, but there was at least one other possibility. A good one.

“Or we can do things that don’t require a condom.” He arched a brow. “Fun things. Things involving that tub out on the balcony and its various jets.”

“Oh.” Her eyes went big. “I haven’t done … things … quite like that before.”

“Do you want to?”

Her legs pressed together as she shifted, and he knew her answer even before she spoke.

“Yes.” Pink-cheeked but proud, she tipped up her chin. “I do.”

“Whatever you want. Nothing more, nothing less,” he reminded her.

She inclined her head, solemn. “The same goes for you.”

Foolish woman. As if he didn’t want anything and everything she might be willing to give him.

He let out a slow breath, offering one final warning. “We’ll be outside, so you’ll have to stay quiet.”

She erupted in sudden laughter, covering her face and making those cute little snorty sounds as he stared at her in utter confusion.

“You’re worried about me keeping quiet?” She raised her head, still grinning. “Unless you’re asleep, you’re talking, Alex. Between the two of us, who do you think is more likely to get loud?”

Oh, that was a challenge, and he was more than happy to meet it.

“With what I plan to do?” He raked his gaze up and down her round, lush body. “You.”

All lingering amusement in her expression vanished. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s so.”

Reaching for the hem of his T-shirt, he stripped it off in one swift movement, then pushed down his jeans and kicked them aside. Neighbors might be able to hear them, but no one could see them on the balcony. He had no intention of wearing his swim trunks. Or anything else, for that matter.

Her face turned rosy, but she didn’t back down. She gave his body her own leisurely once-over, and his erection strained against the fabric of his boxer briefs.

She rose to her feet and stood toe to toe with him.

In the blink of an eye, her BHE tee whooshed to the floor. Underneath, she wore a thin, white cotton bra, one without apparent underwire. Given her modest breasts, she didn’t need more.

He didn’t need more either. She was enough. She was everything, exactly as she was.

The darker hue and pebbled tips of her nipples showed through the fabric.

“Cold?” he asked. “Uncomfortable?”

She smiled at him slowly. “Not at all.”

Her leggings clung to her thighs faithfully, and she peeled them down inch by inch, either because she was congenitally fucking slow or because she was taunting him. Probably the latter.

When she stood again, he kept his eyes on hers. “You don’t have to get completely naked, Wren.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, and then her bra was on the couch, and her cotton panties were on the floor, and she was standing there completely naked as he choked on his own tongue and began coughing.

She was the Venus of Willendorf, only with smaller, lovely breasts.

She was unabashedly round everywhere else. Her belly especially, but her arms and legs too, and her wonderful, flagrantly large ass. She was composed of curves. She was glorious.

And she was laughing at him. Loudly.

She didn’t bother hiding her face, and it was even better than her usual laugh, because he got to see her joy. Her pride in his reaction.

Her flush had spread down to her breasts, and although her hands twitched when his eyes ventured there, she didn’t cover herself.

“I thought—” He coughed again, attempting to recover his stolen breath. “I thought you were shy, you infernal woman.”

Olivia Dade's Books