The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(67)

“What?” He asks without looking my way.

“I’m just wondering if you’re missing something tonight.”

“Missing something?” He opens a bag of screws.

“You know, a party, booze,” I hold out my hands from my chest. “Big breasted elves.”

“Clarissa, I’m not into that anymore.”

“Hmm,” I say, pulling the trash from the carpet.

He grabs my free hand and commands my eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be. Okay?”

He slides his thumb over the back of my hand, and I melt into that touch as my skin heats.

It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. I’m a horny, needy woman. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been on the receiving end of more of his attention because I’m reeking of desperation. I feel like a fool as I gather the rest of the trash.

“He’s going to love this,” Troy says. “I can’t wait to see his face.”

“I was thinking. If you want to spend the night on the couch, you’re welcome to, so you can be here when he wakes up.”

“Yeah. That will be cool.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He nods, intent on his task.

I crack Dante’s door for a quick check and see he’s hanging off the bed. I right him beneath the covers before closing his door and setting a decorative ring of bells on the handle to ensure we can hear him coming.

Armed with blankets and a pillow, I pad into the living room to see Troy standing and stretching.

“You’re done already?”

I bend over to inspect Dante’s new desk and light stands. “This is awesome. What a good idea. He’s going to love making his videos with this.”

“Jesus Christ,” I hear uttered in annoyance and glance over my shoulder to see Troy scrubbing his face with his palm.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he says hoarsely.

I frown and take a step forward. “Troy, what’s going on? I thought we were okay.”

He stares down at me, pushing the hair away from my shoulder. “We are.”

“Why are you acting so weird?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, “I just have a lot on my mind. I’m going to head home. I’ll probably be up anyway when he wakes up.”

“You’re not going to stay?”

“No. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“It’s one in the morning,” I hear the whine in my own voice and inwardly cringe.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

But I can’t stop the thoughts racing through my mind. Jealousy burns through me at the idea that it might not be stuff, but a who he needs to do.

He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Merry Christmas. See you in the morning.”

“Do you want me to text you when—” The door shuts behind him, and I stand there staring blankly at it, wondering where I went wrong.

Just weeks ago, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Unable to handle another second of his hot and cold, I stalk after him.

“Troy.” He’s halfway across the yard when I catch up with him, freezing in nothing but my pajamas. “What in the hell is your problem? I thought we were okay?”

He lets out a slow exhale. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you won’t even look at me?”

“I’ll see you in the morning. We’re good, I promise.”

“Fine, whatever, better go get to doing whomever you need to do.”

He turns on a dime and grabs my wrist, and before I know what’s happening, I’m flush to him as he places my palm over his erection. I gasp at the feel of the bulge in his jeans as he leans in close.

“In an adult relationship, sex is gradual,” he grits out. “There’s no one and done.” Heat rolls off him as he runs my hand back and forth along the length of his cock. “You take the time to get to know the person, make sure your goals match because you’re well versed on what you do, and do not want.”

Realization dawns that my own words have come back to bite me in the ass.

“I want to be what you need. I want to be that man for you. And I’m fucking trying.” Mouth parted, he growls, yanking me closer. “It’s not anyone but you, and right now, I’m not in the mood for conversation. It’s taking everything I have not to rip those fucking pajamas off your body, spread your legs and eat that beautiful pussy and ass you so painstakingly keep waving in my face.”

In the next second, I’m covered in nothing but Troy, his warm hands, lips, and tongue as he plunges it into my mouth. I kiss him back in a fever, wrapping around him and tugging at his hair. He grips my ass fully while I climb him like a monkey before grinding on him like a stripper.

“Jesus Christ, I swear you’re trying to kill me,” he rasps out between kisses as I grip his sweater, pulling in for more. Enveloped in his hold, he deepens the kiss as I hook my ankles around his waist. It’s freezing, but we’re an inferno in between our two yards, the neighborhood eerily silent. Only the sound of our kiss and mingling fast breaths between us.

He rips himself away. “Fuck, I can’t take this.”