When I'm Gone (Rosemary Beach #11)(25)

“You want to read to me some more?” I asked, trying to think of anything to say to get my mind off what she was wearing.

“No . . . not really. My brain is too tired to read,” she said. She was moving around again. I could hear the muffled sounds of her sheets.

“What do you wear to sleep?” I asked her, before I could stop myself. I had to know. It was driving me crazy.

She let out a little laugh. “Nothing special. Just cutoff sweatpants and a tank top. It’s soft and old, and I love to sleep in it.”

I really wanted to see that soft, old tank top on her. The image in my head was wreaking havoc with my dick. It had stirred to life. But I had asked her what she was wearing, so I had brought this on myself. “What color is it?” I asked, wincing at my words. Dammit, what was I doing?

“Pink . . . or it was. It’s faded now. Not so pink anymore,” she replied hesitantly.

“Sounds comfortable.”

“Mmm-hmm,” was her only response. I started to change the subject for my own sake, but I didn’t get a chance. “Do you just sleep in your underwear?” she asked, so softly I almost missed her question.

I thought she’d known just how naked I slept after I’d come out into the hall wrapped in a sheet the first time we met. “No,” I replied, surprised that she’d asked me.

“Oh. I just assumed that since you came running into the game room in your boxers when I cut my hand, you must sleep in them.”

A grin tugged at my lips. I’d snatched those out of my duffel and jerked them on while running down the hall toward her that morning.

“I put those on before coming to check on you,” I explained.

A quick intake of breath was her only response.

“Sleeping naked ain’t so bad. You should try it sometime,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood, since she seemed at a loss for words.

Then she giggled. Mission accomplished. “I’m not sure I could do that,” she said in an amused tone.

I was sure she could. My mind was playing with images of her doing just that. Then I joined her in my imagination, and it got even more interesting. Those long legs and that little freckle tucked below her ass would be the first things I explored. An image of her on my bed, with her ass stuck up in the air so I could nuzzle and kiss that freckle, sent a hard throb to my cock.

I wrapped my hand around it and squeezed, trying to calm it the f*ck down. It was hot to the touch and wasn’t going to cool itself anytime soon. Especially with Reese’s voice heating me up.

“Reese, give me just a minute. I’ll be right back,” I told her.

“Oh, OK,” she replied.

I hated that I was this f*cking weak, but I had to get control of myself now if I was going to keep her on the phone until she went to sleep. I had to either jump into a cold shower or finish this fantasy in the privacy of my bathroom. I was in a hurry, and the image of Reese in my bed with her juicy round ass in the air was teasing me.

I closed the bathroom door, walked over to the wall, and leaned against it, then took my throbbing dick in my hand again. Slowly, I stroked it, as I licked Reese’s ass and freckle, then shoved her legs apart and felt her hot * slick to my touch. My other hand would caress her ass, then slide up until it felt the hard nipples and heaviness of her breasts hanging down toward the mattress.

She would cry out as I slipped my tongue over her tender flesh, and her breasts would sway and bounce in my hand. Fuck, that was all it took. I cried out as my release pumped out of me and covered my hand, still fisted tightly around it.

Since meeting Reese, I had been doing this more and more. I had tried a few cold showers, but I f*cking hated them. This was the easier solution. And the less painful one. Plus, my fantasies about Reese were getting better and better.

Reese

Jimmy came by the next morning to tell me he had called in sick for the rest of the week and was going on a mini-vacation to get away from everything. He hadn’t slept last night, and he was weepy today. His main concern had been me getting to work. Although I had assured him that I could walk, he said he wouldn’t be able to relax and get his mind off everything if he was worried about me walking. So he had a guy he trusted come pick me up and take me home on the days I worked. He assured me that he’d known this guy forever, and he was a close friend of Mr. Kerrington. I had to promise him that I would ride with his friend, Thad, before he would leave. Because I was worried about him, I said OK. But this wasn’t something I wanted to do at all. I would have much rather taken a cab. But Jimmy refused to accept that.

So now I stood outside my apartment waiting for a “black BMW with shiny silver wheels you can’t miss” to drive up. Jimmy had also said that Thad had long blond hair and looked like he belonged on a surfboard.

Yellow crime-scene tape surrounded the door and sidewalk three doors down. I cringed at the thought of the horror that had happened. Jimmy had seen it all. I worried about him, too. How could he get that out of his head and move on?

Last night, I had drifted off to sleep while Mase had put me on hold. It surprised me, really. Just knowing that he was there and wasn’t leaving me had been enough to relax me. Then there had been the strange conversation we’d had about what we were sleeping in. He slept naked. The image of that man naked excited me. Which was going to be awkward when I had to see his face again.

The slick black BMW was hard to miss as it pulled into the parking lot. Even without seeing the wheels or the blond guy in the driver’s seat, I knew it was him. No one in this apartment complex drove a car like that. I pulled my backpack up onto my shoulder and took a deep breath. Jimmy wouldn’t send someone to get me who was dangerous. I could do this. I could.