Out of Love(33)

Our eyes met, like he needed to verify I was pleasuring myself for his pleasure. I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes on a soft moan.

“Fuuuck …” he said in a throaty groan two seconds before attacking my mouth again.

His fingers joined mine, but only briefly before he moved both of our hands and pressed the head of his erection against my entrance. He leaned me back on the table again, sinking into me one slow inch at a time while my fingers curled, clawing the flesh covering the tight muscles along his back.

We screwed on the table for a while before relocating to the fridge door, bent over the back of the sofa, and finishing at our original spot … the top of the stairs.

Sweaty and searching for oxygen, he rolled off me and onto his back. We stared at the water stain on the ceiling for several minutes. I had a million questions. The first one being … who was the woman in the Lexus and where did he go for those three nights that I watched Jericho? Did he have sex with her? Did he have it with her the way he had it with me? Did he kiss her like he was trying to consume her entire body with one never-ending kiss?

I turned onto my side, admiring the sweep of his long lashes as his eyes rested shut and the splay of idle hands on his chest. After I ate up the vein porn, I straddled his abs and planted my palms on the floor beside his head. My long hair tented our faces. He blinked open his eyes, searching mine.

“Wylder …” I whispered as his hands parked on my hips.

“Hmm …” he responded, blinking heavily.

I took a few seconds to bask in the warmth of our bodies so close and him surrendering to me.

“Was it you?” My face lowered to his. I kissed along his cheekbones, across his forehead, and down his nose to his lips where I whispered over them again, “Was it you? Did you take that man’s life? Did you save me?” My lips ghosted back and forth over his.

“You know the answer.” He gripped my hips and lifted me from his torso as he climbed to his feet. His sexy-as-fuck, sculpted nakedness moseyed to the bedroom while I stayed on my knees at the top of the stairs.

I knew the answer. I just didn’t know the why. Of course he would think it was obvious, but it wasn’t. A normal person might have tried to pull my attacker from me. Throw a few punches. Call the police.

The man who tried to rape me just … disappeared in complete silence with precision … flawless execution.

On a defeated sigh, I stood and followed his path to the bathroom and the buzzing of his beard trimmer. The shower was on, room filling with steam, as tiny whisker trimmings fell to the sink. A navy towel hung low on his waist.

I imagined sidling up to his back, pressing my lips to his spine as my hands snaked around to his waist, tracing the lines of his abs.

I imagined asking him if I could shower with him.

I imagined all the ways I could come across as needy or insecure. And while I did know in my gut that he was the one who saved me, I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who needed saving. The needy girl.

He offered me the sofa, so I grabbed a new T-shirt he bought me and the only pair of panties that weren’t a thong. During my more thorough search, I stumbled across a bag of toiletries. A jackpot of shampoo, conditioner, a comb and a brush, deodorant, and the greatest of all … a toothbrush and peppermint toothpaste. Scurrying back up the stairs—naked—I locked myself in the hall bathroom for the next thirty minutes.

Easing the door open, I listened for him, but the house was silent. Light filtered through his partially open door. I shut off the bathroom light, tiptoed down the stairs, cleared the bags off the sofa, retrieved a pillow and blanket from the metal trunk, and snuggled onto the sofa while blowing Jericho a kiss goodnight.

The top stair creaked, and I snapped my eyes shut for several seconds. Peeking one open, I tracked Slade sauntering into the kitchen in nothing but boxer briefs. He filled a glass with water and drank it down. After flipping off the lights, he started back up the stairs.

“If I have to come back down and carry your ass up here, it’s not going to be gentle.”

Gulp …

I counted to ten to see if he by any chance was talking to Jericho, but the pooch didn’t budge, so I took a guess that he meant me. Ascending the stairs with patience and stealth, I peeked into his room, standing in the doorway. With his back against his solid wood headboard, he kept his gaze on his computer opened on his lap.

“You said I could sleep on the sofa.”

“And you can.” His fingers continued to move over the keyboard as his brow wrinkled a bit at the screen.

“But you just ordered me to sleep in your bed.”

“I didn’t. I ordered you up here … but there will be no sleeping anytime soon.” He closed his laptop and set it on the floor under his nightstand.

“What are you wearing?” He cocked his head to the side.

I glanced down at my tight, white tee and bikini cut panties. “Um … the closest thing I could find to pajamas.”

“I didn’t buy you pajamas.”

I returned my gaze to him. “Yeah, I saw that.”

“Then take that shit off.” He did it again. That barely detectable grin hiding just beneath the surface.

“I think your attitude is taking up too much space in the room. I’m going to sleep downstairs with Jerry.” I turned and headed toward the stairs.

“I missed you,” he said.