You're to Blame(51)

My fingers brush a bundle of hair on her cheek. She stirs, and I pull back, not wanting to wake her. She deserves to sleep soundly. The girl’s been through hell.

Guilt isn’t something I’m used to feeling. I fly through life making decisions for my own gain, not caring if I hurt others in the process. The decision we made last night has complicated things, but in the afterglow of being together, I can’t find any feeling of regret.

As if she senses me, Charlotte’s eyelids flutter open. An adorable blush covers her cheeks. Without skipping a beat, she cuddles into my side, placing her hand under the covers and tickling the top of my bare abs. Her smooth, lean legs mix between mine, and I sigh in relief like a pussy. Her skin against mine is miserably perfect. I shouldn’t want this, her, and here I lay, trailing my fingers down her spine. Up and down, up and down, until she shivers.

“That feels good.” Like kerosene on a fire, her mouth drips with satisfaction, lighting every nerve in me ablaze. Is she purring? Hello, morning wood.

The curve of Charlotte’s ass is something to admire. The soft mounds fit perfectly in my hand, like they’re made for me to grip.

“Can I ask why your alarm” —she sits up on her elbow, her nipple grazing my chest as she stretches to see the time— “is going off at nine in the morning?”

“I get up at the same time every day,” I admit. “And yes, I know how crazy that sounds.”

“Like you never sleep in?” She arches her back, cuddling in closer to my side.

“If I had you next to me every morning, I’d have a good reason to stay in bed.” I kiss her temple, and she smiles. Knowing it makes her happy forces me to do it again.

“If I had you next to me every morning, I’d probably never make it to class.” A slow, sexy as sin smirk spreads across her face. “Speaking of class, looks like I’ll be missing my nine o’clock lecture. You aren’t a good influence, Duke Anderson.”

“I’d have to agree. You’re capable of making me miss just about anything to see you sprawled out on my bed.” I comb my fingers through the ends of her soft hair.

“So, what do you do at nine in the morning every day?”

“I run.”

“For coffee?” Charlotte giggles.

My heart jolts, reminding me I’m very much alive beside the first girl who’s ever made me self-aware.

“No, for release.” I glance down at her, remembering the release we caused in each other last night. No one has ever stayed the night, but damn, she looks good here.

“Every morning?” She shudders at the thought. “Why would anyone choose to do that?”

“Some of us aren’t born with a perfect body.” I squeeze her thin waist line. She bashfully squirms. “Much like yourself.”

“Yeah, well, if that’s what you get” —her hands glide over my stomach— “then maybe I should start running, too.” She lifts the blanket, inspecting every dip and ripple. She looks at me like I’m the last glass of water on this Earth, and she’s dying of thirst. Charlotte’s lip tucks behind her teeth.

“Want to go with?” I carefully slip out from underneath her. A cool breeze hits my body, no longer cozied up next to her warm body, completely exposed and under her watch.

Charlotte tucks the blanket around her, shifting onto my pillow. The fact that she’s comfortable in my space sends a thrill throughout my body. I’ve never once wanted to see someone splayed out on my bed. Since I’ve lost my virginity, I’ve never gotten personal enough with someone to have them last until morning. Some may find it rude; I just see it as honest. I don’t have time for the morning after where we stumble through navigating the fact she wants breakfast, and I want her the hell out of my apartment.

Watching Charlotte wiggle under my navy comforter makes me want to bring her breakfast in bed. Not the half ass kind, like popping a strudel into the toaster, but the full spread. Pancakes. Bacon. Eggs.

“I want to make you breakfast.” I blurt true word vomit. What a fucking idiot I must sound like.

“What about your run?” She giggles sweetly, surprised by my honest outburst.

“Right.” I turn, my erection now at half mast, practically staring her in the eye, begging her to wrap her pretty, perky lips around the tip. Snap out of it. Don’t scare her away. “Do you want to go?”

Her head jerks up. “Go with you where?” Her expression morphs from delight to confusion.

“For a run.” I open the top drawer of my dresser and slide on a pair of boxer briefs. “What do you say?”

Charlotte throws the blanket off her body. She’s a slice of naked perfection I had the pleasure of being inside last night. Her eyes gaze playfully down at her lack of clothes, and she groans. “Damn, looks like I can’t go.” She may as well have snapped her fingers and said ‘aww shucks’.

With my hands planted on each side of her body, I drop slowly like a strained push-up, dipping my lips until they wrap around one of her nipples. I lift and catch her attention. Her eyes dance with fascination, eager to see what I’ll do to her body next. I lower again, not to neglect the other, and lick along the pebbled skin. She moans, and my briefs tighten.

“I’d like for you to run with me.” Run away with me. Run to me. I’d like her to do all those things, but for now, we’ll go with run with me.