Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(100)

Now, somehow, I was wearing it.

Which meant I was in another fool situation right now!

“How…?” I started but stopped when his head moved, his mouth came to my neck, lips sliding up to the back of my ear.

“Carried you to bed last night, went for your pajamas in your bag, found my shirt. You don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, why’d you steal my shirt?”

Blooming heck.

With no other choice, I decided to go for attitude. “You shouldn’t have rooted through my stuff.”

“You shouldn’t have stolen my shirt,” he returned.

This was true.

“You can have it back,” I snapped.

I felt his body move and I lost his heat but only so he could put his hand to my belly and press me to my back. He came up, elbow in the pillow, head in his hand and looked down at me, grinning.

I glared up at him.

“I don’t want it back,” he said.

“I don’t want it anymore,” I lied.

The grin widened to a smile, his head bent and he kissed me softly.

“You want it,” he murmured against my lips.

I did. I wanted it. I wanted it to remember not to be a fool. I also wanted it for those times when I would pretend I could be a normal girl with a normal boyfriend having a normal relationship. I wasn’t sure flannel was de rigueur on Crete but I also didn’t care.

That’s when I remembered Pretend Sadie and what she was going to do for me.

And I realized I needed her even more than I thought I did.

Because she was going to get me free, with my heart guarded but she was also going to get me the memories I’d need in order to go on, alone, without my Mom, without anyone.

“Oh all right,” I gave in, blowing out a huff of air. “I want it.”

That’s when Hector’s eyes grew dark, warm and intense and I stared in order to memorize that look so I could hold it with me for a long, long time.

While I was staring at his face, he pulled the covers down to my thighs. He watched me as his fingers moved to the buttons of the shirt and undid them (he’d only done up two) and he spread the shirt wide.

I pulled in breath and started to cover myself when he mumbled, “Don’t.”

It was hard but I made my hands settle and his eyes went to my chest, his hand followed and, slowly, it trailed down my chest, between my br**sts, over my ribcage and midriff to my belly. The whole time, his eyes watched his hand and, when his hand rested at my belly, that belly melted.

This was because his face got this expression, an expression I’d never seen on him before. It was more intense and warm than normal, but it was also soft and bizarrely, at the same time, hard. I got the impression it was like him cupping my breast. It signified possession.

At that realization, I couldn’t help it, my bones went liquid.

“Hector –” I breathed and his eyes came to mine, his fingertips moved across the top edge of my panties and his head descended.

That was it. I gave in because it was Hector, I wanted him (he was right, obviously), I wanted the memories of “us” and I wasn’t disappointed.

It was just as amazing as before.

It was a mixture of hot and urgent but slow and sweet and the only difference was, when I tried to shrug off the shirt, he wouldn’t let me. He made me keep it on, even when we were ready, breathing heavily, kissing hard, my nails scraping at his skin and he rolled to his back, taking me with him. He yanked up my knees so I was straddling him, guided himself inside and pushed me up so he filled me.

It felt great.

I started moving, our eyes locked, his hot on me, mine had to be the same because my body felt hot, everything felt hot, my eyes had to look as hot as his.

His hands moved on my body under the shirt. I put mine over his and his kept going, taking mine with them. Then one of his hands went between my legs, shifted, pressing my own fingers to me and manipulating them.

“My God,” I breathed, tingles shooting from between my legs down the tops of my thighs as it started happening, the tingles gathering, getting tight.

I bent forward slightly, resting my free hand on the bed, giving me more leverage to move faster, grind down harder. His free hand went to my jaw, his thumb trailed my bottom lip and at his touch, I parted my lips, touching my tongue to his thumb then my teeth tagged it, biting softly before I sucked it inside my mouth.

The minute I did that, his face went darker, his eyes went hotter and everything happened at once.

I came, hard and delicious, at the same time his hand left mine between my legs. His arm sliced around my waist and he threw me to my back and started pounding into me, prolonging and intensifying my orgasm as he took my moans in his mouth then, before I was finished, his groans mingled with mine.

When we were done, while my h*ps jerked softly under his in the aftermath, my hands moved along the skin and muscle of his back, I replayed the last fifteen minutes, burning it into my brain to carry with me forever.

“You still with me?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Yes.”

“Don’t shut down on me,” he muttered and I felt guilt slide through me that he’d even think that but it was my fault. In a short time I’d conditioned him to it.

My hands stopped roving and my arms got tight.

“Okay,” I said.

He rolled to the side, rolling me with him but keeping my leg around his hip with a hand behind my knee. Then his fingertips slid gently from the back of my knee to my bottom and back again and again and again.