Rock Chick Regret (Rock Chick #7)(146)

“Anytime, honey.”

We disconnected. I did the getting ready for bed thing, gathered up my clothes and boots and walked into the bedroom.

The lamp was lit on the nightstand by Hector’s side of the bed. Hector was sitting up against all (yes, all!) the pillows, chest bare, legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, wearing a pair of gray, drawstring sweatpants that had also been cut off (poorly) at mid-thigh.

He looked better than ever which, at that moment, I thought stunk.

A game was on TV but his eyes sliced to me the minute I walked in.

It took effort but I ignored him. I wasn’t quite finished being angry, though I wasn’t certain sure what I was angry about anymore, and I wasn’t quite ready to make amends and didn’t know how anyway. So, I dumped my stuff on my overnight bag and headed to the other side just as he angled off the bed and stalked out of the room.

I stared at his back until he went into the bathroom then I climbed in bed, stole two of the four pillows as should be my ration and propped them up on my side well away from his. I sat on the covers, arms crossed on my midriff, legs out, ankles crossed and I locked my eyes on the TV.

I didn’t watch sports, except tennis, those tennis players had finesse… and nice legs, so the football didn’t do anything for me but I watched it like it fascinated me beyond imagining, even though Hector wasn’t in the room (practice).

Therefore, when he came back, I kept my eyes glued to the TV and didn’t look at him except when he walked in front of the TV, of course. I didn’t look at him when he got to his side of the bed and I didn’t look at him when he resumed his position.

Then, all of a sudden, his arm sliced along the small of my back between me and the pillows, he yanked me across the bed until my body hit his then his arm bent, so my front was against his side.

I put a hand on his abs to push away but his arm went tight.

“What are you doing?” I snapped, looking up but he leaned across me and grabbed my pillows. Doing an ab curl, he shoved them behind him. “Hey!” I cried. “Those are my pillows.”

“Settle, Sadie,” he ordered in a low voice.

I. Did. Not. Think. So.

“Don’t tell me to settle! You just stole my pillows!”

I pushed away.

His arm got tighter.

I pushed harder, putting my full body into it.

His other hand came to my hip and held on.

I wrapped my fingers around his wrist and pulled it way.

His wrist twisted and then his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

Thus began The Tussle.

I had no chance in heck of winning but it didn’t stop me from trying.

There was a lot of grunting (Hector and me), some sharp cries (all me), panting (mostly me), rolling (both of us), more rolling… still more rolling. Then it changed from being all about limb maneuvering, strategy and strength to being about getting as close as physically possible, tasting, touching, kissing and even biting (me again).

He yanked off my pajama bottoms and panties. I tugged off his sweatpants. Then we went back at each other like there were ten seconds left before the whole of planet earth was going to explode.

Finally, I ended up on my back, my legs wrapped around his h*ps while he drove deep inside me, our mouths touching but we weren’t kissing, just breathing heavily. The delicious anticipation was hitting critical mass in my body, my nails tore up his back, he groaned against my mouth at the same precise second his last, deep thrust caused the sweet tension to release and explode and I gasped against his lips.

When we were both finished, his weight settled on me, his heat surrounded me, he stayed deep inside me, we were both panting and he rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed.

Then his eyes opened and he said softly, “Christ, Sadie, puttin’ up with you demonstrating how many more ways you can be a pain in the ass was worth every f**kin’ second if that was the end result.”

Someone, please tell me he did not just say that.

“You did not just say that,” I said to him.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he abruptly switched topics. “Who’d you call?”

I blinked in confusion. “What?”

“In the bathroom.”

Not that it was any of his business, I answered, “Jet.”

“She sort you out?”

I felt my eyes narrow. “Do you want me to be mad at you?”

His h*ps moved slightly and I couldn’t help it, I was still tender, I let out a little moan.

When I was done moaning, he grinned at me wickedly and muttered, “I’m thinkin’, yeah.”

I glared.

His grin died, face and voice now serious, he said, “We gotta get by this, mamita.”

I kept glaring.

Then my mind flashed on the memory of Luke and the security guard forcing Hector away from me in the hospital when he didn’t want to go.

And, even though, if you asked me if I had any instincts, I would have told you no, I pulled them up from wherever they were lying latent and I went with them.

“Other than you, I’ve had two lovers,” I announced and watched his face grow dark and begin to morph toward angry. “No. I don’t want you to share yours. I’m just saying, neither of them, well, they weren’t…” I stopped and then started again, “You need to know, I haven’t let anyone close and tonight you found out why.”