The Wild Side (The Wild Side #1)(19)

“No, thank you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not here to use you.  I have a feeling you’ve had a bit too much of that in your life, Dair.”

“You wouldn’t be using me.  I’m offering, for me, because it would make me feel better to know you have a safe way to get around.”

She patted my knee and didn’t say another word about it, no matter what I said.  It was infuriating.  She was as stubborn as she was sweet.

Sweet and affectionate.  Even as she drove, she kept reaching over to touch me, sweet touches, stroking my cheek, rubbing my shoulder, patting my hand.

I was still tired, still sleepy, but I sat there like a stone, hands on my knees, while she did it.

It feels nice to be touched, I mused.

It was comforting, it occurred to me, and I was surprised by the thought.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I fell asleep the second I laid myself out on my bed and more than half-expected to wake up alone.

But I didn’t, this time.

I roused wrapped around her, her little blonde head burrowed under my chin, one of her arms thrown over my ribs, her blunt nails tracing soft patterns onto my back.

It was still light out, so it couldn’t be that late.  I was relieved.  I wanted more of her and not tomorrow.

Today.

Now.

My hand stroked over her soft hair, and she shifted back to look at me, her gaze very alert, as though she hadn’t slept at all.

I took her face in both hands and started kissing.  It was a slow, open-mouthed kiss.  Wet and warm and perfect.  I would have been happy just to stay in bed and keep kissing her like that, but she went limp, then started moaning, and I knew it wouldn’t be enough for long.

My hands started wandering.  She was wearing a white T-shirt, one of mine, I thought, but I quickly discovered that she wore nothing underneath.

She’d showered while I slept, I could tell.  Her hair was dry, but she smelled like my soap.  My inner mouth-breather (the one that was just now coming forth) loved that, relished that it marked her as mine.

I pulled away from her soft mouth with a gasp, buried my face in her neck, and took the deepest breath.  This thing between us, this insane energy that took me over when she came near, didn’t seem to be fading the more I had her.

It was the opposite.

I really hoped she wasn’t going to disappear from my life anytime soon, but I was very aware that I had little to no control over that.

She pulled away suddenly, shifted her body out from under mine, and moved away.

I blinked, once, twice, trying to shift gears, attempting to keep up with whatever was going on, but my body was not cooperating.

“We need to eat,” she told me, her face and voice unreadable.  “We skipped lunch, and it’s time for dinner.  I’m starving.”

I nodded my head, still trying to resurface from my lust haze.  I wasn’t sure how she did it, but my brain was not functioning yet.

“Do you mind if I poke around in your kitchen to see what there is to eat?” she asked, already moving off the bed.

I was still throbbing, my eyes on her body, my mouth forming words that had almost no meaning to me.  “Make yourself at home.”

She strode from the room.

My hand went to my c**k and started stroking.  I couldn’t shift gears that fast, and I needed relief.  It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to hand jobs.  And I had some delicious visuals in my head just from the last ten minutes alone.

“Come keep me company!” I heard her call from the hallway, and I stopped jerking with a curse.  If there was even a small chance I could get off with her, instead of just thinking of her, I had to take it.

Who knew how long this little fling of ours would last?  Certainly not me, and I needed to savor every luscious encounter.

I slipped on a pair of gym shorts, and that was it.  I was hoping to need as little clothing as possible again in the very near future.

She was already setting food out on the counter nearest the stovetop when I joined her in the kitchen.

I leaned back against the island, folding my arms over my chest, and watched her.  I’d found the one place in the oversized room to stand that would crowd her.  She didn’t complain.

“I hope you don’t mind breakfast for dinner.  I’m making French toast and bacon.”

I heard her, I just didn’t really process her words, still watching her and throbbing in time to her every movement.

“I can’t believe you have actual butter in your house.  You even had a stick at room temperature.  And powdered sugar.  Do you bake?”

The fact that she’d made the last bit a question was the only thing that had my mind catching up, and my mouth answering.  “I don’t, no.  The lady that does my grocery shopping and cleans the house likes to use my kitchen for baking when she’s here.”

“Wow, do you ever do something crazy, and like eat a cookie?”

I laughed, but she was reaching up into the cupboards to grab something, and my T-shirt rode up high on her thighs, then her ass, and the laugh cut off short.

“Yes, sometimes I’ll eat a cookie.”  I said it with a straight face, barely.

“Well, that’s something.  I won’t press my luck and ask you how you feel about butter.”