Make a Wish (Spark House #3)(58)
I have condoms in my bedroom. And I’ve been on the pill since I was eighteen. But safety is important, and we haven’t talked about previous partners.
He squints at the date stamped into the foil wrapper. “Good for another six months.”
“Perfect.” I nab it and tear it open, rolling it down his length.
And then he’s pushing inside, stretching me, filling me, connecting us in the most intimate way. He grips my hip, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter, and I wrap one leg around his waist, letting the other dangle, my toes brushing along the side of his thigh.
Instead of wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I lean back on my palms, taking in the sight of him, sweaty and naked, standing between my thighs. He’s such a delicious treat.
I roll my hips, encouraging him to move. His thrusts are slow at first, long and languorous. I drop a hand between my thighs and rub tight circles, sensation gathering and building until I’m at the edge of an orgasm. I balance there for a few seconds, then tip over into bliss, fingers moving furiously as Gavin continues to pump his hips.
As soon as I drop my hand back to the counter, he slides both of his under my butt and lifts me, forcing me to wrap myself around him. He lifts and lowers me, faster and harder, my sensitive skin rubbing up against him, sending another wave of pleasure rushing through me.
We end up in a heap on the kitchen floor. Still wrapped around each other. I blink at him, running my fingers through his sweaty, messy hair. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” His voice is more rasp than words.
“Wanna sleep over so we can do that again in the morning?” I ask.
He grins, his eye twinkling with mischief. “I was thinking more like the middle of the night, but yes, I definitely want to sleep over.”
Sixteen
LITTLE BITS OF TRUTH TO MAKE THE WHOLE
HARLEY
Over the weeks that follow, Gavin and I try to find time to spend together, just the two of us. It isn’t always easy because my schedule still doesn’t allow for frequent weekends off. But some nights, after we’re sure Peyton is asleep, we’ll sneak into his office, lock the door, and have frantic, quiet sex.
We decide not to tell Peyton that we’re dating. Gavin and I try to keep it platonic when it’s the three of us, so as not to confuse her. We want to be careful, not only for her sake, but also for ours, as we navigate this new version of us.
One night in the middle of the week, about a month or so after we start seeing each other, I slip out of her bedroom after reading her three stories and find Gavin sitting in the living room with the TV on, clearly not watching it since the volume is too low to hear. We haven’t had a night alone in a couple of weeks, and mostly it’s been stolen moments.
He tosses the Architectural Digest magazine on the table. “Is she asleep?”
“Out like a light.”
He pushes up off the couch. “My office?”
I nod and turn around, hightailing it down the hall. He follows close behind and pulls the door shut behind him, turning the lock before we’re on each other, groping, grinding, and trying to rid each other of our clothes as quickly and quietly as we can.
“We need another sleepover. These quickies aren’t cutting it.” He drags my pants and underwear down my legs and drops to his knees, gripping my hips and nuzzling my center. His mouth finds my sensitive skin for a too-brief moment before he stands up and pulls me over to the couch.
He drops to his knees again and pushes my legs apart. In the weeks that we’ve been sleeping together, I’ve discovered that Gavin is very gifted in bed. I’ve never been with someone who can make me come every time we have sex, or who makes sure that I’m satisfied completely before he finds his own release. Even if it doesn’t happen quickly—which sometimes is the case if I’m listening for the sound of feet in the hallway—he’s always patient and attentive, coaxing delicious orgasms out of me.
He runs his palms heavily up the inside of my thighs and licks his lips, gaze dropping between my thighs. “I can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” he groans.
“Daddy! Harley! Where are you? Daddy! Daddy!” The sound of Peyton’s feet coming down the hall has us both shooting up off the couch. I rush to grab my pants and shirt and slip into the bathroom that adjoins his office and the spare bedroom to dress while Gavin tugs his pants up his legs and yanks his T-shirt over his head.
I struggle into my own clothes, my face on fire, eyes wild, and the rest of me ridiculously sweaty, likely from the embarrassment. I feel like a teenager who’s sneaking around, except it’s not a parent I’m worried about catching me, it’s a nine-year-old. I can hear Gavin consoling Peyton from the other side of the door.
I make sure my hair isn’t a mess and that my clothes are smoothed before I open it. “Is everything okay?” I ask, forcing a smile and hoping I don’t look as guilty as I feel.
“I didn’t know where you were. You weren’t in the living room and usually that’s where Daddy is after he puts me to bed.” Her fingers go to her mouth. “I had a dream that the angels had come to take Harley back, and this time they took you with them.”
“Oh, sweetie, that’s not going to happen.” Gavin wraps his arms around her.
“Why are you in your office? It’s late for working,” she mumbles into his stomach.