Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(63)
“Go away, Sweet,” I growl. “I’m not letting you and your wicked ways in.”
I hear her laughing at me and then it’s silent, so I assume she finally heeded me and went back in bed.
God, I’m so freaking horny I can’t stand it.
Me… Savannah Shepherd, the woman who can count the number of men she has been with on half of her right hand. The woman who didn’t know multiple orgasms were possible. The woman who had never had a man in her mouth.
So freakin’ horny.
After two more days of bed rest, where Gavin catered to my every need, he finally let me up and about. He wouldn’t let me do anything but sit on the couch, forcing soup and the antibiotics down my throat. Two more days after that, when he hadn’t heard my cough for at least eighteen hours, he proclaimed that I was “on the mend.”
On the mend, my ass. I am fully mended. Sure, I have a few more days of antibiotics left, which I will dutifully take, but I’m feeling fine and like I said… horny as hell.
I can hear Gavin up in his office, that damn chair he sits in squeaking and groaning periodically. I don’t dare disturb him up there, because that’s his private space and I know his mind is elsewhere.
Deciding to occupy my time, I mop the kitchen floor, dust the furniture, and do our laundry. When I finish, I’m not the slightest bit tired and slightly perturbed that Gavin hasn’t come down once to check on me. According to him, I was practically dying just two days ago.
Did I also mention I’m sexually frustrated?
With a determined straightening of my shoulders, I grab the vacuum and haul it up to the second floor. I walk into Gavin’s bedroom, unwind the cord from the back, and plug it in. I start on the far side of the room, closest to the bed, and start cleaning the rug. I start counting… slowly to myself, One, two, three…
I push and pull on the vacuum, bending to get it under the bed. Four, five, six, seven…
A few more strokes near the nightstand. Eight, nine, ten…
“What the f*ck, Sweet?” I hear Gavin before I see him. Turning, I watch as he stalks over to the wall plug and pulls the cord out. The vacuum winds down to utter silence.
Ten seconds. Impressive.
“What?” I ask, my eyes wide and innocent.
“You’re vacuuming. You should be resting.”
“I’m not sick.”
“You’re still taking antibiotics. You’re sick.”
“Am not,” I tell him as I drop the vacuum handle, and it falls to the floor. Reaching down to the hem of the long sleeved T-shirt I’m wearing, I lift it up and pull it over my head, dropping it carelessly on the floor.
Gavin watches me intently, swallows hard, and asks, “What are you doing?”
“Seducing you,” I say matter-of-factly.
His eyes roam over the peach, satin bra I had carefully chosen after my shower a few hours ago. I personally know it happens to go well with the olive tone of my skin, plus it plumps my breasts up nicely.
My hands go to the buttons on my jeans, and I shimmy out of them, kicking them over my bare feet. Gavin’s eyes feast on the matching peach panties I have on. Just to keep his attention there, I bring my hand up to my stomach, idly stroking the skin there with my fingertips. Then I drop my hand, skirting one finger under the top elastic band.
“You should be in bed,” Gavin says thickly, his eyes pinned to my hand as it sinks lower into my underwear.
“I plan to be,” I tell him throatily, begging him to move toward me.
The most I get is he drops the vacuum cord from his hand and balls his fists up tight. With a sigh, he says, “Savannah… baby… you need to rest. You have bronchitis. You don’t need to be cleaning, and you sure as hell don’t need to be wasting your precious strength f*cking me.”
I’m losing him. I thought the minute I stripped, he would be mine, helpless to fight the lust that I know I can induce. What I didn’t count on was for him to be a caring, upstanding man that doesn’t want to take advantage of what I’m offering at the risk of possibly hurting me.
Stupid man.
Taking two steps, I reach the edge of the bed and crawl onto it. I position myself in the center and rise up with my elbows supporting my weight, which I happen to know thrusts my breasts outward in a provocative fashion. “Baby… filthy boy… I feel fine. I feel great, as a matter of fact, except for this aching I have right between my legs. I need you.”
“Christ,” Gavin mutters, taking half a step toward me.
“If you don’t come over here right now and give me a massive orgasm, I’m going to have to take care of myself.”
“You wouldn’t,” he declares officiously.
“Watch me,” I tell him boldly, and my hand snakes back down into my panties again… way, way down.
I touch myself with my index finger, stunned to find myself unbelievably wet. Pushing further, I lightly touch my clit. My hips fly off the bed, and a strangled moan comes out of mouth.
Gavin is on me in a second, ripping my hand from between my legs and crushing me with his body. His lips are on mine, his tongue deep in my mouth. He kisses me with a wild, pent-up energy, like a tiger being released from a cage, that hasn’t eaten for a month, and there’s a nice, juicy steak waiting for him on the outside.