Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(64)
“Fuck, Savannah.” He practically shoves a growl down my throat. “You drive me crazy.”
“That was the plan,” I moan, pumping my hips upward to rub against his hardness.
Gavin lifts his mouth from mine and looks at me carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him with a smile, kissing his chin, his jaw, and flexing my hips again.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promises me.
“Don’t you dare,” I growl back at him.
He gives me a feral smile and plunges his tongue back in my mouth.
The bedroom is semi-dark, the light from the TV casts flickering blue shades over our bodies as I lay in Gavin’s arms. One hand is stroking my back, the other my hair.
We stayed in bed all afternoon, testing our spirits and our stamina, stopping to nap, once to eat, and then going at it again. Ten minutes ago, Gavin came inside of me supremely hard, nearly dislocating my hips with his last violent thrust, and then kissed me softly for another two minutes. When he finally lifted off my body and rolled to the side, he said, “I’m done. You’ve depleted me. I’ve got nothing left for you, love.”
I giggled and rolled into him, placing my head in the crook of his shoulder and my arm across his waist. His own arms gathered me in close, smoothing over my back and my hair, and I felt more cherished than I ever had in my whole life.
“I’m almost done with the manuscript,” Gavin says absently.
“That’s wonderful,” I tell him, threading my leg in between his, enjoying the way his coarse hair rubs up against my smooth skin.
“Will you read it?”
Lifting my head up, I look at him with excited eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Of course, I’m serious,” Gavin says with surprise that I’d even ask. “Your opinion matters to me.”
My fingers idly move over Gavin’s stomach, stroking the rolls and peaks of his pecs, letting them bump along the ridges etched in his stomach which involuntarily contracted when I touch him. I let my fingers twirl in the dark hair that starts just below his belly button, and I want to inch my hand down further, but Gavin seems to think I’ve broken him this night.
“What are you going to do? Now that you’re finished?” I ask him hesitantly, because we haven’t spoken of a future past his manuscript.
Gavin came to the Outer Banks to escape the spiraling pit of destruction he had let himself sink in to. He came specifically to write a book, and now that was almost done. Now… he has no reason to stay.
“I’m not sure,” he says carefully. “I have to go back to England at some point to take care of the house. Get Charlie’s things.”
Gavin had told me that his house in Turnbridge Wells… the one he lived in with Amanda and Charlie, had just recently sold. While his dad had a lasting power of attorney and was able to handle the details of the sale, all of Gavin’s and Charlie’s belongings had been packed up and moved to his father’s house for temporary storage.
“But, there’s no rush to do that,” he continues. “My dad said I can keep the stuff there for as long as I want. Until I decide where I want to live permanently.”
I’m silent, not knowing what to say. What I really want to say is, “Don’t leave. Stay here with me forever and let’s build something together.”
But my anti-heroine tendencies creep up at the most inopportune times, and I remain silent. Gavin remains silent too, and I take that as utter proof that he really doesn’t have any inkling as to what he wants to do. Time ticks by, and my eyes travel to the TV, which has been muted. An old re-run of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is on, and I amuse myself for a bit, trying to guess what crazy and snarky things Buffy might be saying at this very moment.
“Sweet?” Gavin calls to me quietly.
“Yes, Filthy,” I answer demurely and although I can’t see it, I can feel him smile.
“What if I told you I wanted to stay here… with you?”
My head pops up, and I angle my shoulders so I can face him. “Are you serious?”
“Maybe,” he says with a sly smile. “Depends on what your answer is.”
Rolling over, I flip my leg over Gavin’s and sit up straight while I straddle his lap. His hands come up to rest on my thighs, and I don’t have one bit of embarrassed shyness over my complete nudity on display before him. He’s licked every bit of modesty away.
“Gavin… I don’t have any explanation for the connection we’ve made these last several weeks, but I do know this… I don’t care if this seems fast, or furious, or crazy. I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life, and it would make me so happy if you stayed. Deliriously happy, in fact.”
His hands rise up from my thighs and he cups my breasts in them, using his thumbs to gently circle over my nipples. His eyes watch the movement of his hands, and he seems lost in thought… pensive and a bit unsure.
Maybe I overstepped my bounds. Maybe I said too much… seemed too excited. Maybe I’ve turned him off to the idea of staying with me, and he’s trying to figure a way out of this mess he just created.
“Charlie’s in England,” he says as his hands still against me.
“Yes,” I acknowledge. “He is.”