Chapter 13 I’m Not A Psycho
Claire
Our bodies are still tangled, and I attempt to catch my breath.
It’s strange how you can go so long without seeing or touching a person, and it feels like no time has elapsed at all.
Except it has. Something’s different about him now.
Not in the sex department. No. He still seems to know exactly what to do to make me come completely undone.
How to cast a lustful haze over all of my decisions.
And maybe that’s what this is, but maybe not.
His spontaneity tonight took me completely by surprise.
The daring stares and chuckles against my skin were an entirely new side of him I’ve never seen before.
I liked it, and I wonder if, given the chance, he’d continue to prove me wrong and let me know him completely.
Or if I’m just hungover from his dick and not thinking clearly.
Honestly, it could be either one.
“You’re crushing me,” I tease, shoving him off.
Chuckling against my neck, his rough beard tickles my sensitive skin. “My bad,” he says, rolling away and out of the bed. I watch as he crosses my room.
His strong body and tight ass stir something deep inside me, and I realize I’m in trouble. Big fucking trouble. Slamming my eyes shut, I hit my head against the pillow.
Do I regret what just happened? No.
Now that I’ve been reminded what sex with him is like, will I be able to stop? Probably not.
Has he really changed? Possibly.
Am I fucked? Definitely.
Exhaling, I sit up and attempt to tame my hair.
“Power’s still out,” he calls.
“Seriously?”
Climbing out of my bed, the waves of pink are still churning outside my bedroom window, and I fiddle with the lamp next to my bed, but it doesn’t turn on.
“You didn’t believe me?” he says, causing me to turn.
“The bathroom light was on the brink of going out the other day. I was just making sure,” I explain, rounding my bed. He finds his underwear and pulls them on, snapping the waistband.
Tall, lean, muscular—he truly looks like he was created in a lab.
Dark hair covers his chest and face. The lion tattoo that is an ode to his team was once the only thing to cover his left thigh, but it’s now surrounded by large flowers and greenery, creating a sleeve that trails down his leg.
The bulge of his pierced dick is perfectly outlined under his tight boxer briefs.
The images on the internet didn’t lie. He’s somehow more attractive than he was before he left, and I have to force myself to look away.
Yeah, I’m definitely fucked.
Walking out of my bedroom, I find my phone where we left it and blush at the thought of what took place against the wall in front of me.
How hot it was when Everett picked me up and ate me out with my legs locked around his shoulders. He felt so fucking strong underneath me, and I liked it. I liked it a lot—a little too much.
Fuck, I want to do that again.
Grabbing my phone, I swipe up, turning on my flashlight and walking back toward my bathroom. A stream of texts from Raph litter my screen, most of them qualifying as some sort of harassment. What a dick.
“You good?” Everett asks when I cross the threshold of my bedroom door.
“Oh yeah. Raph can’t let it go that I dumped him. I think we bruised his neverending ego.”
“What’s he saying?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter,” he says, stepping towards me, but I turn and head into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
It doesn’t matter. I refuse to waste any of my energy worrying what he thinks of me. I have too much to unpack about the other parts of my day and night.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks from right outside the door.
“I’m fine,” I shout, laughing. “I promise. Would you please let me pee in peace?”
“Oh, right…um…” The sound of his footsteps grows farther away, and my shoulders relax.
Massaging my temples, I grab my phone and tap through the steps of deleting Raph’s texts and blocking the douchebag’s number.
I stand and wash my hands.
One man dealt with, but now what do I do with the one still in my bedroom?
Part of me wouldn’t be surprised if I opened the door and found myself alone.
He and I never spent the night with each other, so why would tonight be any different?
Whatever feelings I’m having about this situation are present because he fucked all the sense from my head.
I fix my bralette over my tits and run my fingers through my hair. Exhaling, I open the door, bracing myself for an empty bedroom, but instead I’m met with a half-dressed Everett.
“Oh, you’re still here,” I say.
“Uh, yeah. I was just getting dressed.”
“Oh, okay,” disappointment settles in my chest.
He has no reason to stay, so why do I want him to?
Walking over to my dresser, I open the top drawer and pull out a thong. Looping my legs through the lace, I pull it up over my hips, and when I turn around, he’s standing there, unmoved.
“You know you could stay over,” I suggest, the words spilling from my mouth before I can stop them.
“Really?” There’s an eagerness in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s feeling the same as me. Like maybe he’s wondering where this might go if we gave it a chance this time. Maybe he’s curious too.
“I just meant with the snow storm and the blackout. It’s probably a nightmare out there.”
“Oh, right. The weather.” His hands push into his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels. “You sure?”
Goddammit. Why did I say that?
“Yeah,” I try a little more enthusiastically. I walk over and place my phone on the nightstand and crawl into bed. He starts to walk toward the door.
“Wait. Where are you going?” I ask, snuggling under the comforter and into my pillow.
“I figured you’d want me to crash on the couch. Plus, I don’t want to wake you in the morning. I’m going to need to run by my place before meeting with the team doctor tomorrow for my shoulder.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I say, patting the bed next to me. “I was planning to get to the studio early before rehearsals officially start. We can share.”
Tilting his head to the side, the corner of his mouth tips upward. “Okay.”
Pulling off his sweatpants again, he drops them by the bed and joins me under the covers.
The mattress shifts under his weight, and he fluffs the pillows behind him. “Do you have another pillow?”
“Another pillow?”
“Yeah, I like to sleep with three.”
Three pillows? Is this some primadonna star athlete shit?
“Three?”
“I mean, it’s how I usually sleep, but if you don’t have one it’s fine,” he says, adding a bit of mopiness for dramatic effect. “I’ll manage.”
“Top shelf in the closet, princess,” I jest, giggling. “Can you grab it, or do you need me to fetch it for you?”
He chuckles loudly, throwing the covers off of him. “Is three that big of a deal?” he asks, padding across the room toward my closet.
“I barely need one, let alone three. It’s a little extra.”
“What does barely one mean?” He disappears into my closet. “It’s dark as shit in here? Which side?”
“Top left. Behind the door.” I pause. “I usually push the pillow I’m using out of the way and just sleep on the mattress.”
“You don’t sleep with a pillow?”
There’s a crash, and I hear him curse under his breath.
“You good in there?” I yell, sitting up.
“Fine. Just knocked some shoes down.”
There’s another pause.
“I do sleep with one, just not the whole night.”
“How did I not know this about you?” he asks, walking back into the room, holding a pillow.
“We never actually made it to the sleeping portion of the night.”
“I guess not.” He rolls his shoulder and shakes his arm. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think the pain meds are finally wearing off. When I reached up to get the pillow, a sharp pain shot down my arm, and now I can’t seem to shake it.”
He tosses the pillow into the bed and then rubs the opposite hand over the injured joint as he walks the last few steps.
“Probably shouldn’t have lifted me like you did earlier. I’m sorry.”
“You gotta stop apologizing.” He pauses before climbing on top of the mattress. “Do you have any ibuprofen?”
“In my purse. Near the front door.”
I watch him walk back into the dark living room. Apologizing has always been a habit I couldn’t break. I’m not sure why it pops out without a second thought; it just always has. Probably some pathetic tendency to want to make everyone around me comfortable.
“You mind if I get it out myself?” he asks, returning and holding my purse up in the air.
“Go ahead. Promise there’s nothing exciting in there.”
Chuckling, he opens the zipper and begins to walk towards me but trips on one of my boots in the middle of the floor and sends the bag into the air. “Fuck,” he yells, catching his balance as the sound of all of my belongings scattering across the wood floor fills my room.
“You okay?”
“Shit, yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry. Can you hand me my phone?”
“It’s fine.” I climb out of bed with both of our cell phones. “Here, let me help you.”
Turning on the flashlights, we begin picking up the contents and place it all back in my bag. After a moment, he pauses. I flash the light in his direction to find his lips curved upward. “Are these…trading cards?” he asks, gesturing to the three cards strewn across the floor.
Oh, fuck.
“Yeah, but I was given them tonight at the game. I don’t collect them or anything. I’m not a psycho.”
He picks up all three from the ground, scanning them with the light coming from his phone. “I had no idea you were so obsessed with me.” He grins and flashes them in my direction.
“Am not.”
“Then why do you have three trading cards with my face on them?”
“Coincidence.” I shrug.
“You can admit it.”
“I’m not obsessed with you,” I deadpan. “They were handing them out at the game. I obviously got you so many times because there aren’t too many noteworthy Crowns players.”
“Not true, but glad to know you think I’m noteworthy.” He chuckles, and his shoulders move up and down, causing his laugh to turn to a wince.
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he says, returning them to my bag.
We stand, and I hand him the small bottle of ibuprofen.
Setting my purse on the nightstand, I climb back into bed.
The lid of the plastic bottle scrapes as he opens it, and the rattling of the pills fills the silence.
He dumps them into his hand and throws them into his mouth, swallowing them dry.
“You don’t want some water?”
“Nah,” he says, climbing back in to join me.
We both settle into the bed on our respective sides. Disappointment starts to creep in as his breathing becomes steady.
“Hey, Ev?” I whisper.
“Yeah?” His voice is a little groggy, and I find it endearing.
“Thanks for tonight.”
The sound of him turning over causes me to turn as well.
“Are you thanking me for sex?” he asks, his eyes finding mine in the dimly lit space.
“No…I just meant…I don’t know. Being with you really turned my night around and…I don’t know…”
“You’re welcome for the sex.”
“Good night.” I giggle, rolling back over.
“Night.”
After a few minutes, his breathing begins to even again, and I watch the pink that’s still swirling outside my window, reflecting on everything that happened today and still unsure what it all means.