Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
GRAYSON
S he’s a virgin? A virgin? Who the hell is a virgin in this day and age at twenty-eight years old? She’s not religious, is she? No, she wouldn’t have done all that other stuff with me if she was, right?
I glance down at my dick, still eager and ready for Abby. It didn’t get the memo that there’s no way I can do this. I cannot be her first. Not the guy who’s leaving tomorrow. How much of a shithead would I be if I took her virginity and left town the next day?
She sits up, pulling the sheet over her, and leans against the headboard. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
I shake my head, not sure what I even mean by the action. My thoughts are swimming too fast inside my brain.
“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” she continues, almost as if she’s trying to convince herself. “It’s an old-fashioned concept, anyway.”
She’s not wrong, but I still can’t help but feel like she should wait for someone else. Someone important. Someone who will stick around and be here for her. Someone here in Crescent Pass.
Even as I think it, everything in me rejects it. No guy here would be good enough for her.
“I…” I drag my hand through my hair, hating this. “I can’t take your virginity.”
Her cheeks flush, lips flattening. “Why?”
My fingers grip the back of my neck, nails digging in, forcing myself not to reach for her. How the fuck can I make this better? “Abby…”
And just like that, she’s on edge. Her nostrils flare, and the change that comes over her would be magnificent to watch if I wasn’t caught in the crosshairs. “Seriously, why? Am I going to be spoiled goods for the next guy or something?”
I recoil. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then how did you mean it?”
There’s a tightness in her expression I hate. “It should be with someone important.”
“You are important.”
There’s a hitch in my chest, but I push it aside. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” I force myself to say.
“I know.” She chuckles, an edge of bitterness to it. “Trust me, I know.”
“Then what if you meet someone and you regret—”
“Meet someone? Who am I going to meet? All the droves of guys waiting to get with me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“This was supposed to be casual,” I tell her. “A fun hook-up. Taking your virginity is a hell of a lot more serious than that.”
Her face reddens further. “Fine. I’ll go get it out of the way.”
She removes the sheet and scoots off the bed, grabbing her bra.
I watch her wrestle it on, then slide her panties up her legs. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get laid so you don’t have to worry about being the first.”
My muscles tense. “That’s not funny.” I can’t help the growly way it comes out, but she doesn’t seem to take notice.
“I’m not laughing,” she replies coolly, picking her dress up off the floor.
I force my jaw to unclench. She wouldn’t actually… No, of course she wouldn’t.
She taps her pointer to her chin. “Hmm, who do you think would help me out on such short notice?”
“Okay, I get it,” I grit out, but she ignores me.
She snaps her fingers. “Oh, I know. How about Greg? He’s always looking for some action.”
Greg? Fucking Greg ? The guy who hits on every girl with a pulse?
I take the dress from her and throw it behind me. “You’re not doing that.”
She meets my eye, all challenge. “Why?”
“Because you’re mine.”
Silence hangs heavy in the air as she stares at me, her breaths picking up in speed. Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. It was just… instinctual.
I turn, scrubbing my palm over my jaw, and sigh deeply. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not mine.”
“No, I liked it.” She steps closer, her fingertips trailing up my arm, leaving pleasurable shivers in their wake. “I want to be yours.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. She cannot say stuff like that to me. The caveman part of my brain lights up, telling me to make her mine for real, to fuck her until she never wants another man but me. That strange possessive urge I’ve felt around her the past few days pulses faster and faster.
This wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. This was meant to be an easygoing fling. Not have my heart pounding out of my chest as her touch moves up to my shoulder, her body close enough I can feel her heat.
“Make me yours,” she murmurs. “I want it to be you.”
I can’t focus on anything but the way her breath whispers across my skin, the soft press of her lips to my jaw, up and over to my mouth. The gentle tease of her lips on mine, gradually growing more urgent. It’s over when she groans sweetly, my resistance crumbling. I can’t deny her anything.
I want to be yours.
I want it to be you.
The words play over in my mind as I take control of the kiss. In the depths of my soul, I want it to be me, too. Even if I’m a bastard for doing it.
She kisses me back hungrily, sweeping her fingers through my hair, her eagerness revving me up.
“Abby…” I try to grab onto my reasoning from before, but it’s just out of reach. I’m already being pulled under by her, an innocent siren who doesn’t know the power she’s gained over me.
“Please, Grayson.” Her hands wrap around my shoulders, drawing me into her.
Then again, maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“Are you sure you want this?” My voice is shakier than I intended, something about this feeling so momentous.
“Yes.”
Her complete conviction is what breaks the last of my resistance. I unhook her bra and strip her panties off, then lay her on the bed. I take my time at her chest, sucking on her nipples until she’s curling herself around me in response, one leg hitching over my hip. My dick rubs against her core, reminding me why we’re here.
I bring a hand between us and softly circle her pussy, entering her with two fingers and working her up until her hips are rocking, wanting more. “You ready?”
She nods, some of her bravado receding, but there’s still so much trust in her gaze, I can barely stand it. What have I done to earn that kind of trust?
And will she ever look at me that way again after I leave?
I rub my dick along her seam, once, twice, holding myself back. I need to be careful, to not rush this. I want this to be amazing for her.
Slowly, I feed myself into her, going so slow it’s a special torture. She’s so tight, the pressure incredible, but I don’t want to hurt her.
“You okay?” I ask, pausing to let her get accustomed to my size.
She nods, her neck arching off the pillow as my hips jerk of their own accord, wanting so badly to thrust already. “I’m good. Everything’s good.”
I bend down, kissing along the shell of her ear. “I think we can do better than good.”
Her chuckle turns into a moan as I push in until I’m seated to the hilt, then draw nearly all the way out.
As I slowly fill her again, I ask, “That okay?”
“Yes. Good. Great. Amazing. Keep doing that.”
She shifts under me, her hips tilting into mine, and I let her find the angle she wants, starting up a steady pace. I rock into her, over and over, the pleasure increasing, and as I look down at where we’re joined, I’m transfixed. There’s something incredibly sexy about watching her pussy take my cock, especially knowing I’m the only one to do this with her. It probably makes me a sick bastard, but I don’t care at the moment. She’s mine. She said she wanted to be mine.
I glance up, meeting her eyes, and as our gazes connect, I swear something passes between us. A connection I didn’t know was possible. I’ve never felt this with another woman.
I shut my eyes, an icy river of fear washing over me for a split second. That’s not what this is supposed to be. This connection… nothing good can come of it. Not when I’m leaving tomorrow.
“You like it when I fuck you?” I ask, being purposely crass. This is just sex. Nothing more.
She moans an assent, and when I open my eyes again, I concentrate on the way her breasts bounce gently to the rhythm I’ve set, the way her pussy clenches my cock, the scent of sex in the air. I focus on my own breaths, harsh in the quiet of the room, the soft slap of our skin meeting, how incredibly smooth her waist is where I grip it.
I don’t look in her eyes again. I’m afraid to, if I’m being honest with myself. I don’t know what will be reflected there. What I want to be there. And what might not be there at all. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Or maybe it was one-sided.
I lean forward, angling my face out of her line of sight, and pick up my pace, enjoying the gasps she makes, the way she clutches at me. Putting my weight on one arm, I reach a hand between us and rub her clit, concentrating on making her come. After a few minutes of effort, her rhythm goes erratic, her hips out of sync as she orgasms in a long groan, her arousal coating me. I follow soon after, letting myself go, gripping her tightly to me so she takes all I give her. All I can give her. This is it.
Pulling out, I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. What was that? That moment of connection? I imagined it, right? That kind of thing doesn’t actually happen.
Abby shifts to her side, facing me, and spreads her hand over my chest. “You okay?”
Shit. I should be the one asking her that. “Yeah, of course. You good?”
She leans in to kiss me. “More than good.”
“You’re not sore?”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
She snuggles into my side and I instinctively wrap an arm around her, listening to her breathing even out until I’m pretty sure she’s asleep. I carefully disengage and head into the bathroom to clean up, then brace my hands against the counter, staring at myself in the mirror.
I liked sleeping with Abby. Really fucking liked it. More than liked it. And even with forcing myself to focus on what we were doing and not the emotion behind it…
I shy away from that thought. I don’t want to think about that right now. Don’t want to think about leaving tomorrow. Don’t want to think about how I slept with an amazing woman knowing I can’t give her what she deserves.
I grip the counter harder. We both knew what we were getting into when we agreed to do this. This shouldn’t come as a surprise now.
So why do I feel like the worst piece of shit?