Chapter 26 #2
“Probably not,” I admit, tangling one hand in her hair.
She giggles.
I wonder what she’d say if I explained why I came so fast with her. Before I can give it any more thought, Wren starts stroking my erection. Slowly, but speed barely matters at this point.
I rip the condom wrapper open with my teeth so I don’t have to stop touching her.
“Let me do it,” Wren says, taking it from me.
I hand it to her, fighting the urge to thrust as she rolls it on me. As soon as it’s in place, I crawl over her. Kiss her, gently at first, then rougher. I’m still on edge from earlier. Still … jealous.
I know I am, and it’s not the first time it’s happened.
I was jealous when she called me to brag about her boyfriend.
I was jealous when she went upstairs at the party last weekend.
And I was jealous when Brett Nichols was talking to her.
If he’d simply said hello to her, then kept walking, I would have been jealous.
And that’s a massive fucking problem because Wren Kensington isn’t mine. She’ll never be mine. She’ll wind up with a guy with a trust fund and a future that isn’t a dead end, who drives a car manufactured in this century.
“I need you,” she whispers, wrapping her legs around my waist. Squirming and shifting under me, trying to take my dick.
I roll us both on our sides, lift her leg, tug her thong to one side, and thrust. She gasps, spine arching as she adjusts to the invasion.
I don’t give her much time to, sliding out and then filling her again.
Getting off on her needy whimpers as much as the tight clasp of her cunt.
She called me while out with her ex-boyfriend.
Kissed me back after going into that bedroom.
Possessiveness streaks through me. I don’t think she’ll call or kiss another guy after this.
I think that means I have her in a way neither of them did, and that’s enough. That will have to be enough.
I don’t think I last five minutes, but Wren comes first. Comes loudly, so it’s good her family is out of town.
I flop on my back, breathing heavily as my body tingles with the aftermath of the best release I’ve experienced since December.
Roll off the mattress once I catch my breath, walking into the bathroom.
I’m blinded by marble as I flip on a light.
There’s a huge bathtub, a glass shower, and two sinks.
I shake my head, grabbing a tissue to take care of the condom, and then wash my hands. The soap smells good.
Wren walks in as I’m drying my hands on a fluffy towel.
I was too impatient to take off her bra before sex, but she’s naked now.
She walks to the toilet, pees, flushes, and then uses the sink next to me.
I alternate between glancing at the curve of her ass and her boobs.
It’s all right there, and I’ve never had the time or space to explore her body the way I want to.
I know I’m getting hard again, even before Wren glances down. Rather than impressed, she appears smug. She should, I guess. I’m reacting to her.
“Want to take a shower?” she asks.
I swallow, physically pained by the next words that have to come out. “We can’t. I don’t have another condom.”
“I have some.”
Wren pulls a drawer open, revealing a familiar box.
It’s the same brand I always buy, which is convenient.
The box is open, but there aren’t many missing.
She grabs one, hands it to me, and then walks over to the shower and turns the spray on.
The water heats up instantly, steam collecting on the glass.
She steps inside the stall, leaving the door open an inch.
I follow a few seconds later, condom curled in my fist. I’m glad she had some, and I also sort of hate it.
I pin her against the white tiles, kissing her again. Biting her bottom lip, then soothing the sting with my tongue. The shower is full of steam by now, coating our bodies with a warm sheen. My dick is poking her stomach, throbbing and insistent.
I suck in a ragged breath, then open my mouth to make sure she’s ready for another round.
Before I can say a word, Wren reaches for my right hand, lifting it. I don’t realize why until she peers at my knuckles. One did split, and she kisses it so lightly that I barely feel the brush of her lips.
“Did I scare you?” I ask.
She straightens, expression confused as her eyes meet mine. “What?”
“Earlier.” I swallow. “When I hit him. Did that … scare you?”
“No,” she says swiftly. “Of course not.”
“I know I shouldn’t have. And I’d never—I’d never lose control like that with you. I need you to know that.”
“I know that, Sawyer.”
There’s nothing except sincerity and a little surprise on her face.
I nod, relieved by her reaction. “Okay. Good.”
“You’re the only person I—” She clears her throat. “I’ve never told anyone else what happened with Third. I-I trust you.”
I exhale, bracing a hand against the tiles beside her head. “My dad embezzled money from the force. That’s what he went to prison for. Nichols’s dad was chief when it happened. My dad made his look like a fool, got him fired. That’s why—part of why—he hates me so much.”
“Why else?” she asks quietly.
I half smile. “I beat him out for the starting pitcher spot.”
“I didn’t know you play baseball.”
“Used to. I don’t anymore.”
She bites her bottom lip. “I didn’t flirt back. If I had … it would have only been because you were there with Macie.”
“I wasn’t there with Macie.”
“So, you’re not …”
“I’ve never touched her, Wren.”
I slide my palm down her ribs, over the curve of her hip, and then between her thighs, fingering her slick, swollen pussy. She moans softly, head tilting back against the tiles.
The tip of my cock is leaking; I’m so hard.
But I don’t open the condom. Don’t end the torture.
I rub her clit and then fuck her with my fingers, smiling when her moans come louder and closer together.
It’s fast and messy, my hand picking up pace as she grinds against my palm.
But there’s something soft about it too—maybe because I know I just let her in a little more despite my resolve that I wouldn’t.
It’s only July. What will my willpower look like by late August? I’m the one who will get left behind when Wren goes to California.
She comes hard, again, squeezing the shit out of my fingers. Blinking at me with a dazed, sated expression.
I smirk, tipping her chin up with my left hand. “Not used to coming twice?”
Wren glares, batting my hand away. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know.” I press closer, letting her feel how hard I am. “And so do you.”
Her hands brush the damp hair off my forehead.
Her fingers trail down the side of my face, thumb stroking the scar that splits my chin.
Her lips part, like she’s going to say something, but then her other hand grabs the chain around my neck, using it to jerk my head down.
She rises up on her tiptoes, kissing me again.
This—we—won’t last.
And I’m terrified by the sudden realization of how much I’d like it to.