Chapter 4
Lauralee
“Should we stay up or go to bed?” I ask as if we do this all the time, as if . . . we’re a couple who’s had dinner, watched TV, and hung out together like it’s normal. We’re not, but oddly, it feels comfortable in a similar way.
Not that I know firsthand.
I’ve had boyfriends, but nothing that got to the living together stage.
“Definitely bed.” After releasing a big yawn, he rubs his eyes and towels off again.
We’re both in dry, cozy clothes—me in a cropped and fitted tank top that matches a pair of pajama shorts and him in another pair of boxer briefs.
Charcoal gray this time. I can’t imagine he brought many pairs since he’s only visiting for the weekend.
I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I don’t so much as get toothpaste on the bristles when another appears at my side, ready to be loaded. Yeah, this is feeling very couple-y all of a sudden. But it doesn’t bother me.
Maybe because it’s Baylor, and I’ve known him for so long. But I didn’t expect to go from barely acquaintances to brushing our teeth together. That’s quite a leap.
The swoosh of bristles fills the void in conversation, and a shy smile crosses Baylor’s lips when we accidentally make eye contact in the mirror.
I smile, too, because this is weird and fun and kind of wonderful in its own way.
Sure, he’s got this whole player act down to a T, but sharing this with him, like the sandwich downstairs, and even when I held the ice pack to his head earlier, gives me glimpses of what’s convinced me is the real him.
Maybe he’s found in the quieter moments versus the boisterous ones he’s known for.
There’s an appeal to both sides, but I’m becoming partial to this one.
I rinse my mouth and step aside from the sink for him to do the same.
Swiping a layer of balm over my lips, I watch this man, all fit and cut, hard and handsome, funny, and he knows how to charm.
I know that much. Would I kiss him, though?
It’s not the worst thought in the world.
I bet he’s a great kisser and even better with his hands.
We silently move around each other as if the habits of our nighttime routine have already set in. He steps out for me to finish up, then we swap places. I twist my damp hair up in a scrunchie, already knowing it will be unruly in the morning. I’ll deal with it then.
The lamp on the other nightstand provides an ambience that two friends wouldn’t typically need when going to bed. It’s noted he made an effort to turn off the harsh overhead light while I was in the bathroom.
I smile as I slip under the covers and lie back on my freshly fluffed pillow.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to woo me.
But I’m not falling into a trap of mushy feelings at this hour.
I was lucky enough to get a few hours’ sleep before he showed up, but that doesn’t mean my heart and mind won’t play tricks on me.
The door opens, and I look over.
I don’t mean to stare, but damn. I’m definitely inspired. He makes it easy to forget my better senses. “Hi,” I say for no other reason than to distract him from my gawking.
He slips into bed next to me and looks over. His smile is relaxed but genuine, his eyes showing signs of needing sleep by how the lids are starting to hang a bit, but something in the blues makes me feel like he’s right where he wants to be. “Hi, how are you?”
My smile grows. He’s always been handsome, but something about seeing him so relaxed and at ease in his skin is special. “I’m good. How about you, Greene?” I ask, not as tired as I thought I was now that he’s here.
He hums and lies back, his eyes redirecting to the ceiling. “I’m . . . why does this feel like we do it all the time?”
It’s got to be the hour. Who has the energy for pretenses at four o’clock? “Do what exactly?” Twisting my lips to the side, I try my best to restrain the smirk that wants to come out to play.
I sense he’s on to me when he chuckles. “Do you always flirt with men who break into your apartment at ungodly hours and get in your bed, or am I the lucky guy?”
Am I flirting with him?
Maybe . . .
“What? I can’t have some fun in this extremely awkward situation?”
“That’s just it. This doesn’t feel awkward at all to me.” His smile doesn’t fade but hangs on and grows wider. He even rolls to the side to face me as if a casual look out of the corners of his eyes wasn’t enough.
Stop overthinking this. It’s just fun among friends. That’s all. I roll to my side to face him because caution was thrown out quite a while ago. “What does it feel like?” Fine, I’m flirting. Doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with the man.
“Natural.”
I could read so much into that answer, but instead, I stare into his eyes, choosing to spend my time appreciating him. “For me, too,” I whisper.
He reaches to run the back of his fingers over my cheek, causing my heart to skip a beat. When he pulls his hand back, he says, “I should have called you after the reception.”
“Why is that?”
“Because there was something—a spark, a gut instinct, something firing between us that night, and I was too stupid to follow up on it.”
“No following required.” I slide my gaze down to his chest. This feels so intimate, more than seeing each other naked. “You didn’t owe me anything.”
“I know. I thought about you, though . . .” He tips his head down until he catches my eyes again. “When I was back in New York.”
“What did you think?”
“I should have kissed you behind the barn.” Not sure why that sounds so illicit and sexy, but we’re both grinning. Keeping his voice low between us, he asks, “Do you believe in second chances, Lauralee?”
Although my heart stopped beating earlier, it now starts racing.
My lips part, providing space for much-needed air in the moment.
Before I reply, I think about tonight and the detours this journey between us has taken.
Do I want a second chance with Baylor? To pick up where we left off more than two years earlier? “When you say second chance?—”
“I want to kiss you. ”
Boom. He drops the truth like a bomb between us, and whatever I say is going to detonate one way or the other. It’s all relying on whatever I want and what I say next. Who am I kidding? It’s a kiss, not sex. “I’d be open to that.”
His cheeks become uneven as one side rides higher, and he lifts onto his elbow. His palm returns this time, cupping my face and holding me still as I study everything about this man’s face in the span of the two seconds it takes him to home in on me.
The dusting of scruff covering his chin.
The way his eyes fixate on my mouth.
And how the warmth of his hand is calming as he closes in.
He grazes his lips against mine before pulling back to look into my eyes once more, as if needing permission is all that’s stopping him. Should I be kissing my best friend’s brother? Probably not. Do I want to? God yes.
I slide my hand around his neck and whisper, “What are you waiting for, Greene?”
“I’ve wanted to do this all night.” He smirks just before his mouth crashes into mine.
Throwing my arms around him, I hold him close, so close until the weight of his chest lands on mine.
His lips caress mine as his hand still graces my face, then lowers to my neck.
Gentle pressure at the base of my neck has me squirming in need of more body contact.
I move my hips toward him, which encourages him to shift his over me.
His length is hard, pressed against my thigh as he starts to seek relief. Feeling him already turned on by me, by simply a kiss and then deepening it, has me needy for more.
A girl can change her mind, can’t she?
Dipping his mouth to my shoulder, he kisses me there, and his nose follows, taking a deep breath of me. The gesture sends a wave of goose bumps down my arms. “You smell so good, baby.”
Doesn’t matter what comes next, I’m all in. I attack his neck with kisses and nips, which causes him to chuckle. One of his hands finds the hem of my tank as he toys with it. “You want to play?”
“I want to play.”
He moves his hand over my stomach and takes hold of my breast. Kneading and squeezing, he watches me just as he pinches the tip, sending a flare of pleasure straight down between my legs, causing me to buck. I tip my head back, my mouth falls open, and my breath deepens, wanting more.
Kissing me, he swallows a moan before it reaches our ears and teases my other nipple.
When his knee slips between my legs, I open for him, giving him all the access he craves because I need this just as much.
Maybe more. He feels so good, the weight of his body, the intensity of his touch, the way he’s looking at me like I’m the one who can save him tonight.
The buildup is too much, the foreplay too long.
I hold his face and encourage him to look up at me just after he starts to go down. “I want you.”
“I want you, too.” He continues down, hooking his fingers over my shorts and takes them with him. Quick to pause, he leans right and kisses my hip. “Are those strawberries?”
I forget about the three small tattoos on my hip. “It was on a whim in South Padre, spring break after senior year. Too much tequila . . . you know the drill.”
The smile that reaches his eyes is so sweet as he stares down at the little bunch and kisses it again. “A trail of strawberries.” Glancing at me, he adds, “I like where these are leading. ”
I giggle. Yes, giggle like a schoolgirl under his admiring gaze. My cheeks are heating, and it feels so good to release the tension. “Glad you like.”
“You know what I like better?” The shorts reach my thighs, and his gaze travels to the apex of my legs.
It’s not a lingering look, but it’s potent in its powers, making me want to clench my thighs together and rub feverishly.
He doesn’t let me. His fingers drag down my legs, making claims that he doesn’t verbalize.
I don’t know how I thought this would play out, but I wasn’t expecting a sweet seduction from him. It rouses my yearning for him, pulling it to the surface as if it’s been waiting for the opportunity.
He gets off the bed, taking my pajama bottoms with him and dropping them to the floor. Standing at the end of the mattress, he explores my body slowly, leaving the cool air to brush over my skin. But it’s not the temperature that makes me want to beg him to return. It’s the way he’s taking me in.
Desire.
Approval.
Need.
A delicious combination burns in his eyes as he licks his lips. His eyes reach mine again, and he says, “Take off your top for me, Lauralee.” His voice is firm, a command not a request that I’m more than happy to oblige. Especially since he’s already taking his briefs off in front of me.
All’s fair.
I sit up and strip my shirt away and toss it at him. He catches it with a grin as I settle back on my elbows. “You going to stand there all night and stare?”
“It’s not the worst idea.” He kisses the inside of my left thigh, then makes sure the right one isn’t left out. Looking back up at me, he says, “I can’t wait to watch you come. ”
I’m left lifeless, dead to the world, seduced to death with that simple phrase.
He flattens his hand over my stomach and kisses closer to where I really want him but stops shy of the spot. Nudging under my leg, I lift. He settles in with it draped over his shoulder and takes a lick like he’s been dying to his whole life—eyes closed, deep inhale, and savoring right after.
I fall flat on my back and lie there with my arms wide open as this man’s hunger for me gets the better of him, and he starts devouring me like I’m his last meal.
I grab the pillow above my head and smother my moans though I know there’s no stopping my body from wriggling under his tongue and lips, his mouth as he latches onto my clit.
“Oh my God,” I whimper, the intensity striking like the lightning outside.
My body feels alive, electrified as his mouth takes me, teases me, fucks me, and tempts me toward the edge.
My mind is nothing and everything at once.
His tongue, the feel of his hair between my fingers as I tug, the scruff along the soft skin of my inner thighs and that look he gave right before diving in that told me to get ready to hold on tight.
When he hums against me, his fingers tease my entrance before he slips in. The pillow is discarded as my back arches and my thighs clamp together. “It’s too much. Too much,” I plead to myself.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I bolt my head upright. “God, no. Don’t you dare.” I push his head down, and he laughs but then circles my need until I can’t take much more. “I can’t hold on.” I shake my head, wanting to let go and float to the beautiful abyss.
“Let go, baby. Just feel. Feel how good?—”
His voice, the tone, him . He sends me spiraling toward my release. I reach the peak, and my body tremors beneath his warmth and care, his slick mouth, and big hands. I bite my lip to stop the blissful moan that wants to escape.
And as soon as my body finds peace in the stillness, he kisses my lips and my forehead before he falls beside me to lie. I roll my head to the side, and when he looks my way, I say, “That was better than any electronic.”
We both laugh, and he says, “Good to hear.”
But when his hand finds mine, and he takes hold of it between our bodies, I catch the beat of an errant feeling entering my heart. One that is new to me. One that’s blooming only for him.
The laughter stops, and I look up at the ceiling, finding it safer in this space than staring into his eyes. I’m not sure what to say while we lie together like this. He’s just as quiet, seemingly with as much on his mind when I steal a glimpse of him staring at the same boring ceiling.
I roll over and kiss his chest. I want to break the ice, but more so, I want him to feel as good as he’s made me feel.
I rub over his hard abs and start going lower, but he catches my hand and brings it to his mouth.
He places a kiss on it, and says, “I know we keep saying all’s fair, but you don’t owe me anything, Lauralee.
I wanted to do that for you.” Slipping his hand under my hip, he pulls me into his arms. “Let’s get some sleep. ”
Arguing doesn’t feel right, so I believe what he says and snuggle against him. When I close my eyes, he kisses my forehead and whispers, “You taste just like shortcake. I think that’s what I’m going to call you from now on.”
A few years ago, heck, even a few months ago, I would have laughed him out of the Pass. But lying in his arms that hold me like precious cargo, I smile instead.