Chapter 29
29
Juni
“I don’t understand.”
I sound it out slower this time. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Why not?” Drew asks, staring at me like I’m an alien.
My defenses kick in, and I cross my arms. Even though it’s over my bare breasts, he gets the message. “Well, for one, I haven’t been sexually active in a long time. Secondly, you should have one as backup.”
“Like carry one on me at all times? I’m starting to worry what you really think of me, babe. I’m not some sex-crazed animal roaming the streets. I might have slept with a few women over the years?—”
“A few?”
His finger shoots up, noting my point for that round. “A lot, but that doesn’t mean I can’t control myself. Also, how did this get turned around on me?”
“Because we’d be upstairs right now if your mom wasn’t visiting. And upstairs is where the protection is.”
He sits up next to me on the bed and angles my direction. “Are you on the?—”
“No. Reference number one again, the not sexually active with a human in many?—”
“Months?”
I distract myself with the lights dotting the nightscape through the window and whisper, “Years.”
“Years?”
“Okay, don’t say it like that.” My arms tighten because if I’m not getting any, he’s not even getting the pregame show.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a weirdo.”
“I don’t know how accusing someone of being a weirdo sounds, but it’s not a bad thing that you haven’t had sex with a human in years.”
Grabbing the blanket, I pull it up to my chin. He’s really close to getting my promise to show him revoked. “Wow, that did not sound convincing at all.”
“I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.” Fine , I’m hot for him and weak to a good idea. A little desperate as well.
He gets out of bed and searches for his pants. They’re in the living room, but I enjoy the show too much to stop him. “I’ll go upstairs, get a condom, and bring it back down.”
The lack of confidence in his suggestion is unrecognizable. “Why does this sound like an impossible mission?”
“My mom might be awake, and if she is, she’ll want to talk.”
I laugh. One of the biggest problems he’s shared with me is that he has a parent who actually wants to spend time with him. I might be a little jealous of his family being so close, but I also love it. Everyone should feel that comfort of love.
This adventure is sounding fun. “Can I go?”
“No,” he says, throwing his hands in front of him. “Don’t leave this bed.”
Getting out of bed, I head to my closet and yank a little sundress from the hanger. “I want to come.”
“So do I. That’s why I want you to stay just like this.” His hands run over my shoulders and then down to my breasts. Men are so easily distracted. “I’ll be quicker if I’m alone.”
“Come on.” I pull the sundress on over my underwear. “It’ll be fun.”
“Yeah, fun,” he grumbles, pulling on his undershirt. “Do you know where my pants are?”
“Living room next to my shirt.”
He disappears into the other room and then returns with the pants on. Without putting socks on, he slips on his shoes.
“I was surprised to hear your mom ask if I was staying over.”
“I think it’s hard for her to have her boys all grown up, but she tries to respect us as men as well.” His gaze does a once-over on my body, and then he asks, “Ready?”
“Mission retrieve condom is on.” On the way out the door, I slip my flip-flops back on. We take the stairs for convenience and probably because it feels sneakier.
He opens his apartment door slowly and scouts the surroundings on the other side before we enter. Using his hand like a map, he points at the top right quadrant of his palm and then gives me a thumbs-up before we start down the entry hall.
I have no clue what any of it meant, but it was cute, like we’re on the same team and huddling. I really like huddling with Drew.
Pinning himself to the wall around the corner, he then peeks backs and waves me forward. Unfortunately, the flip of my flop against the wood floor is loud, so I kick them off and make a run down the hall on my tiptoes. When I reach him, he bends and gives me a kiss because why the hell not? We’re not actually in any kind of danger.
When we pass the guest room, no light shines from underneath the door, and I whisper, “I think she’s asleep.”
He’s still not satisfied until we’re locked inside his room. “I’ll grab the condom.”
“Grab two or three. Just grab the box. You never know.”
“It’s a bowl.”
Pinned to the back of the door, I ask, “What is?”
“The condoms. I store them in a bowl.”
“Wait, let me get this straight. You have a bowl of condoms?”
“It was here, so I used it.”
I can’t argue with that logic. “Grab the bowl, and let’s get out of here.” I head back down the hall, put my shoes on, and wait by the front door.
This has to be torture . . . waiting to get back to my apartment. I thought he’d give up after our tiff before dinner. That he’d retreat to being distant Mr. Christiansen. But the fact he pursued me, opened up a little more to me, has made my heart beat even stronger for him.
He’s an underwear man, so I’d actually planned on teasing him a little when we got back to his apartment. Tonight’s tease comes in the form of a black silk thong with two sweet pink decorative bows on the hips.
I wore them just for him.
I’m sexual to a point, but it’s not been like this before. I crave his touch but need his cuddles afterward. The way he changes from angel to devil in the span of minutes keeps my body on high alert. I’m not above begging this man for an orgasm. He’s that good.
God, now I’m turned on. I look up into Andrew’s eyes, and I’m pretty certain he can see exactly what’s going on inside my head.
I watch him as I run my hand between my breasts and then lower over my belly, making sure he can see very clearly how ready I am for him. “Drew . . .” I lean up and kiss him. Thoroughly. Soon we’re both panting. “Why does the thrill of almost getting caught turn me on?”
“Are you trying to make me come right here in the entryway?” There’s a weakness in his voice that tells me I’m getting to him. “Fuck it.” The bowl is set on the small table behind him. He takes a breast in his hands and kisses my nipple, teasing it with his tongue and then moving over to the other to repeat the technique.
His hands are enormous, like other parts of his body, and span my sides. So hot as he slides to his knees in front of me. “Is this what you want, babe? You want to come on my mouth and have me lick you clean? Or maybe you want to fuck you right here against this wall? Tell me what you want?”
I run my fingers through his hair and then take a section and give a little squeeze. “Why can’t I have both?”
As if he didn’t already drive me crazy, the smirk comes first and then he takes hold of the silky string wrapped over my hip. He rips that one and then moves to the other side. This time. he pulls it away from my skin with his teeth.
He’s about to shred it when a light comes on.
There’s no time . . . we freeze, our gazes locked on each other. Then we hear his mom say, “Oh, I . . . um. Is that my jade bowl? Full of condoms? Not important. Not important. Pretend this never happened. Right. Good night.”
Neither of us makes a move or says a word even after the lights off and we hear her door close loudly down the hall. I’m thinking she wanted us to know when it was safe again.
Just when I think our night of fun is over, I’m swept into his arms, and he sprints to the bedroom. The Fast and the Furious have nothing on him. My thong is ripped, and he’s naked in seconds.
Remembering to leave a condom behind before he grabbed his expensive jade bowl of protection, he’s covered and positioned in no time. “Do you need a warmup?”
“No.” The word barely leaves my mouth before he’s sinking into me.
We’re not making love. This is sensual and desires sated, carnal to the core. His body moves of its own accord, mine taking and giving, opening for him. With him on top, thrusting his body as it glides against mine, I whisper, “You feel so good, Drew.”
I thought Mr. Christiansen was his trigger, but Drew coaxes something else out of him—romance. He slows and kisses my cheek, wanting to make it last longer. I love it and could bathe in his charisma, revel in his care.
“Faster, Mr. Christiansen. Harder. I want you so badly.” But then again, sometimes you just want to have it all as hard as you can. “Yes! Yes!” My head digs into the pillow, and I urge him on with my heels on his ass.
Whether it was the name or the speed or the pressure or all of it coming together at once, we do the same. Lying on the bed, we both stare up at the ceiling and try to catch our breaths.
I say, “I need a shower.”
“Upstairs or downstairs?”
“My place.” When I turn to the side to find him staring at me, he smirks. “I’ll grab the bowl.”
* * *
You would think sitting across from my boyfriend’s mother . . . wait, boyfriend? Is that what Drew is? Do I have a boyfriend, or do I have a friend with benefits? And at what age do we stop calling them boys? I think Drew is my manfriend from here on out.
Back to the business at hand.
Although the rain outside put a damper on our shopping adventure, brunch is still on. I’m not embarrassed in the least sitting across from Cookie Christiansen at Sunday brunch . Nope. There’s also no shame being here with his sister-in-law and her best friend, Tatum.
I think I’m too tired to care with the level of energy required.
I sip a mimosa and then finish my bacon and eggs before moving that plate to the side and making the small side of pancakes the star of the show. To be honest, I’m exhausted, but the last thing I should be doing is thinking about why. I was worried when our conversation turned to forever and marriage last night. But somehow, we got over that bump. And the sex afterward was sensational. He’s glorious in bed. Attentive. Passionate. All that intensity turns into hot, provocative—I don’t notice them staring until the conversation stops, and I look up with pancakes shoved in my mouth. I chew and then wash it down with more liquid. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
Tatum says, “I never thought of Andrew that way.”
“What way is that?” I brace myself because I’m not sure if she’s going to compliment him or go for the jugular.
Sitting back with an all-knowing grin, she says, “Don’t get me wrong, he’s gorgeous, like his brother.” Her eyes momentarily connect with Natalie, who grins like a woman comfortable in her own skin. To me, Tatum says, “But the glow of your skin, your hair . . . You even cleaned your plate. Everything about you is . . . enviable.” Leaning forward, she adds, “You looked beautiful last night, but today you look?—”
“Like you’ve spent the day at the spa and had the best massage of your life,” Natalie says.
I sort of did if three orgasms relax your soul.
“I need to meet someone.” Finishing her mimosa, Tatum sets the glass on the table, and adds, “Sex with Andrew must be incredible.”
Cookie raises her hand. “Check, please.”