Chapter 51
THEO
I woke up with Mallory’s ass against my dick and her hair in my mouth. Both were a first. Mallory, yes. But waking up to a woman in my bed, that was new, especially close enough to feel her lush curves and choke on her silky strands. I took women to bed, but they never stayed in mine. Or I in hers.
This was actually Bridget’s bed, so perhaps it was like the Switzerland of sleeping. Neutral turf.
Except I was fully clothed, and Mallory was in a long shirt which had ridden up. She was warm and soft and silent.
No fine. No loud singing every lyric to every song across the state of Utah. No laughing. Or moaning. Just her.
My arm was slung over her waist and my nose was buried in her soft hair.
I didn’t want to move my hand, but I had to clear my mouth.
I kissed the top of her head. I… liked this.
Liked holding her. Ridiculously enough, I’d liked the road trip.
I felt a connection. A change in us. That she was beginning to understand our dynamic.
So we had sex in the car when it wasn’t scheduled. So I ate some deliciously bad for me food. I was learning how to have fun.
I was actually, strangely, having fun.
This could work, me and Mallory. She’d come over later for sex o’clock. I smiled at my play on time. She wouldn’t be stressed or worried about a thing. She had her house, no arrest looming. I fixed her problems. I–
Her cell phone’s alarm clock blared, as loud as the music from the car ride.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
She jolted, then groaned. Then froze. Then tried to wiggle, which only brought her ass against my dick.
“Easy, tiger.”
When she moved again, I lifted my arm and she popped from bed.
“I have school.”
I glanced up at her, hair a mess, eyes more asleep than awake. The pale blue nightshirt that may have covered her tits but didn’t do a thing to hide the full swells or the plump tips. Even though I knew exactly what they looked like, there was something unbelievably sexy about this look. Intimate.
Fuck, I was hard. So hard it hurt. I knew what could fix that.
“I know you usually come over at six, but how about six am instead of six pm?” I asked, reaching down and rubbing my dick through my jeans.
Her gaze dropped to watch what my hand was doing. I was fully clothed in my day-old outfit and she looked at me as if I was one of those male revue dancers.
She shook her head, as if to clear away cobwebs. “I have to shower.” Lifting her sleep shirt up and over her head, she tossed it aside so she was only in a pair of pale pink panties. With a glance over her shoulder, she added, “But I can multitask.”
I hopped from the bed and followed her across the hall into the bathroom while I tugged down the zipper on my jeans. “I’m a trauma surgeon. Multitask is my middle name.”