Chapter 24 #2
“I’m okay for now, but thank you.” She nibbles on her lip, eyeing the bags on her table. “And thank you for bringing all of this. You seriously didn’t have to.”
“If you want me to leave, it’s okay.”
It’s the last thing I want to do, but she’s been acting weird since she sent that text, and I can take a hint. I might not like it, but I won’t force her to spend time with me.
She grasps my hand and squeezes, her green eyes shining as she looks up at me. “No. Please, stay.”
“Are you sure?” Even as I ask the question, I step closer.
She nods, then gives another shoulder shrug. “I’m a bit thrown having you here, but that’s a me issue, not you.”
My heart sinks a little. “Why is that?”
She nods toward her bed. “Can we sit? I know it’s weird that my bed is my couch, but I don’t want to sit in a stiff chair right now,” she says, eyeing the little kitchen set against the other wall.
I smile. Damn, her awkwardness is adorable.
I’ve had my tongue in her ass. I’ve smacked her pussy and I’ve been buried to the hilt inside her when she comes. She was a goddess in every one of those moments, but right now, standing before me, I swear I’m seeing the real, unfiltered version. And I fucking love it.
So I follow her to her bed, and when she settles beside me, I pull her onto my lap. “Baby girl, you’re killing me,” I murmur into her neck. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
She pulls back and presses her palm to my cheek, her eyes boring into mine. “I don’t have people here. I don’t show them this side of me.”
Unease swirls in my gut. “But why?”
“You’ve seen the Warrens’ house. And all the Langfields’ homes too, I’m sure.
And Sutton Jones, another one of my closest friends—her mom is Elizabeth Sweet,” she says, her shoulders sagging.
“Every one of my friends has a perfect family and their own beautiful apartment. And let’s not even talk about your place. I’m sure the women you date—”
“I don’t date,” I say gruffly.
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. The women you fuck.”
That unease curls into a ball in the pit of my stomach. “I can’t change who I was before I met you.”
She shakes her head, huffing out an annoyed breath. “I’m not saying I want you to. I’m just saying that I’m not like them. Any of them.”
Despite my concern, I can’t help but smirk. “That’s true.”
She frowns, those beautiful green irises dulling a little.
“You’re not like any other woman I’ve ever met.
” I lace my fingers with hers and kiss her knuckles.
“So yeah, I’ve fucked a lot of women in my life, and sure, maybe they came from money, or maybe they hid behind a facade.
Honestly I don’t ask a woman to show me her bank balance before we fool around.
I couldn’t give a fuck how much money you have.
I’m not judging you. In fact, I’m crazy as fuck about you.
So crazy that, yeah, when I pulled up in front of your building, I thought she deserves a better home. Because I want you in mine.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part, a small breath escaping her.
“I can’t explain this feeling I have when I’m with you any more than I can explain how the moment I put on skates, I knew I was meant to be a hockey player.
” I feel as vulnerable as fuck right now, but I can’t stop myself from being honest with her.
“I want this, Savannah. You. All of it. So please just let me get to know you.”
She’s quiet, searching my face for a long moment. So long, in fact, that I worry I’ve scared her. That she’ll jump off my lap and usher me straight out the door.
But when her shy smile returns, the anxiety in my chest dissipates.
“What do you want to know?” she finally asks.
“Everything,” I admit, not having a clue where to start. “Anything you’ll tell me. Maybe start with your favorite movie?”
She hums, her lips twitching. “Really? That’s the first thing that comes to mind when I ask what you want to know about me?”
Amusement floods me, along with relief. “I figure we can watch it after dinner. I’ll rub your back. Then, maybe, if you feel more relaxed, we can have a conversation without all the stress.”
The light returns to her eyes. “That’s—” She runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “That’s a really good idea.”
I roll to one side, forcing her onto her back, her head on the pillows, eliciting a squeal from her. With a quick peck to her mouth, I stand and shuffle to the table to unpack the supplies I brought. First out is the bear I won for her.
“Oh my god, you brought our love bear!” she squeals.
I chuckle at the ridiculous term she continues to use. “Didn’t have a babysitter and I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t take care of him properly.”
She breaks into a face-splitting grin, and when I hand him to her, still dressed in his Burberry sweater, she squeezes him tight to her chest. “I trust that you were an excellent daddy to our first baby.”
Halfway to the table, I spin back to her. “First, huh?”
Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open, but no words come out.
Before she can get too worked up about her slip of the tongue, I chuckle and get back to unloading the bags.
“So, um,” she says, voice full of nerves, “what else did you bring?”
“French fries and ice cream to start. We’ll eat those first, since temperature matters.”
She laughs, her expression easing.
“I also have chocolate. Watermelon Sour Patch candies because my sister says she craves them during her period too. I got the kid ones too, because why not? And Twizzlers, peanut butter cups. The big ones. Oh, and I picked up a few magazines. Honestly, I went to the store and picked up everything I thought Aiden Langfield would bring on a normal travel day.”
She snorts like she thinks I’m kidding. Clearly she doesn’t know my buddy well enough to know that he has one hell of a sweet tooth.
“Okay, I agree,” she says. “We should start with the ice cream and French fries. Oh, and the peanut butter cups.”
I grab the requested items and go in search of a spoon. It’s not hard to find, since she has a whopping three kitchen drawers.
She’s a big fan of rom-coms, so we turn on Wedding Crashers, and for the next two hours we snack and laugh our asses off. When we’ve officially overdosed on sugar, I clean up and dig out the heating pad.
I plug it in and spread it out on the bed, then urge her to lie on her stomach so she can watch the movie while I rub her back.
Without hesitating, she pulls her cozy top over her head and then unclasps her bra, revealing her perfect heavy breasts and instantly making my mouth water.
“Hate wearing a bra at home,” she tells me as she spins and positions herself on the bed like I asked.
I bite back a groan, willing my dick to stand down. That’s not what tonight is about. With a long breath out, I go back for the bottle of massage oil and bring it over to the bed. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”
She looks over her shoulder at me. “Right. My belly is bulging from all the junk food, my hair hasn’t been washed since yesterday, and I’m in old sweats. Hottie, right here.”
I dig my thumbs into her shoulders and lean down, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “If you think a single one of those things turns me off, then you seriously don’t have a fucking clue.”
Her eyes fall shut and she hums.
I massage her shoulders and upper back, then work my way lower. In minutes, though, she’s squirming beneath me, making me wonder if I’m being too aggressive.
“Too much pressure?”
She drops her head and gives it a shake. “No, I’m just—” She groans into the comforter beneath her. “I’m horny. You’re making me really fucking horny.”
Laughing, I clutch her by the hips and flip her over.
Eyes widening, she tries to adjust her tits, but before she can wrangle them, I duck down and suck a nipple into my mouth.
Her mouth drops open, and she whines. “Fuck, that feels good.”
I pull back and drink her in. She looks so goddamn delicious, her nipples pebbled, begging for more.
With a wicked grin, I bite down on the other. Then I lick away the sting. When I tug on her waistband, she squirms and grasps my wrists, stopping the movement. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not afraid of a little blood, baby girl. I’m going to make you come on my tongue, and if that’s not enough to satisfy you, I’ll fuck you until you come all over me.”
I grasp the elastic band of her pants again, but she squeezes my wrists harder, her body tensing. “Wait.”
She’s breathless, chest heaving and pupils blown out. Yet there’s anxiety there too.
“What’s wrong?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and blows out a breath. “I’m not on my period.”
I pull back, confusion washing over me. “What?”
Eyes open again, she pushes up to sitting and glances at the door before turning back to me but not meeting my eye. “I’m not on my period.”
“So when you texted, you were trying to blow me off?” I sit back a little, surprised by the sting that comes with that realization.
She rests a hand on my thigh and squeezes. “No.” She swallows thickly, like there’s more on her mind, but doesn’t say anything else.
“No, what? Please tell me what’s going on, because my mind is running with lots of ideas, and none of them are good.”
“I wasn’t telling you I was on my period. And I wasn’t trying to cancel on you.” She grunts, focus fixed on the floor. “But I figured you’d cancel on me after getting that text.”
I’m so fucking lost, and I’m still spiraling.
“The point of the calendar wasn’t to tell you that I was on my period. It was an ovulation calendar.” She peers up then, embarrassment shining in her eyes.
“Ovulation,” I repeat.
Her lips slant, like maybe she wants to laugh. “You know, like how you figure out when you’re ovulating?” She says it like it’s a question, her voice going up at the end.
My stomach drops when her meaning registers.
“Wait, you want me to knock you up?”