Chapter 26
26
DAISY
I’ve lost track of time. Night fell hours ago, but I continue to fight my exhaustion, not wanting to miss Bryce needing me. She’s hardly moved since she fell asleep again after getting out of the bath, but what if she did and I wasn’t conscious?
The soft pink pajamas I found for her in the dresser are hideous, but thankfully, she was too tired to notice them before crawling into bed. They looked wrong on her, another variation of the uniform she’s forced to wear at work. All frills and lace and scratchy material that cover too many of the tattoos I now know exist.
My hand began cramping a while ago, but I haven’t been able to stop stroking her head and running my fingers through her hair. The largest part of myself, the one that’s constantly needy for attention and physical affection, is thriving yet still craves more from both of us.
Wiggling my toes beneath the heavy blanket, I strain to make out the shape of Bryce in the dark room. I feel her more than I see her. Steady, hot exhales warm my thigh, and her hand grips my shin, fingers curled even in sleep.
She’s had her head laid on my lap for a long time. A few minutes after falling asleep on the pillow that’s lying cold and empty beside me. I didn’t dare move her, not only because I didn’t want to disturb her but because having her cheek on my thigh filled my chest with a dizzying warmth. Even in sleep, she reached for me. Trusted me.
So, I’ve been sitting up against the headboard, fully aware of the kink in my back and the cramp in my hand because I can’t make myself move.
This isn’t how either of us expected to spend our weekend. After a long, draining week, I was looking forward to rotting the weekend away on the couch. Instead, I’m here.
It would be normal to feel frustrated about that, right? But if so, why am I the opposite? I’m tired and sore, and even a bit uncomfortable being in this house with Bryce’s parents.
It all pales in comparison to the peace I feel in this moment.
I wouldn’t trade this weekend for anything. The thoughtful conversation, gentle touches, and the inside look at the version of Bryce not many get to see. We’ve bonded. Both emotionally and physically, if what happened in the bathroom wasn’t just a figment of my imagination.
God, the bathroom. I can still feel the raised skin on her legs and waist beneath my fingertips. It wasn’t my intention to touch her chest with my arm, but when she arched into it, I forgot how to breathe.
Tipping my head back to rest against the headboard, I press my tongue to the inside of my lip and gently curl my fingers in the thick mass of her black hair. Heat crawls up my chest and neck as arousal floods my stomach.
It’s wrong, completely uncalled for in the situation I’m in.
Yet as the memory of taking her clothes off comes barrelling in, I struggle to think of anything but the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen. Have ever dreamed of or imagined.
Muscled stomach and shoulders, curvy hips and thighs, and breasts the size of generous handfuls. I’d have had a much better chance of shoving my interest out of my mind in the bathroom, crouched in front of her, had I not pulled down her skirt .
It was intimate in a way that should have been terrifying. Something that should have taken place between lovers and not two people still getting to know one another. The brief moment outside of her room last week doesn’t come close to that.
And I wouldn’t take it back.
Not the feel of her skirt in my grip or the familiar sensation of lace panties scraping my skin. She was so hot it burned as I brought them both further and further down, until she was bare before me, all smooth, puffy skin that glistened in a way that threatened to undo me completely.
For a moment, I considered staying there forever, doing nothing more than staring at her from my place on the floor, her hand steady on my head like a guiding force.
My attention snaps to my lap when Bryce grows restless. With a turn of her head, her face is pushed between my thighs instead of on them. I hold as still as possible, muscles quivering with the strain of keeping them tense.
She lets out a soft noise and then slides her hand up my leg, over my knee and to the squishy part of my thigh. It disappears beneath the hem of my skater skirt, which has already risen on its own. She lingers only a couple of inches from my damp panties, and my pussy sings at the closeness, a sharp prick of desire following.
I swallow thickly and attempt to lift my thigh in hopes of pushing her head upward. Instead, she tightens her grip on it and stretches her arm out, encouraging my leg outward to create a much larger gap between them that she groans into.
“Bryce,” I squeak, all too aware of how bad it would be to allow her to do what I think she might be trying to do to me in her sleep.
In her sleep.
She probably thinks I’m someone else, and that’s more than enough of a reason for me to tug her carefully by the hair and repeat her name, louder this time.
Bryce jolts up and off my lap, the skin of my leg where her hand was growing ice-cold. “Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck?”
My body shakes with silent laughter at her outburst, and even though I can’t see her scowling at me, I know she is. Call it intuition.
“What’s wrong?” she asks hoarsely.
“Has anyone ever told you that you get touchy when you’re sleeping?”
Her hair whips around her face as she tries to stare at me in the dark. “What did I do?”
I scoot further down the bed now that she’s not on my lap. The relief in my back from the new position is instant.
“So, is that a yes?”
“Tell me what I did. If it was something that freaked you out?—”
“Are you hungry?”
She pauses, the confused scrunch of her features obvious, even with the lack of light. “No, I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Daisy, stop fucking with me,” she warns with a slight hiss.
I swallow a giggle. “I’m pretty sure you were five seconds away from trying to eat me for breakfast.”
Silence.
More silence.
Then, the crinkle of sheets as Bryce reaches behind her for a pillow and shoves it into her face. Her groan is so loud it’s hardly muffled.
I roll my lips together and reach for the blanket before tugging it up my body and nestling it beneath my chin.
My lashes flutter as I wait for her to finish freaking out, my patience everlasting when it comes to this woman.
Finally, she pulls the pillow from her face and rests it on her lap. Eyes trained forward, she says, “You could have punched me for that.”
“Why would I do that? ”
“Because I just tried to touch you without your consent.”
The frustrated bewilderment in the words is reassuring in a way. It’s a reminder that she isn’t the type of person to take anything like this lightly or do something that I’m not okay with. I don’t need the reminder, but knowing it’s there is comforting.
“Well, you didn’t. And you hadn’t even actually touched me anywhere that I hadn’t touched you earlier. You’re a good person, Bryce. Even when you have dirty dreams.”
“I wasn’t having a dirty dream,” she denies gruffly.
“No?”
“No.”
“If you say so.”
“Daisy,” she scolds.
The deep, chastising sound of her voice does nothing but spark the desire that’s been lying dormant since she got off my lap. If anyone should be scolding themselves for sexual behaviour, it should be me based solely off my dirty thoughts.
“You know, considering we’re supposed to be in a relationship, it would be really bad if someone learned that we haven’t even kissed before,” I ramble, letting my tongue run free.
Excitement rams into me head-on.
God, I’m pushing my limits here. This is not what I should be encouraging. Especially after all that’s happened since we got to Bryce’s parents’ house.
Bryce hesitates for a beat, but no immediate refusal comes. “How would they find that out?”
“It could come up in conversation and slip out.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
She’s looking down at me with those cool blue eyes that I wish I could see more clearly. At the same time, maybe the darkness is a blessing. It gives us the opportunity to hide some of ourselves. A reassurance that this isn’t the time for us to expose our souls to one another or turn this into anything it doesn’t need to be.
“Practice. If you’re feeling up to it,” I murmur .
“That’s all it’ll be?”
The lie feels as forced as it does wrong. “That’s all.”
I don’t know if I believe what I’m saying. It doesn’t matter, though. Not when I’m scorching hot and fidgeting with the need to maul her.
“I have to brush my teeth first.”
Before I can offer to help her out of bed, she’s up and swaying into the ensuite. I take it as a good sign that she’s regained enough of her strength to walk on her own. Maybe we’ve been here longer than I thought.
I’m a mess of nerves and sore, sensitive nipples by the time she stumbles back to the bed and sits beside me. Replicating my position from when she slept on my lap, she keeps her back propped against the headboard and legs pressed together.
“Are you okay? Maybe you should sleep some more,” I offer, pushing myself up and out from beneath the blanket, too hot for it now.
Bryce doesn’t answer with words. She reaches out and palms my cheek, guiding me toward her. I move onto my knees and shuffle closer until I’m no more than a pinky’s length away, and I can smell the mint toothpaste on her breath.
“Ready?” I ask.
My eyelids fall, hiding her expression as we hover, tasting each other’s breath but not moving for anything more. I’m not touching her, and I want to be. The rules that are supposed to be keeping us in line are non-existent in this moment. They might as well have not existed in the first place.
I’d have broken them anyway.
“Not really.”
Bryce strokes my cheekbone with her thumb, and then our lips are meeting. It’s just a soft, curious press of mouths, but it unlocks something inside of me.
She pulls back after the smallest of moments, and I push forward on my knees, digging them into her thigh before kissing her again. It’s less curious and more confident, starting gentle but growing firmer as I realize that the sensation I’m feeling is interest.
A genuine romantic interest in Bryce that spreads far beyond the physical desire that’s grown hopeless to ignore. It was so obvious, yet I’d ignored it. Three weeks and I’ve already lost any hope of keeping my heart out of this.
The sudden, steady grip on my waist pulls me out of my thoughts. I bump my nose against hers when I lean further into the kiss and throw my leg over her lap, keeping myself up on my knees.
“Just more practice,” I whisper.
She pulls at my waist, and I jerk forward before collapsing onto her strong thighs, my knees giving out.
“Practice.” The agreement is nothing more than a rasp.
Finally, I find something to do with my hands and place one around her bicep while the other returns to her hair, my nails scraping against her scalp.
Lips part against mine, and Bryce huffs a breath into my mouth. Her fingers tense on my jaw, and then they’re cautiously drifting. Down my neck, over my rapid pulse, and to the hollow of my throat, she touches me with pressure so gentle it’s nothing more than a ghost of the one she’s applying to my waist.
I tremble under her touch, every inch of my body burning hotter and hotter the longer we kiss and she keeps her hands on me. The constant pressure of my nipples against the pads of my bra is nothing compared to the one between my legs. It takes everything in me not to adjust my position and ride her thigh so I can feel some reprieve.
She appears more in control than I am. Every innocent brush of her fingers over my skin is a piece of kindling thrown onto the flaming need in my every molecule, and I don’t think she has any clue the extent of my desire.
The feeling of her nail drawing a line up the back of my ear is enough to yank a whimper from me. My hips roll, and I drag my lips down her chin and duck my head, shaking like a leaf .
“We’ve practiced enough. They’ll know we’ve done it before,” she says so softly I almost don’t hear her.
I squeeze my eyes shut and freeze, almost wishing that I hadn’t heard at all.
A myriad of emotions hits me as I slowly push back to my knees and swing off her. It’s stupid to feel rejected. I was the one who said this was all for practice. She’s just following the rules when I’m incapable of doing so.
That doesn’t stop me from aching in a completely different way than I was a moment ago as I sit on the opposite side of the bed, keeping a healthy bit of space between us.
“I’m going to get you some more meds. Do you need anything else?” I ask, putting on a brave face.
“I’m okay.”
Well, that makes one of us.
I swallow any and every potential reply and leave the room. It’s a while before I come back. Not until I’m sure that Bryce is nearly asleep again, too tired to bring up what just happened and to realize that I’ve curled up on the armchair instead of the bed.
Where I stay for the rest of the night.
I thought the dark would have been helpful, but we may as well have been directly beneath the sun.