Chapter 26 Lois #2
He grabs my foot in midair and sets it back down in his lap. I do it again. And finally, he decides to look me in the eye.
“You’re doing that moody thing again.” I pout. “It’s like back when this whole…” I’m stuck on the word. “This whole forced living-together started.”
“Was living here really that bad?” he asks.
My breath catches in my throat. I swallow hard and tug down on my T-shirt. He’s frowning, as if I just said something mean.
“Not always,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “You were a pain in the ass, though.”
“Not always,” he repeats.
It feels like he means something else. He turns back to the television in silence, and I force myself to breathe deep, fighting a growing sense of disappointment.
I think back to how low I was when Lane found me there on the stairs, and how little by little, I’ve picked myself up and pieced myself back together without even realizing—all thanks to him.
I shift in my seat and swing my knees over to him, placing my hands on my thighs, leaning in to look at him. Slowly, he turns to me.
“What?”
“Thank you.”
I lean forward, coiling my arms around his neck, squeezing him as hard as I can, feeling his body tense in shock, and I could let go, but instead I hang on for dear life, breathing in his smell.
Just when I’m thinking it’s time to let go, just when I’m biting down on disappointment that he hasn’t hugged me back, I feel his hands coming to rest on my sides, and I smile into his neck, before planting a quick kiss on his cheek.
“Thank you for giving me somewhere to call home,” I whisper into his ear.
“No problem.” His voice is hoarse as he pulls back to look at me.
“Can I come over and make pizza every now and then?”
“You can.”
My arms are still slung around his neck, and we stare at each other for a moment without talking.
My mom was right. Lane is beautiful. An idea is nudging at the back of my mind, swelling with the ache tightening in my belly.
I want to kiss him. He’s done way more than that to me, but he hasn’t kissed me again—not once—and my lips are aching for his.
I feel a jolt of adrenaline shoot from my throat down to my core.
Time freezes. Lane’s gaze drifts over my face, then lingers on my mouth, his breathing heavier.
Something flashes between his eyes and mine—so intense it short-circuits my brain.
My fingers take on a life of their own as they search for the collar of his T-shirt, and before I have time to tug at the fabric, his mouth crashes into mine.
Finally. It’s the only word echoing in my head as our tongues meet.
I hadn’t realized just how much I had missed this, but I hear myself moan, and I cling to him tighter.
No more questions—I’m done with all that.
I’m not going to think about what we’re doing, and what it means for the future.
Tomorrow I’m leaving, and I want to pack this moment away and take it with me.
He tugs on my bottom lip, before pulling back to look at me.
Something in his gaze makes my heart ache, and I try my best to etch it to memory.
He gently cups my face with one hand, while the other falls to the arch of my lower back, pulling me closer into him.
This feels good—so good, that I hoist myself up until I’m straddling him.
I bend my knees, guiding him exactly where I want him.
Slowly, I start grinding against him, drawing ragged groans out of him, the sound of which send a rush of warmth straight to my core.
There’s hardly any fabric between us, and I can feel every hard inch of him, every twitch of his dick, every pulse of pressure.
He grips my hips and answers with urgent thrusts.
His mouth is nipping at my jaw, dragging along my throat, leaving hot kisses in his wake.
All I wanted was a kiss, but things are spinning out of control.
I have absolutely no desire to stop them, though.
When my frantic hands yank off his T-shirt, I barely recognize myself.
When he pulls mine over my head, I feel myself desperately rising to meet him.
He freezes, eyes dropping to my breasts.
“Fuck, Lois,” he rasps. Then he arches me backward, covering them with his mouth.
The sensation sends a wave of liquid heat rippling through my body.
It’s so intense I start to laugh, my giddiness melting into a deep moan.
The idea of sleeping with anyone other than Kirk terrified me, but with Lane, all I feel is relief and hunger.
He pulls me up against him, kissing me with wild intensity, then he lowers his lips back to my breasts—sucking hard, tongue sweeping over my skin, teeth grazing until I’m lightheaded.
My head is already dizzy when he flips me over and lays me down on the couch.
I gasp as his body presses on top of mine.
Tongues, mouths, hands—our bodies fuse into one, the whole world blurring into a fevered tangle of limbs.
I’m so swept away in a roller coaster of sensation that I dig my nails into his back, clinging to him like I might fall. I barely register the moment he tugs off my panties and slides on a condom. By the time his lips break away from mine, my heart is hammering in my chest and time skips a beat.
“Are you sure?” His voice is raw, strained. “Tell me this is what you want.”
“Please, Lane,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”
He curses under his breath, jaw tight. “Jesus, Lois… You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
We lock eyes as he positions himself between my thighs, the tip of him teasing small, maddening circles over the wettest part of me.
My body arches toward him, desperate, but he takes his time, giving me one last chance to shut the whole thing down, only winding me tighter in the process.
I run my fingers along his cheek, weave them through his hair, and tug him back down into a rough kiss.
As his tongue finds my mouth again, my chest swells, and I think I might die with want.
His eyes are searching for mine, and whatever he sees must convince him, because he starts pushing into me, excruciatingly slow, stretching me inch by inch.
It feels like every one of my nerve endings are lighting up.
A strangled sound rumbles from his chest, mixing with the sharp gasp I can’t hold back.
He stills, holding there, every muscle tight and vibrating with restraint, checking if I can take it—if I want all of him.
I nod desperately, words tumbling out between shallow breaths—a string of pleases, of begging.
“I need you.” My voice doesn’t even sound like mine.
“You’re fucking killing me,” he mutters, before he pushes into me the rest of the way in one hard, claiming thrust. The force of it knocks whatever air I had left from my lungs, and his own breath tears out in a rough growl.
With one hand, he grabs my thigh, pressing it into his hip, and with the other, he laces his fingers through mine, pinning my arm above my head.
We’re not even kissing anymore—we’re too winded, our mouths just pressed together, panting.
I can’t believe this is happening. Lane is making me feel things I didn’t even know I could.
It’s like nobody ever existed before him.
With every thrust of his hips, tears are springing into my eyes.
Emotion rushes at me, my heart so tight I swear it could burst. I want to laugh.
I want to cry. There’s so much I want to say to him, but all that comes out are ragged gasps.
I’m drowning in the sweetest chaos and savoring every second of it.
I never want this to end. I want to feel him inside me, again and again.
Lane doesn’t say another word. He doesn’t need to.
His body speaks for him. He looks completely untamed.
I give in to his touch, letting him take control.
It’s like he’s unlocking whole new parts of me.
At this point, all I know is Lane and the way he fills me.
He’s so thick and so damn deep. It’s making my toes curl and my head spin.
Over and over, he drives into me until I forget where I end and he begins.
My legs hold more urgently to his waist, feeling myself rise higher and higher every time our bodies meet, until my heart takes flight.
Suddenly, my muscles clamp down, pleasure rippling through me in hot, helpless waves.
I cry out, shaking, as my body clenches, release pulsing hard and gripping tight around him.
He lets out a string of low and filthy curses.
His thrusts turn frantic, and it’s like he’s unraveling inside me, licking and biting and grabbing wherever he can reach.
Then he slams in as deep as he can one last time, shuddering hard before pressing his body to mine, his breath hot and uneven against my skin.
We stay there for a while, our hearts pressed together, pulses beating as one.
Then, slowly, Lane edges away, peeling off the condom.
He rolls me gently onto my side and lowers himself behind me on the couch, his chest to my back.
I lie there, staring into space, half expecting him to leap up and run again.
But instead, he slips a hand under my arm and curves it over my stomach, nestling close without a word.
Our bare skin touches in a way that feels so very right.
He noses at the back of my neck, then gently sweeps my hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear.
What is he thinking? I could guess, but I’m too scared of getting it wrong—and though all I have to do is ask, I can’t seem to find the words.
“Do you really like the dorm? Genuinely?” he asks, his voice low and raspy.
I blink, curling my toes. I’m too scared to look around at him.
“It’s not bad,” I try.
“You could do better.”
Yeah. I could have that spare room you never told me about.
“What if you…”
I stiffen, desperate for him to finish the question.
He strokes my tummy, tracing my belly button, feeling his way to my foot with his toes.
“There’ll be more choice in August. You could…”
He freezes mid-sentence, and my pulse is racing. I grip the cushion tighter, holding on for dear life.
“I could what?” I’m practically begging now.
“You could stay.”
My heart is hammering so fast I can hardly think, a rush of blood to my head, my cheeks on fire. I squeeze my eyes tight, clamp my lips shut, willing myself to keep it together. I’m stupid-happy right now, and I feel something else, too—something I don’t want to examine just yet.
“You want me to stick around?”
I need to double-check—make sure this isn’t a dream. He nods. Just the once. I’m so happy I want to throw myself at his feet, but instead I force my muscles still, relishing the words I had stopped hoping he would ever say. I don’t want him to realize how touched I am.
“Why?” I ask.
I’m so scared of how he’ll answer.
His hand hovers on my rib cage. I can’t even hear him breathe anymore. Did sleeping together help unlock something inside him? I need to know what he wants from me. From us. I think I just realized that what I want is an us. Period.
“We had a deal, remember? The plan was always that I move out,” I offer. “Plus, there’s a closet there, there’s even a desk…”
I don’t give a shit about any of that, but I need to hear how far he’s prepared to go to stop me leaving, and I want to know whether this whole situation is connected to how weird he’s been since Christmas, too. I’m about to bring up the bed, when he cuts me off.
“I should never have waited this long,” he starts awkwardly.
Oh my God!
“I’m going to empty the closet,” he continues.
“In the bedroom?”
“Yeah. And you can have the desk space—I never use it.”
My breath catches in my throat. The secret empty room.
All these months, and finally I’m being given the key.
If he wants me to stick around, then maybe he does feel the way I do.
This is Lane we’re dealing with here: the guy who had a zero-guest policy last summer.
And now he wants me to stay. In a real bedroom of my own.
Sayonara, couch! And sure, he said it’s only until next August, only until I find a better dorm—but let’s get real: I know that’s just an excuse.
And no, he hasn’t offered up his bedroom, but it’s a start.
This buys me enough time to try and make sense of it all.
Kirk has always been the elephant in the room—it makes sense that Lane would be a little wary.
As soon as the time is right, I plan on telling him that he’s the one I want. I know that now.
I bite my lip. “Are you sure?”
I want him to tell me that yes he’s sure, that everything’s changed between us, that all he can think about is us and doing it all over again, right now, right here, all the time—
“Yeah,” he says. “You?”
I nod slowly.
“Okay. So we have a new deal. I’m spending the whole day with Carter tomorrow—we’re meeting a producer to go through a contract. You can put your stuff away, arrange everything the way you want it.”
“Sounds good. I’ll need to head down to the office to turn down the room. Are you sure you—”
“I’m sure. There’s more than enough space here. Beats that overpriced rabbit hutch, that’s for sure,” he adds.
“I can pay my way—”
“I own this place, Lois. Just keep the groceries coming.”
I’m tempted to ask whether there’s anything else I should keep on coming, too, but I think we’re done here. I don’t want to ruin the moment.
The weight of him is warming my back, and I suddenly feel super tired. Just before I drift off to sleep, I start daydreaming about what it would be like if every day was like today.