9. Ellis #2
“What?” I glance down at the couch and back at her, my mind going a mile a minute trying to figure out a way for us to share the pullout bed without bloodshed or something worse. “No, of course not.”
“Good.” She leans forward and grips the handle, but all I can focus on is her tits. Her cleavage is front and center. Hell, there may as well be a spotlight shining down from the heavens, I’m so entranced. “Then it’s wide open for you.”
Dumbfounded, I stare after her as she pads into the hall to grab the pillows and quilt Atlas and Nora keep in the closet. She tosses them onto the mattress and grabs a tablet from her bag before spreading out the quilt and making herself right at home.
“I… are you being serious?”
She sets her tablet down and glares at me. “Serious about what?”
“Making me sleep on the floor.”
She taps her index finger against her lower lip twice, pretending to think it over. “I should, but I won’t.”
I leap over the back of the couch and settle in beside her.
“Give me some blanket.”
She huffs but slides some of the quilt my way. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine, you got it?”
This feels like a famous last words kind of moment, but damn if I don’t agree anyway. “Got it, Princess.”
Fuuuuuck. I push my hips forward ever so slightly, loving the way her plush ass feels against my rock-hard dick—like the most tantalizing and toxic form of temptation all at once.
I may fucking hate her, but the feel of her body pressed into mine is… delicious.
I run my fingertips over the exposed skin of her stomach, wondering just how far this little fantasy will go before I inevitably wake up. Because, as ashamed as I am to admit it, this is one of my favorite dreams.
“Feel so good, Princess,” I murmur, torn between trailing up toward her perfect breasts or down toward her pussy.
She shifts against me, moaning softly.
Fuck yes.
The baby monitor crackles.
Wait. Rewind that back… Baby monitor?
I freeze, eyes flying open as reality crashes down around me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. This is not a dream.
I’m actually sleeping on my best friend's pull-out couch with one hand on her exposed stomach, fingers dangerously close to her waistband and my rock-hard cock nestled between her ass cheeks like it’s trying to make itself a home there.
So much for staying on my side of the bed last night.
I disentangle myself from her as discreetly as possible, slowly sliding my arm from beneath her before rolling to my back. A part of me instantly misses her warmth, but that’s a secret I’ll never tell.
Along with the fact that last night might just have been the best fucking sleep of my life. My expectations were low—I’m talking through-the-floor low. Two grown-ass adults on a couch bed isn’t exactly the recipe for peaceful slumber.
But somehow, having her tucked into my side lulled me into the deepest, most relaxing sleep of my life, even with James fussing on and off through the night.
Not to mention, I can’t shake the way her soft skin felt against my callused fingertips, or the way she fit so perfectly against me. Like she was meant to be there.
Nope. Absurd. Absolutely the fuck not. Clearly, I need caffeine. And maybe a cold shower.
My so-called objections are weaker than gas station coffee, seeing as I make no move to actually leave the couch.
Instead, I find myself lingering, watching her like a total weirdo. I can’t help it though. It’s not my fault she looks… sweet when she sleeps. Less like Satan and more like an angel. Different sides of the same coin, I suppose.
I can only imagine how insufferable she’d be if she knew the thoughts racing through my head.
“Get a grip,” I mutter, forcing myself up into a seated position, doing my best not to jostle her.
My efforts are in vain. Her eyes snap open the second I move.
“What?” she asks, immediately awake and alert. “What is it? Is James awake?”
“He’s fine, Princess.” I curl my fingers into a fist to stop myself brushing her hair away from her face. “Hasn’t made a peep.”
Her shoulders relax as she looks around the room, as if taking stock of it for the first time. A part of me hopes she won't notice how close we are to one another. But the way her dark eyes widen blows that hope to smithereens.
She stammers, looking up at me with wide eyes, every bit as unsure of how to handle the situation as I am. It’s safe to say we’re in uncharted territory.
Because, while her ass may no longer be pressed against my groin, we’re still close enough that a sheet of paper would struggle to fit between us.
“This is cozy,” she says, giving nothing away.
“That's one word for it,” I grumble, trying to ignore the way my dick is still standing at attention.
“You seem...” She glances down to where I’m tenting the sheet. “Well, let’s just say your body seems to be enjoying it more than you let on.” She wags her brows.
Deny, deny, deny. “Biological reaction, Princess. It has nothing to do with you.”
“Of course it doesn’t.” Her cheeks turn pink as she scoots away from me before springing out of the bed like the mattress is on fire.
My eyes immediately take in her barely covered form—I don’t care what she says, her so-called pajamas are damn near pornographic—and I groan. “Put some fucking clothes on, will you?”
“Sure thing, Jackass.” She rifles through her bag and mutters under breath before stomping toward the front door, instead of the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” I growl, hating how every little thing she does seems to keep me off kilter.
“My birth control isn’t in my bag, so I am going to see if it’s in my car, if that’s okay with you?”
I blush like a teenaged boy at the mention of birth control. “Perfectly fine.”
“Lovely, thanks for that.” She flings the door open and slips outside.
I finally haul myself off the couch and head into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. I don’t make it two steps before Scarlet comes barreling back through the door and all but throws herself into my arms, damn near knocking me to the floor in the process.
“What the fuck, Scar?” I grouse, propping us both up against the wall.
“There’s…” she wheezes, “a n-note on my car.”
It’s then I notice she’s shaking like a leaf. No, it’s more than that. She’s full on trembling.
“Let me see it,” I demand, furious at myself for brushing off the noise I heard last night.
She passes the crumpled paper my way. I try to disentangle myself from her, but she whimpers and clings to me even tighter.
“I’ve got you,” I soothe, rubbing one hand over the length of her back. “You’re safe.”
“Am I?” she cries, and I swear to god, something cracks wide open inside of me at how utterly broken she sounds.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Promise?” She blinks up at me with wet lashes.
I tug her closer. “Promise. Now let’s make some coffee and talk this through.”
No sooner than the words leave my mouth, the sound of James fussing crackles through baby monitor.
“Oh-okay.” She’s still breathing hard. “I-I’m going to check on James.”
I don’t look away from her retreating form until I hear her cooing at James on the monitor. “Good morning, sweetness.” Her voice warbles, and I swear something pinches inside my chest.
“But first coffee,” I mutter, setting the note down on the counter. Something tells me we’re going to need it.
I wait for the machine to gurgle to life, count to five, and then pick up the slightly damp page and begin reading.
Seeing you with him enrages me. He doesn’t deserve you. Doesn’t deserve your smiles and damn sure not your tears. Every time he touched you, I envisioned breaking his hands. You’re not his, Petal… you’re mine.
I’d like to think I’m a patient man, but my patience is running out.
-Your Sweetheart