Chapter 16
chapter sixteen
Summer
Iwake up the day before my twenty-ninth birthday with a man’s hand in my hair, gripping my scalp. For a brief moment, panic rises in my veins before the events of the night flood my memory.
Dayton.
My eyes drift open to see that he’s sleeping on his side, arm extended over to me, his hand tangled in my hair. He’s not hurting me, but his grip is firm. I don’t think I could move away from him if I tried to until he let go.
He probably slept like this with Noelle …
Ice seeps through my veins, and I try to pull away again. His grip tightens.
Shit.
Hair-pulling has never been one of my things, but I’ve never thought about it much either.
It’s been over eight months since I’ve had sex.
The position we’re in is bringing up searing, heated thoughts about how long it’s been since someone else has brought me any pleasure.
My chest and cheeks feel hot, but I’m trapped.
I need to get laid! I’m over touching myself and getting turned on by everything Dayton does.
I can’t decide if I should wake him up or suffer through this until he finally opens his eyes. I exhale slowly, closing my eyes and trying to stop the dirty train of thoughts beginning to form in my mind.
Anyone else. Not Dayton.
He’s still shirtless. I open my eyes and let them slowly trail from the veiny forearm, to the attached biceps, and to his muscular chest.
Sweat is starting to gather on my lower back. The arousal dampening my pajama shorts is bringing me to the edge of panic.
I have to get out of this bed.
I try pulling away again, growing more desperate, the more turned on I feel. A tiny smirk pulls up on the corner of his lips.
My mouth gapes. “Have you been awake this whole time?”
His eyes remain closed, as well as his fist. “Since the first pull.”
“Let me go, Dayton,” I grit out.
He groans and stretches back his other arm. The masculine sound rips through me, igniting even more of a heat in my core. My pussy throbs with arousal. I’ve never imagined what Dayton would be like in bed, but, fuck, with how intense he is out of it …
Noelle, you lucky bitch.
“Hmm,” he sighs, a deep, manly sound that tickles my skin before he finally lets go and opens his amber eyes.
I exhale, pulling away as goose bumps prickle over my skin. My nipples are definitely visible through this tank top, so I pull the extra muslin blanket up over my chest as I climb out of bed.
“You cannot stay here.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He reaches his arm behind his head, tucking it under the back of his neck. The movement emphasizes his biceps and triceps, and my mouth waters. I bite into my tongue to try and quench the arousal with pain.
“We never got the chance to share a room growing up. I thought it could be fun.”
I grit my teeth. “Liar. You’re just here to mess with me, to ruin my birthday.”
He frowns. “I would never. I’m shocked you think so low of me.” His frown morphs into a smirk.
“I’m serious. You cannot stay here.”
“Says who?”
“Says me! The person who already lives here.”
He clicks his tongue. “I’m afraid your authority here only accounts for fifty percent of decision-making power. The other fifty percent of this bed is mine. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you hadn’t been making decisions on the renovation without my approval.”
A swirl of panic begins to rise in me. Is he seriously planning on staying here? On sleeping in my bed?
If I wake up wrapped in his masculine scent with his grip in my hair again, I might genuinely start purring like a cat.
Just calm down. Be nice. Apologize. Maybe he’ll leave. It’s a futile plan, but it’s my only option.
I release a deep breath. “I’m sorry about the decisions I made without you. The mural was contracted weeks ago, before the whole lattice and tile fiasco. I’ve been good since then.”
“Hmm, if only I could trust you to keep being a good girl.” He sits up in my bed, the covers pooling around his waist, my pillow barrier falling away from his hips with the movement.
I half gasp, half scream, covering my eyes and turning away. There’s a massive tent situation happening under the blanket that was covered by the pillow until he moved.
“What is that?”
“Some people call it morning wood. But your reaction is making the reason for your divorce a lot clearer to me.”
I turn back to him, glaring as he stands. I refuse to lower my eyes and look, but, holy shit, he’s big.
“My divorce had nothing to do with my lack of bedroom knowledge.”
Maybe. Okay … maybe it did. Oh shit, did it?
My cheeks flush pink at the thought that maybe Andrew was stepping out on me because I was too vanilla in bed. We hadn’t had sex in months, after the miscarriage. I was depressed and hollow feeling.
I’m not a porn star, but I’ve never thought of myself as boring in bed …
until now. I was always willing to try new things and to give him head.
We even tried anal once before never ever doing it again.
Okay, we tried it for about half an inch before I put a very firm stop to it and told him that if he wanted to try it again, he should find a man to do it with because they’d probably enjoy it a lot more than I would.
“I can tell you’re really thinking about this.”
If he wasn’t here right now, throwing me a pity bone, I’d be curling up under my covers and questioning every sexual encounter I’d ever had.
I’ve only been with four men. Will took my virginity in high school, which ended in disaster when Dayton found out.
Then there was my first boyfriend in college, Blake, then Andrew and Axel.
Blake turned out to be gay. He came out to me our second semester of college, after discovering he had a crush on his roommate. I figured his sexual orientation was why sex with him had felt mechanical and forced. We hadn’t been together long enough for me to be too hurt by the breakup.
I met Andrew three months later, falling deeply in love with him in a matter of months. For the first year, our sex life was great. We experimented some, always at his request to change things up. I would finish less than half the time.
When he started cheating on me, it made me averse to any sexual contact for almost six months.
Being friends with Axel before we started dating was really what helped me to trust him enough to be intimate with someone again. He was gentle and slow in bed, but he never made my toes curl or my head spin. I can count my orgasms with him on one hand.
“Hey. Quit worrying about it. You can always gain more experience.”
I startle, realizing Dayton has stepped closer to me. He reaches out a hand, as if to touch my arm, but stops before making contact, dropping it to his side. His brows are furrowed with concern.
I lift my chin, hating myself for the way my throat tightens.
“I don’t need your pity or your advice on my sex life.
” I huff, moving toward my bathroom in the tiny studio that feels like it’s shrunk since Dayton has invaded it.
“In fact, what I need is for you to kindly vacate my humble abode so I can get the experience you so graciously suggested. Do you think there are any willing suitors on this island? Or should I fly into Miami and try to pick up a stranger who’s there on vacation? ”
His gaze darkens. “I thought I made it clear that I’m not leaving and risking you destroying our chance at a lucrative inheritance by overspending on this project.”
I shrug, a burst of giddiness surging through me when I realize I’ve struck a nerve with him.
“I see. Well, in that case, I’m sure it won’t be too difficult to secure an invite back to a gentleman’s hotel room.
Maybe I could pretend my car is broken down right outside the fire station. I love a man in uniform.”
His jaw tics. He crosses his arms over his torso, but doesn’t say another word as I disappear into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
I’m not going to explore the internal reasoning for why it looked like he was maybe a little jealous at the potential of me hooking up with a stranger or why I like how it feels so damn much.
Nope. Not going there.