Chapter 22
chapter twenty-two
Summer
Ijerk awake in the middle of the night. My throat is parched, so I reach over for my glass of water and gulp down half of it. The AC vent on the wall is blasting cold air right over the bed, dragging the temperature down.
I can sense his warm presence in bed next to me. I lean back, pushing my body up against his. I sigh into him, my back pressed to his chest. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me tighter against him as I drift back to sleep.
Something thick and hard is poking me in the ass. Arousal pools in my belly as I grind into him. I’m still half asleep, wondering if this is another spicy dream or reality.
He groans into my ear. Shivers run up and down my body like raindrops on water.
Not a dream …
I exhale, arching farther into him. His fingers wrap around my hip bone, squeezing me hard as he pulls me back.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His warm breath coats my ear.
“Playing your game better than you.”
We go from spooning one second to him pinning me to the mattress the next. The side of my face is pressed against the pillow, and his hand is braced against the headboard. I gasp as his big body weighs me down with delicious, muscled thighs caging my legs in on both sides.
“What kind of game are we playing today?” His morning voice is deep and gritty as he rolls his hips.
My words are caught in my throat, lust making my brain feel hazy. “The kind where you don’t chicken out before kissing me.”
He breathes out a laugh, my head short-circuiting when he grinds into me, only my shorts and his boxers separating us. He rubs his erection across my ass, anticipation vibrating through my body. My legs would be shaking if I wasn’t trapped between him and the mattress.
He lifts up and flips me over, manhandling me like I don’t weigh a thing. I knew he was strong, but after only dating men on the smaller side, whose shirts would fit my skinny arms just fine, I’m melting internally at his ability to toss me around like a rag doll.
I was hoping he’d kiss me, but instead, he lowers down to press his face into my shoulder, inhaling at the side of my neck, where my hair is bunched up.
He opens his mouth, pressing his lips and teeth into me like he’s going to bite down.
I freeze. He lingers for a few moments before he pulls back his mouth and starts to slowly lower himself down farther, putting his face right between my breasts over my sweater.
He reaches up a hand to squeeze one, and I fail at holding in a gasp.
He continues farther down, his finger grazing over the skin near my hip bone and the waistband of my shorts.
“These little fucking shorts she likes to wear,” he mumbles to himself.
It feels like I’m being worshipped, like he’s savoring every dip and curve as he travels down, pressing open-mouthed kisses as he goes. His hands squeeze the dip of my waist on both sides. He scrapes with his fingers and presses a kiss to my belly button.
“I want you to know that every day of my life for the last thirteen years, I’ve thought about doing this.” Then he tucks his finger under my waistband and tugs my shorts down over my hips and butt.
My eyes are glued to his face to gauge his reaction to seeing me for the first time.
Just like with my hair on my shoulder, he dips his face in and inhales my scent.
He groans with satisfaction before his amber eyes lift to meet mine.
And he fucking grins, maintaining eye contact with me as his tongue swipes out to lick the seam of my lips.
I gasp, pleasure bolting through me like lightning. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Then tell me to stop.”
I can’t.
After a brief pause, the tip of his tongue darts out and brushes over me. A deep groan escapes him. “Mmm.”
Stars circle my brain, like my own personal galaxy is twinkling over me with Dayton’s face between my legs. This is a level of ecstasy I’ve never felt before. The others who tried would rush through it to get to the main course, but he’s savoring every bite.
He kisses my inner thigh, placing his hands on the tops of them to spread my legs.
Once his tongue finds my center again, my eyes roll back in my head.
For some reason, I’m afraid that coming too quickly will give him ammunition in the game I don’t want him to have.
The fleeting thought disintegrates when he uses his fingers to spread my lips to give him better access.
The wetness of his mouth and my own arousal are pooling on the sheets.
He pulls back, blowing cold air on my clit.
I jolt at the erotic sensation, a whimper escaping my lips.
“How evil and selfish am I being now, Cupcake? Do you really hate me?”
He throws my former insults in my face while controlling every sensation in my body with the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t wait for an answer—thank fuck, because I couldn’t speak right now if I tried. His mouth continues to suck and lick my pussy like he’s never tasted anything sweeter.
My body is surging with energy, the pleasure starting to overwhelm my senses. I reach my hands down to grip his hair, my fingers scraping against his scalp.
“Dayton … Dayton, I’m going to come.” I’m writhing on the sheets, blocking out everything except the swirling of his tongue and the pressure of his hands gripping my legs.
He doesn’t stop, pushing me all the way to the edge and tipping me over. I cry out, my muscles tensing as it all becomes too much and an orgasm rips through me. It’s the first one I’ve had from another person in so long, and I forgot how fucking good it felt when someone else did it.
Aftershocks wreck my body as I come down from the high. He’s gone completely still as my eyes find his. His hands are on my thighs, but the look on his face is pure awe as he licks his lips.
I’m panting, trying to catch my breath and think clear, concise thoughts about what just happened.
“What did we just do?” I whisper.
His throat bobs. He squeezes me one last time before slowly releasing me and sitting up.
I grab the throw blanket on the bed, pulling it over my legs and hips to cover myself, suddenly feeling way too exposed.
Postorgasmic clarity hits me like a train.
I jerk my legs back, needing to put space between me and him. My body is cooling down rapidly.
What have I done?
Red-hot memories flood my brain like a montage. The high-school bullying, the isolation and struggle to make friends here, the silence and avoidance over the last ten years—it all plays like a movie in my head. I start panting, a wave of panic overcoming me.
No, no, no, it’s been a long time. I don’t need this right now!
There’s no way to stop it. My throat dries up.
He’s still on the bed, his broad chest and muscled shoulders flexing as he reaches for me. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t touch me,” I choke out, shrinking away from him. I hate being touched when I’m having a panic attack.
His eyes fill with concern, but he drops his hand and backs away, standing up from the bed.
I curl up in the blanket, shutting my eyes. It’ll pass if I just lie here, taking deep inhales and slowly exhaling. I don’t know how much time passes before I hear the door open and shut.
Finally, I sit back up in bed to see that he’s gone.
After a long, steamy shower, where I shave almost my entire body, shampoo my hair, and let a deep conditioning mask sit in it for ten minutes, I dress in my most comfortable yellow cotton dress. It’s like a muumuu, but with cute spaghetti straps.
I comb my coconut and bergamot leave-in spray through my hair. I leisurely do my makeup routine with tinted SPF, mascara, and a dab of blush and brow gel.
When I finally finish, I grab a can of my favorite coconut water and step outside, headed for the beach.
A nice walk along the sand, listening to the waves, is just what I need.
I shut the door behind me, look up, and freeze.
Dayton is standing there, still wearing the gray sweats he slept in, with his leather sandals and no shirt. His hair looks like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times.
Did other people get to see bedroom Dayton?
Okay, probably. And you care … why?
He’s staring at me with bloodshot eyes. I lower my hand when I realize I’m chewing on my thumbnail.
“I, uh … I picked up some food. Didn’t know what you’d be in the mood for, so I got sushi and poke …
which, I guess, is kind of the same thing.
It’s the tsunami roll, the moana roll, and the sweet onion bowl, with soy sauce.
I also grabbed a sub sandwich because I saw that red food truck you used to go to in high school with your mom.
I was headed back, but then I stopped for a burger from Iggy’s with caramelized onions, fried pickles, and truffle fries.
I know you like it that way. They were advertising Diet Cherry Coke with cream, so I just grabbed an extra-large one in case you were thirsty after … eating.”
He’s rambling. Dayton never rambles. In thirteen years, I’ve never heard this man try to fill the silence with so many words.
And he bought me food, copious amounts of my favorite foods.
I stare at him and at the brown paper bags nearly covering half the round picnic table. I blink twice before stepping forward.
“Um, thank you for getting lunch. I guess I am hungry.”
He nods, rubbing his hands together. “Yeah, well, dig in. I, uh, I’m gonna go grab a shirt.”
He saunters off toward the studio, gently shutting the door.
What the hell just happened?