Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jeff
I watch her tiptoe across my bedroom, the morning sun streaming through the blinds, sending streaks of light reaching toward her.
I can’t blame the light. I want to reach for her, too.
Pull her back in bed and tuck her up against me so that time can freeze around last night.
Her effort to not wake me is both endearing and comical as she steps in the middle of a wire hanger and gets it stuck on her foot.
“I’m awake,” I tell her before she kills herself. I lift myself up onto my elbow.
She jumps, then rushes into the open bathroom and scoots behind the door so I can only see her face and rumpled hair.
“Devon, are you seriously trying to hide your body from me? I just spent the better part of ten hours doing things to you that—”
“That was under the haze of first sex.”
“And second sex. Third sex. Fourth—”
“I can count, Jeff. Math teacher. You just don’t need to see the details of my ass at the butt crack of dawn. No pun intended.”
“You have two freckles on the left cheek and a beauty mark directly beneath the right.”
She rolls her eyes and shuts the bathroom door.
I lay my head back onto the pillow. Thirty-four years lived and the last twenty-four hours are by far the most fun I’ve had in all of that time.
My abs actually hurt from laughing. And obviously the rest of me is pleasantly sore from everything else.
There are no words to describe the ‘everything else.’
“Jefffffff,” I hear her voice over the running water.
She pulls open the door, a toothbrush hanging out the side of her mouth.
She’s wrapped in one of my black and white towels.
Before I have a chance to ask her where the hell she got a toothbrush from, she lifts the giant box of condoms my mom sent me my first week here.
“Should I be concerned by the sheer quantity of condoms you have here?” she asks before turning and spitting into the sink.
“Why would you be?” I ask, sitting up against the headboard.
She rinses her mouth, taps the toothbrush, then puts it down.
“Ummmm. Well, typically you don’t buy the oversized value pack unless you’re planning on having lots of random sex,” she explains, lifting a chain of the packaged condoms up and letting it fall like an accordion back into the box.
“And?” I lift my brows and watch her put the condoms back on the counter where I’d left them last night.
She takes a few steps back into the room, sidestepping the hanger from before.
“Anddd, I guess I’m asking if you’re having lots of random sex.” She wrinkles her nose, as if she’s sorry she even asked. “I’m sorry. This is none of my business. You can say it is none of your business, Devon. This is just sex, so—”
I cut her off before she twists the knife further into my gut. “Thanks for the permission, but it is your business.”
She sits on the end of the bed so her back is to me.
Still just sex to her? I’m tempted to draw this out.
Torture and tease her to make up for the fact that she’s using my heart like a speed bag.
But the truth is I can’t even bear the thought of her feeling like she’s second fiddle.
Not after the pain I witnessed the other night.
“There are exactly four condoms missing from that box. Figure out what that means, math teacher.”
She plops backward onto the mattress. Her hair fans out around her head and she narrows her eyes at the ceiling. I know she’s not still processing the information. She’s moved on to the next thought. I interrupt whatever she’s stewing on.
“They’re from my mom, by the way.”
She chokes on a laugh.
“What?” Her entire face lights up.
“The condoms are from my mother. One of her goofy care package items,” I explain.
Devon purses her lips and nods. She’s holding back. I can tell by the set of her jaw that she wants to bust my balls and is biting her tongue. Probably because it has to do with my mother. And she knows how worried I am about what’s going on back home with the finances.
“You can go there. I can see that brain of yours coming up with like a dozen mom jokes,” I say.
She scrubs her palms over her face and shakes her head.
“That’s not true. I have nothing to say about your mother encouraging you to be a man-whore—a safe and protected man-whore. I think that’s a really lovely sentiment. I’m just wondering—”
I lean forward a little so I can reach out and touch her hair, twirl it around a finger.
She’s smirking up at me, her feet dangling and kicking over the edge of the bed.
Seeing her like this, wrapped up in my towel, comfortable in my bed, makes me happier than it should.
Too much joy is a dangerous thing. Especially if you’re not sure if the other person feels the joy the same way.
“Again, none of my business,” she starts, “but you are a really good-looking guy—”
“Thank you.”
“And you are a foot doctor.”
“An orthopedic surgeon.”
“Right. That’s what I said.” She smiles. “And you’ve been here for like almost five months, right?”
“Is there a point coming soon?” I ask, tugging a little at the piece of hair I have and then releasing it.
She flips over, puts her chin in her palms, and props herself up on her elbows.
“I guess I’m just asking why. Why haven’t you used more condoms?” she asks.
I see a slight flush creep up her cheeks from her neck. This is interesting. Not only is it apparent that she cares about my answer from the way she’s studying my face, but it is fascinating that she’s clueless enough to even ask.
She doesn’t let me answer before she starts to babble. “I mean I’ve seen the way women respond to you and Kev told me that the nurses had a pool on who would get you in bed first. There can’t be a shortage of—"
“I wanted you,” I interrupt. That simple.
Her lip quirks up on one side.
“The whole time?”
Now she’s just fishing.
I nod. “The whole time.”
And the truth is worth the dazzler she gives me.
She crawls up the bed, puts one knee on either side of me so that the towel rides up, exposing just enough of her to get me hard.
She kisses me sweetly and I slip a hand up the towel, move my hand against her in the way I know she likes. She whimpers. Pushes down against me.
“Devon,” I say in her ear.
“Hmmm?” Her eyes are closed as she grinds against my touch.
“It was worth the wait,” I tell her. Her eyes open and soften as she dips her forehead to mine.
“There are still ninety-six condoms left in that box,” she says. “Makes me think of that beer bottle song.”
She starts to hum.
I flip her over into the pillows and the towel comes loose around her, opening up so I can see everything. She lets me look this time and when I meet her gaze again, I tell her, “I’m sure we can put a dent in that.”