23. Kai #2
I knock softly on her door so I don’t wake anyone, but she doesn’t answer. I knock again before gently opening the door.
As soon as I peer into the room, I find her, completely passed out on her bed, still wearing a towel.
I guess the shower really did help her relax.
I walk inside her room, carefully closing the door behind me. I move toward her bed and lay one of my hands gently on her shoulder. “Wren.”
She barely moves, but the towel is in a very precarious spot if it moves much more, so I need to wake her up.
I shake her the tiniest bit. “Wren. Wake up for a sec.”
Her eyes shoot open, and she sits straight up, thankfully, holding her towel in place.
“Oh, my God. I am so sorry. I decided just to sit for a minute and, well, here I am.” She shakes her head, still trying to wake up fully.
I chuckle. “It’s fine. I could tell you were exhausted. Are you good to find something to sleep in? I can go. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She looks down at her towel, then sighs. “I guess this is payback for me walking in on you in the shower.”
I purse my lips. “I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t exactly call this fair. There was no towel covering any piece of me when you first walked in.”
Her cheeks flush. “That’s true, not to mention the difference in self-care types.”
She freezes as soon as the words leave her mouth, and I know for a fact that an inside thought just broke through her filter.
“I didn’t hear you complaining,” I say, moving my gaze to anywhere else and putting my hands into my pockets so I don’t reach out and touch her. “Do you want me to grab you a shirt or something?”
Wren doesn’t answer. I look back in her direction, half-expecting her to be asleep again, not expecting what I find.
Her cheeks are flushed, but not from embarrassment; her chest is moving with each heavy breath she takes. Her eyes are full of want, her lips parted.
She looks beautiful. She always does, but even more so right now.
I know that look, and as much as I want her, I don’t want to rush things.
“Wren.”
“What?” Even her voice is thick with want.
Shit.
“If you tell me where your stuff is, I can get it for you.”
Her eyes never leave mine, not a single hint of hesitation in her gaze. “And if I tell you I want you to touch me, would you do that, too?”
For fuck’s sake.
I try my best to be a good guy, but how could anyone say no to that?
Taking a step closer to her, I search her face, looking for anything that might tell me she’s not ready for this. “Are you sure?”
She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as her cheeks deepen into a darker shade of pink. She nods.
At the edge of her bed, I reach down, placing a hand on either side of her before bringing my face level with hers. “You know the rules, Freckles. Always use your words.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Her words come out in a throaty whisper. “Please.”
I cover her mouth with my own, and she melts into the contact.
Moving one hand, I bring it to the back of her neck, bringing her even closer into me.
I run my tongue over the seam of her lips, asking for access that she doesn’t deny.
She opens, one of her hands moving to the strings of my hoodie, trying to bring me even closer.
“Tell me what you want,” I pant. “Tell me.”
“I want you to touch me,” she says, eyes as wild as I feel.
“Where?”
Wren has always been bold. She’s never been afraid of asking for exactly what she wants, and it seems that hasn’t changed.
She stands from the bed, pushing me back slightly. Her gaze never leaves mine as she drops her towel to the floor. “Wherever you want.”
Goddamn. She is perfect. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist. I drink her in; she is still the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. Well, also the only one I’ve ever seen.
Before I can tear my eyes away from her, she steps closer. “I do think it’s a little unfair that you have that many clothes on, though.”
Reaching back to the collar of my hoodie, I lift it up and over my head in one motion, causing her to laugh.
“Better?” I grin.
“Hmm.” She pretends to think it over before grabbing the hem of my shirt. “Better, but still not quite enough. Arms up.”
She quickly takes my shirt off, her hands roaming my chest as soon as it’s gone.
“There should be a rule about how many muscles a person can have,” she murmurs, bending forward to place a kiss against my chest.
My entire body trembles in response. It’s been so long since anyone has done so much as put their hands on me, and there’s a large difference between being eighteen and twenty-one.
Especially when the person touching me is Wren.
Her lips trail over my chest, soft enough to make every muscle tighten beneath them.
She lifts her gaze. “You okay?”
A breathless laugh leaves me. “I’m more than okay.”
Her hands continue their exploration, her fingers tracing lower, and my stomach tightens beneath her touch.
I catch her wrist, not because I really want her to stop, but if she keeps going, this will turn into more than I want it to. I want this to be about her, not me.
I intend to do exactly that. “You asked me to touch you, so let me.”
Her eyes narrow, though there’s no real irritation behind it. “You’re very smug for someone who was shaking thirty seconds ago.”