Julian
What are you talking about?”
She ignores me, curling toward me until her knees sink onto the mattress on either side of my waist. I try to sit up against the headboard, but she halts me with a hand on my chest. I’m left staring up at her in awe as she reaches for the waistband of my pants.
“The way I see it,” she says as I lift my hips, allowing her to slide the fabric down my legs, “we sort of broke your doctor’s most important rule. No physical exertion, remember? You’re supposed to be resting, which is definitely not what we were doing.”
“Uh-huh,” I say, following her logic so far. But that gets a little harder (ha) to do when her hand starts moving up and down my erection through my underwear.
“But now we’re in a bit of a situation.” She bites her bottom lip as she pulls my underwear down and my cock springs free. “Because how are you expected to get any rest when I’ve put you in this obscene state?”
There’s nothing between us this time when she touches me, and it becomes sweet, painful agony to concentrate on a single word she’s saying.
“We can’t have that.”
“Sure,” I say until the head above my shoulders finally catches up with what she said. “Wait, Leticia. You really don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I—”
“Shh.” She shuts me up by locking her lips to mine, and god if her tongue in my mouth isn’t a surefire way to make me lose my train of thought entirely.
“So when you think about it”—her voice is a breathy rasp as one hand grips the base of my cock and the other works me up and down in a tight grip, just the way I like—“we really do need to take care of this problem. For your health.”
“Well.” My throat works on a swallow as my eyes follow her hand’s movements. “If it’s for my health. Who could argue with that?”
“Exactly.” A smile lights up her face. “Do me a favor and lift your shirt up.”
I do as she asks, revealing my bare torso to her, but making sure my shirt is still covering something she shouldn’t see yet.
I’ve never been athletic, so aside from my tattoos, there isn’t much to look at but a flat chest with a sprinkling of hair across my barely defined pecs.
I figure her order has more to do with the mess I’m about to make than a desire to see me shirtless.
It’s good that she asked when she did, though, because I don’t last much longer before a stream of come erupts from my cock and lands in spurts across my chest.
“Feel better?” she asks as she falls to her forearms, slides down my body and—my fucking god, who is this devil woman in my bed?
—her tongue darts out to lick my chest clean.
I’m biting down on a whimper and fighting off a second hard-on when those warm licks become gentle sucks as she follows the trail of come down my chest. By the time she’s done, I’m rock hard all over again.
“Oh, dear. It looks like we have another problem on our hands.”
“Totally worth it. Come here.” I run a hand through her hair as she settles in beside me. Her hand rests over my chest, tracing the ink on my skin as her head falls against my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure that image of you will be living in my brain for the next fifty years or so.”
“That good, huh?”
“Leticia, my god, you have no idea.” I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes. “We still need a few more hours of sleep. Doctor’s orders.”
Two minutes after my pronouncement, that incensing alarm of hers goes off again. Leti chuckles and grabs her phone from the bedside table to shut it off. “Name?”
“Obliterated from my mind, and not because of the concussion.” When she nudges me with an elbow, I comply with a grumble. “Julian Gutierrez.”
“Day?”
“Officially October sixteenth, since the stupid sun is out.”
“I’ll close the curtains,” she says, but doesn’t get far. I grab her by the waist and pull her back into bed when she tries. “Julian. You need to rest.”
“I am resting.” I kiss her shoulder. “Ask me another question.” She’s silent, but I swear I can hear the overthinking going on in her head. “Ask me what this means, Leticia.”
“What did this mean to you?” Her voice is unsure, like she’s not ready to hear the answer, and I get it.
I don’t know how she really feels about me or what happens next.
My feelings are too big for what she can handle right now.
I’m terrified of scaring her off with the breadth of love I have for her, but what I feel can’t be contained for much longer.
And if I’m being honest, I’m getting tired of hiding it.
“Everything.”
The last thing I hear is her sharp intake of breath before I fall back asleep with the woman I love wrapped in my arms.
At ten a.m. after Leti’s last round of questions, I decide I’ve gotten all the sleep I’m going to get.
She calls her brother while I hop in the shower, avoiding the spray of water on my injury as much as possible.
After getting changed and putting on my glasses, the smell of coffee and toast greets me as I enter the living room.
“Andrew should be heading back soon,” she says, handing me a plate of toasted pumpkin brioche. There’s a smear of pumpkin butter on two pieces cut into triangles. “I found your Trader Joe’s stash. Hope you don’t mind, I already ate.”
“Help yourself to as much as you want,” I tell her. “You made coffee?”
“Yup,” she says. “I already had two cups. Is the Chobani creamer yours?”
“Andrew’s,” I tell her. “He’s a sucker for any hazelnut-related coffee concoction.”
“So am I,” she says, but averts her eyes at the subject of her brother. “He’s on his way over, which doesn’t give us much time to talk about…well, everything.”
“Would you prefer to wait?” I ask her, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.
“Maybe we should,” she says. “You’re still not all the way back yet. You need more rest. It’s been a long night for you—”
“It was a long night for both of us,” I tell her, resisting the need to touch her. To hold her in my arms like I did last night. “I have the whole day to rest and recover. One conversation isn’t going to derail that.”
“Are you sure?”
The crack of a key turning in the lock startles Leti away from me. Andrew steps inside, dark circles beneath his eyes, his button-down shirt from last night wrinkled. He takes one look at us and rolls his eyes. “You two a thing now?”
I cringe, and when I look at Leti, her eyes shift to the floor like it’s the most interesting thing she’s ever seen. It’s the worst possible timing for that question. We haven’t asked each other that yet, even if in my head Leti and I are already a done deal. But Leti? She needs more convincing.
“Prying into our personal lives already?” Leti scoffs. “That was quick.”
“Is that a no?” he asks, painting the picture of indifference, but I know better. “Why don’t you send me a postcard when you make up your mind.”
“I think”—I clap my hands and speak over whatever barb Leti’s about to let loose—“that you two need to talk. Preferably outside, so I don’t get another headache when it turns into the inevitable screaming match.”
I look Andrew in the eye, narrowing mine at him slightly, hoping he’ll remember our conversation from last night. He was on thin ice before that postcard comment, but now he’s pushing it. He has to be the one to extend the olive branch. Leti might not take it at first, but I can work on her later.
“Fine,” Leti says, only agreeing because of my injury. I’ll be milking that for as long as possible, thank you very much. “Let’s go outside and talk.”