Chapter Thirteen #2
His hands were strong, his long fingers cupping and molding my breasts as his lips and tongue tasted and teased, switching from one side to the other until I was mindless, writhing beneath him, my legs wrapped around him, my eyes staring blindly at the ceiling as I whispered his name.
"Vance."
I should stop him. Stop myself. We weren't supposed to be half naked on my couch, kissing.
Why weren't we supposed to be kissing?
My brain was at war, one side telling me to get up, to leave, that we were crossing a line. I wasn't drunk. I couldn't lie about this in the morning.
The other side of me wondered how fast I could strip off the rest of my clothes and his, desperate to know what it would feel like to have that long, thick cock inside me. I hadn't had anything inside me in months.
I didn't care about the complications. I just wanted Vance.
He rose up from between my legs, dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of my leggings, and stripped them off. The less rational side of my brain gave a resounding cheer.
Yes! Naked with Vance. I'd been waiting forever to be naked with Vance.
The thinking part of me was drowning. I wanted this. Every part of my body was hot and needy and ready. I'd wanted this man since the second I saw him, and if he was tired of waiting, so was I. His fingers skated up my inner thigh, stopping just at the crease of my hip.
So close, yet not nearly close enough.
His mouth took mine again, distracting me, stopping me from begging.
I wanted.
His fingertip found my clit and swirled in a firm circle.
Holy fucking God.
Sensation splintered through my body, the pleasure almost too intense to bear. My neck arched, and I tore my mouth from his to gasp, my heart pounding in my chest, breath tight in my lungs.
His finger pressed inside, and he whispered, "Fuck, baby, fuck. You feel so good."
I groaned. I'd lost the power of speech. If I could've said anything, I would have agreed with him. Not about me.
But God damn, his fingers were perfect.
Heaven. I couldn't begin to imagine what his cock would feel like. A second finger joined the first and pumped in and out, in and out, the heel of his palm pressing on my clit.
I rocked against him, my hips thrusting up to take more, my breath hitching in my lungs.
"Fuck, Magnolia, I have to go get a condom. Don't fucking move. I'll be right back. Don't fucking move."
He was gone in a blink, leaving me alone, my flushed skin suddenly cold without his body against mine.
Without Vance, I was acutely aware of how wet I was between my legs. And how naked. I sat up, my leggings and underwear tangled around one foot.
What was I thinking?
Was I about to have sex with Vance?
No. No, no, no.
Hadn't I already decided this was a bad idea? A terrible idea. Didn't I have a million reasons I couldn't sleep with Vance?
One kiss and I’d lost my mind.
No more kissing.
His feet thumped on the stairs. I jerked up to stand, panicked.
We couldn't do this. It was going to change everything, and I was going to end up with my heart completely shattered.
I yanked my tank top back down and leaned over, struggling to get my bare foot back in my leggings before Vance returned to the living room. He came through the door just in time to see me hopping on one foot, wiggling the stretchy fabric over my hips.
He still had his shorts on, but they did little to hide the length of his erection.
My knees wobbled at the thought of what I was denying myself. Heat and need pulsed between my legs. Inwardly, I swore, cursing myself for being such a fucking idiot.
"Magnolia," Vance said, condom in hand, his eyes shadowed. "Don't leave. We don't have to do this if you're not ready, but don't leave. Don't run out on me again."
So he knew I was lying when I said I didn't remember our first kiss. Vance was too smart to fall for that bullshit.
Damn it.
I didn't want to have this conversation.
I couldn't look him in the eyes when I said, "We can't do this. I'm so sorry. I should've stopped it sooner. I shouldn't have kissed you, but we can't do this."
Vance's hand dropped to his side. "Why? Why not?"
"Why not?" I asked, my voice tight and a little hysterical. "Why not? For a million reasons."
"Give me one," he said.
"Because I just broke up with my fiancé," I said.
Vance crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw. "A month ago. You broke up with the dickhead a month ago. Give me a better reason."
"Because it's confusing," I said. "I can't play house with you and Rosie and then start sleeping with you. I can't be casual. I don't want to end up getting hurt, okay?"
"Who says I want this to be casual?" Vance demanded. "How could you think I would want anything with you to be casual?"
"Because I've never seen you do anything else.
What do you expect me to think? You never say anything about having feelings for me, other than comments about liking the way my ass looks, and then you just kiss me, and then we're almost having sex.
How am I supposed to think it's anything but casual?
I'm just convenient. And you know what? I'm tired of being convenient.
That's all I've ever been. Convenient. I want more than that. "
"So do I, God dammit," Vance shouted.
I stared at him, confused. He sounded sincere, but it just didn't add up. He'd had plenty of time to say something, anything, about wanting a relationship. Even to ask me out on a date.
He'd kissed me a month ago, and he hadn't said a word about wanting more.
Now, he was exhausted, in no frame of mind to go find a hookup, and we ended up naked on my couch?
I didn't want to think Vance was lying, but I couldn't afford to believe he was telling me the truth. I had to look out for myself.
"I'm sorry,” I said, looking at the ground as I rushed past him and up the stairs.