18. Show Me
SHOW ME
Fisher did end up having a concussion, but it was mild, just as Drie had thought.
She still demanded that he return home with her so she could keep an eye on him through the night.
A worry that proved unfounded as he’d woken that morning with no lingering symptoms, but despite the disappearing act he’d pulled the night prior, he did not put up nearly as much of an argument as she’d expected.
It had been months since they’d reconnected in their park. Months of talking and study session lunches and good night texts as she went to bed alone. Months of waiting, and now, she knew that he had been holding out on her.
He’d seemed so adamant about taking it slow. She thought it was sweet and considerate, and it made her love him all the more. But Drie missed sex. And despite whatever it was that he thought he needed to prove to her, she was ready.
She stood when he stepped from the bathroom with a pair of basketball shorts low on his hips, heading for the bedroom door while shaking a hand towel through his wet hair.
He must’ve thought she’d already left the room as he stilled in surprise when Drie sidled up behind him, grabbing his forearm to stop him from reaching the doorknob.
She released her hold when he lowered his arm back to his side, running her fingertips up his back and along his shoulder, just lightly enough to make him shiver.
“What are you doing?” Fisher gritted out, letting the hand towel fall to the floor as he pressed his free hand against the door.
Drie dragged her nails across his smooth skin, eyeing the muscles that rippled in response.
She bit down on her lip as she teased him, the touch unintentionally having nearly as much of an impact on herself as she wanted to have on him.
She traced along his collarbone before moving down the center of his chest. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, brushing her thumb over his nipple. He groaned, his chest heaving under her hand. “I’m seducing you.”
“We shouldn’t—” He kept his eyes straight forward. “You asked for time.”
She let her hands drag down his stomach, tracing the ridges there before teasing under the band of his shorts as she walked around his body to stand before him, forcing herself into his line of sight.
Looking up, she scanned his face, cataloging his tense jaw and pupils so blown that only the grey rims of his irises were visible.
“You don’t want to?” she teased with a faux pout, placing a hand firmly on his chest and advancing, running the hand up and around the back of his neck as her body came flush against his, relaxing into the feel of how naturally they fit together.
Fisher scoffed, and with eyes of steel fire, he finally moved, threading one hand through Drie’s hair and the other bunching her shirt at her waist. She wasn’t sure if the hold was to keep her from coming closer or backing away, but she curved into the touch with a contented sigh.
“Why are you torturing me?” he asked, his eyes blazing. “You were the one who asked to take it slow. Glacial, you said. You’re making it very difficult to respect that.”
“Well”—Drie smirked—“I’m not really in the mood to be respected right now.”
The corner of Fisher’s lip twitched, and his eyes widened, looking to be teetering on the verge of either laughing or passing out before his chin lowered, and he brushed his lips against her cheekbone in a lingering caress.
“What is it that you want, then?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing against her ear.
“I want you,” she answered honestly, her breath growing shallow beneath his gentle touches.
“You have me.” His voice moved to the other side as he nibbled on the lobe. “Want to know what I want?” he asked, his voice reverent as he moved back toward her neck, sucking at the point just below her ear. “I want forever.”
“Yes.” She sighed, enjoying the way his hands tightened their hold at her immediate agreement. “You love me?”
“With every part of me,” he vowed.
“Then show me.”
She could see the surrender in his eyes as he pulled back, a moment before he answered her summons, meeting her with a searing kiss. She could feel his erratic pulse racing beneath her palm, and his desire served to fuel her own to new heights. She rose to her tiptoes, straining to get closer.
Warm hands dropped to the backs of her thighs, and he pulled her up to straddle his hips, pressing her into the door at her back.
Vaguely, she was aware of the doorknob stabbing into her hip, but it was overshadowed by everything Fisher.
The bruising grip of his calloused hands on her skin, the subtle tremble of his body, the firm evidence of his arousal pressing deliciously against the ache between her thighs.
With every rock of his body, she gasped and sighed and scrambled for better purchase—to get him closer, to kiss him deeper.
It was everything she’d been missing. It was almost too much, and it was nowhere near enough.
She yanked her head back, breaking contact long enough to growl, “Bed.” It came out garbled, but Fisher understood.
He stepped back until his knees met the mattress and dropped like a stone, Drie landing in his lap and rolling her hips, grinding against him in a desperate search for friction.
Her skin burning, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and jerked it up, anxious to feel his skin against hers.
But it snagged, somewhere between her chin and her elbows.
She adjusted her grip, but couldn’t get enough purchase with the angle of her arms. The struggle was beginning to take her out of the moment, so she stilled, waiting.
“Help me,” she gritted out as Fisher chuckled.
“Shh,” he whispered as he leaned forward and nibbled at her collarbone before quickly running his tongue over the same spot in a soothing motion.
Her gasp melted into a moan, and she let her arms relax on top of her head, the shirt momentarily forgotten as she got lost in the feel of his mouth.
The vision deprivation made the anticipation sharpen, every touch a spark of kindling to her sensitized nerves, threatening to send them both up in flames.
She gasped as he dragged a finger along the edge of her strapless bra, unclipping the back and pulling it down in one smooth motion, his thumb moving closer to the hardening bud with each pass of his hand, until he was right there, and he pulled back, removing his hands from her entirely.
Drie gave a shimmy in protest, and she groaned when his mouth replaced his fingers—hot and wet and demanding as he rolled the nipple on his tongue, his hands splaying around her rib cage to hold her steady.
She arched into him as each suck sent a bolt of fire to her center, heating her blood and making her rock harder, faster, desperate for relief.
He hummed as he switched sides, the vibration only adding to the sensations.
The movement of her hips became erratic as the tension built within her, spiraling tighter and tighter.
Her fingernails bit into the skin of her own forearms, and the sounds she was making bordered precariously on the line of outright sobbing.
Fisher paused, sliding one hand up her back soothingly to rest gently over her shoulder. “Drie? You oka—”
“Don’t you dare stop,” she cried out.
“I’m not stopping.” He grunted with a strained chuckle, the hand at her waist falling away as he reached up and tugged the shirt free of her arms. He caught her freed hands in one of his, and with the other arm wrapped tightly behind her shoulders, he spun them around, pressing her down into the mattress below. “Just need to feel you.”
“Hurry,” she answered, her eyes greedy as she watched him slide the shorts off and snag a condom from her bedside table. Then he was back, his arms wrapping beneath her as he surprised her by pulling her up to straddle his waist at the edge of the bed, back in the same position as before.
“How’s this?” he asked, the words trailing off into a groan as she settled over him, sinking down one perfect inch at a time.
“Not gonna lie”—she huffed, using the leverage of her knees to rise back up before taking him all in one smooth drop that made his head fall forward on a moan—“I kinda miss the shirt.”
He barked a laugh, shaking his head as he tunneled his arms beneath hers to wrap his hands around her shoulders, and with his next thrust, he pressed her down to meet him, his pubic bone grinding against her center as he held her securely.
He tilted his face up, chasing her lips for a kiss before his head returned to her chest. His fingers teased one nipple in a pinch as he sucked the other into his mouth…
and she was lost, her thighs shaking as her head fell back, his arm like heated iron the only thing keeping her upright.
He kept his hold firm as she rode it out, resting his forehead at the base of her neck, his breath coming in short bursts against her chest as he tensed, finding his own release with a throaty moan.
Once Drie’s body relaxed and she slumped against him, Fisher let them fall back slowly, cushioning her descent.
He brushed his lips against her brow in a chaste kiss before climbing to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom.
She tilted her head to the side when he reappeared, appreciating the sinuous lines of muscle he kept hidden beneath those work pants, no doubt a result of working on cars all day, then squeaked in surprise when he broke the spell by slipping his arms beneath her shoulders and knees, lifting her into the air.
Her head met the pillow before she had time to voice a complaint, and she rolled to her side, taking in his cheeky grin. He was completely unbothered—a far cry from the panic in his eyes when he’d run out of her apartment just two nights prior. “There. I helped you,” he teased.
Drie pointed a limp finger at him. “I should kick your ass for that shirt trick.”
“It wasn’t a trick.” Fisher winked at her, sliding a loose strand of hair behind her ear with fingers trembling ever so slightly. “Just a happy accident. Shouldn’t you be relaxing on cloud nine right now?”
“It’s been months.” She scanned his body leisurely, smirking when his cock reacted to her perusal, returning to half-mast. “And it seems that we’ve both got some backlogged sexual tension to work through.”
“Well, in that case, I should probably call in a sick day.” Fisher smiled, rolling his big body on top of hers.
“Probably so.” She smirked, enjoying the feel of his weight pressing her down into the soft sheets.
He lowered his mouth to hover a hair’s breadth above hers. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I know,” she answered, a slow smile stretching her lips as she basked in the truth of the words she saw reflected in those warm, steely blue eyes. “I love you too.”