Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
LAINEY
Lying in the beyond luxurious bed, I stare at the ceiling and wonder how in the hell I allowed any of this to happen. I didn’t just allow it; I ran straight for it, headfirst, no damn brains. Now that I’m here, and this is real, I’m wondering if Viking was right and if I just fucked up… big time.
Rolling onto my side, I slip my hands beneath my pillow and stare at the bedroom door. I’m not sure how long I stare at the door—wondering what the hell is going on, what’s going to happen, and what the fuck is wrong with me—when said door slowly opens.
There, standing in the doorway, lit by the dim lighting somewhere in the distance, is Paul. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of loose sleep pants. They’re low on his hips, his torso on full display, and… I am not disappointed in what I see.
He’s not as big as Viking, not as tall, his muscles aren’t stacked on top of one another, and he’s definitely not as rough. Paul is polished. That’s the best way to describe him. Even now, with his hair a little messy, it’s still fairly tidy.
“What are you doing here?” I ask softly when he doesn’t make a move. Pushing up slightly, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as I watch him.
He takes a step inside, then another, leaving the door open, but he doesn’t turn the light on. “You’re here,” he murmurs.
My heart begins to race, and the realization of what I’ve done starts slamming into me like a freaking freight train. I swallow hard. There is a lump in my throat, and I try to make it go down, but it’s stuck there, so my words come out in a raspy whisper.
“I’m here.”
He hums as he continues on his way toward me, and then he climbs into the bed, and I feel the need to lie back on the pillow as he shifts his body not only forward but also hovering above me.
Reaching up, I curl my fingers around his biceps, holding on to him. His eyes are so dark that they look like black coffee as he peers down at me. My breath hitches, mainly because I don’t know what’s happening, and I begin to tremble with anticipation.
“Paul,” I croak.
Instead of telling me to be quiet or acting annoyed by my calling his name, he lowers his head, and my breath hitches. His mouth is so close to mine, almost touching his lips to my own, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he moves down the bed, his body staying in contact with mine the entire way.
What he didn’t know is that I’m naked. I had nothing to wear to bed. I washed my panties in the sink after I took a shower, and they’re drying in the bathroom. I try to pull him up, not sure what’s going on, but I don’t think we’re going to do… that.
I don’t even know him.
But when he disappears beneath the comforter, his lips slide across my lower belly, and when a moan rumbles in my chest, escaping my lips, I realize that my body is going to let him do whatever.
It’s ready.
Maybe I’m ready, too.
Then I feel his lips just above my mound, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. His fingers gently grip the insides of my thighs, and my legs spread. I can’t believe I’m doing this. But before I can say or do anything to stop him, I feel his mouth between my legs.
Right. There.
Pressing my lips together, I lift my hips without even thinking about it.
My body moves of its own volition. His tongue flattens, sliding through my folds, then he sucks on my clit.
I can’t remember the last time someone was between my legs, but even if I could remember, I don’t think it could compare.
I arch my back, and my brain completely short-circuits. His tongue works between my legs, slipping inside me, fucking me the way his cock would. I don’t know if this is supposed to be a precursor of what’s to come…. but if it is, I’m here for it.
Planting my feet in the bed, I lift my hips, my legs opening a bit wider to give him every inch of access I can possibly give him. Closing my eyes, I whimper when his tongue circles my clit and he sucks, then flicks his tongue there.
My breathing comes out in heavy pants as I rise higher and higher with each stroke of his tongue. He shifts from my clit to my center and back. My head moves from side to side. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to do this. I feel like I’m about to claw my skin off.
I need to come.
Reaching between my legs, I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and then I ride his face. I feel his hands grip my ass cheeks before he lifts my hips and holds me there. To his face, to his mouth, so he can drink me in.
Oh. My. God.
Then it happens. The buildup is so huge that I wonder if the release is going to be less than exhilarating. Sometimes when I’m touching myself, it drops off even when I think it’s going to be amazing and huge.
But then he does something with his tongue. I don’t know what it is, a flick, a swirl, something, and then it happens. I pull his hair, moving his face closer. I come. Warmth flows throughout my entire body.
My pussy squeezes as the orgasm consumes me. It is hard and fast but lasts so goddamn long. I can’t believe this is real. Every muscle in my body clenches, then tightens and freezes as he continues to lick me until there is nothing left of me… I’m boneless.
Then I feel his lips touch my inner thigh before he moves up my body. Only when his face is directly in front of mine does my lazy, hazy mood instantly vanish. He’s going to want more. My eyes widen, and panic sets in.
“I’m not going to fuck you until we’re married, baby.”
His words come out in a whisper, and my whole body shivers. “I didn’t bring you anything to wear, and I’m sorry about that, but it was so fucking worth it.”
Then, before I can say anything, he tilts his head to the side, and his mouth is on mine. His kiss isn’t hard; it’s chaste. He doesn’t deepen it. Then he shifts back slightly, his lips twitching into a smile, and he rolls off me and stands beside the bed.
“I’ll get you a shirt to sleep in and some clothes for the next few days.”
Without a word, he’s gone. A few moments later, he walks back into the room with a folded-up black T-shirt. He places it on the bed next to me, his eyes searching mine. He doesn’t say anything else, though. Instead, he turns his back on me and walks away.
I watch him go, wondering what the hell just happened and also smiling because it felt that great. But my smile fades almost instantly. Viking. That should have been him between my legs.
My stomach rolls.
Guilt consumes me.
Scrambling from the bed, I rush to the bathroom and sink to my knees before I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Throwing my arm over the back of the seat, I rest my forehead there as tears fill my eyes. I can’t believe I did that… and liked it. No, I loved it.
I don’t owe Viking anything. We’re not together, and he’s made it clear we never will be, but being with Paul solidified that there is no more hope. It’s gone. Vanished. Dashed. And it makes me feel sick.
Stumbling back to bed, I tug on the T-shirt and slip between the sheets. Turning my back to the door, I close my eyes and allow myself to sleep. I’m not sure how long I sleep, an hour, maybe four, but when I hear a noise in the kitchen, I crack my eye open to the sunlight spilling into my room.
Sitting up, I shift my gaze over to the doorway. The door is open. I don’t remember if Paul closed it last night after his midnight visit or not. There is another noise, and then the scent of coffee percolating fills my nose.
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I slowly stand and then sway. Placing my hand against my stomach, I close my eyes and attempt to gather my strength. I threw up everything I had inside me last night. I’m hungry. Like, beyond hungry. I need carbs.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, I make my way toward the kitchen. When my eyes find him, my feet stop. My entire body freezes. His back is to me, his hair still slightly messy, no shirt, and low-slung sleeping pants.
Hot.
He’s so damn hot.
But I don’t think I want him.
Then he turns his head, his eyes find mine, and a smile plays on his lips. “Hey,” he calls out softly. His gaze slides down to the hem of his shirt, which hits me at midthigh, barely covering my ass. His lips twitch into a smirk before his gaze slides back up to meet my own. “Morning, baby.”
That should send shivers of desire throughout my entire being, but it doesn’t. It just makes me feel… sad. Maybe it’s what I need. Sadness. I should feel this way and just let it consume me so it can get out of my system.
I need to get over whatever I’ve been feeling about Viking. It needs to get into my thick head that he doesn’t want me. No matter how badly I want him, it doesn’t matter that I’ve fallen in love with him. The man does not want me. And I need to accept that.
“You want some breakfast?” he asks. “We have a meeting for lunch around one.”
Shifting my attention over to the microwave, I notice that it’s eight in the morning.
I can’t believe I slept in so late. I can’t remember the last time I woke up past six in the morning.
Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times as I think about how to respond to him. I’m starving, and I need coffee.
“I would love something. I can make it if you want me to. And coffee. I would love coffee.”
He chuckles, shifting his attention back to whatever he’s doing before he clears his throat, and I wonder if this is what life would really be like with Paul, or if he would become a different person.
Is this all for show?
I sink down on the chair at the bar and watch as he moves around the kitchen.
He doesn’t ask me what I want. He just gets to work in the kitchen, but before he does too much, he slips a coffee cup in my direction.
Flicking my gaze down at the cup, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
It’s clearly got creamer of some kind in it.
And I think that’s sweet as hell. Wrapping my fingers around the handle of the mug, I bring it to my lips as I watch him work in the kitchen.
It’s sexy. A man cooking. He cracks and scrambles eggs, then he cuts up fruit, and I watch as he takes a sheet pan of biscuits out of the oven. It smells heavenly, and I don’t even care that it’s probably from one of those can rolls of biscuits. I’m hungry enough that it doesn’t matter.
“Hungry?” he asks.
“Starving,” I confess.
Paul’s lips twitch into a smirk, his gaze flicks down to my breasts, then he shifts them back up to meet mine, and he grunts. “Then I’ll feed you, baby,” he murmurs. “Your clothes should be here soon.”
I don’t ask him any details about clothes.
I’m too hungry to do that. Gripping the handle of my coffee mug, I make my way toward the small table that is on the other side of the kitchen.
It’s a little bistro set, and it’s cute as hell.
Sinking down in the chair, I watch as he brings everything over to me.
This can’t be real. This is just a show, right? Men don’t do these things. I mean, I know my brother does for Millie, but I cannot imagine anyone would want to do them for me. But here is Paul, doing all the things.
Hot. So damn hot. I mean, not hot enough that I forget about Viking… but still hot nonetheless.