I think I was the closest she’d ever gotten to a regular relationship. She had lived with me for two months; those months have been telling, and I know they were wearing on her. Making her antsy. Cagey. Anxious to move on before she can’t help but start having feelings for me.
Or maybe she already did have feelings but was trying to stifle them and ignore them.
Feelings. It was weird that I was the one angling to talk about shit, because I normally hated talking about shit. I liked to play music, perform, hang out with my band, and party. And have sex.
With Lexie.
Until I met her, my list of likes would have stopped at “and have sex.”
But now, I just can’t fathom wanting sex with anyone else. It wouldn’t be…enough. No one could scream the way she does. No one could clench her pussy around my cock the way she does—with vise-grip power, squeezing me so hard even if I wanted to hold out, I couldn’t. When she came, when she started squeezing those tight-as-fuck pussy muscles around me, I just fucking lost it. Gone.
That’s just sex, that’s not to mention the way she looks at me—her sense of humor, her sense of style. Her boldness, her vicious tongue. Her fierce independence. The way, every once in a while, I’d get a glimpse of something soft and sweet and tender inside her.
My thoughts were disrupted as she flipped to one side and rested against my chest, snorting delicately. She pillowed her cheek on her hands, sucked in a deep breath, and let it out with an adorable, piggish little snurk. She would deny snoring, but she does. I’ll never tell her, though.
I had to piss like crazy, but no way I was about to dislodge her—not when she’s finally snuggling.
Shit, man. Me, snuggling, and happy about it? I barely recognize myself, sometimes.
The intercom crackled as Captain Murphy came on: “We’ve been cleared to approach for landing, so please buckle up, Mr. North, Ms. Goode. We’ll be touching down in Seattle shortly. Thanks.”
“Lex,” I murmured. “Gotta wake up. Landing soon.”
“Mmm.”
I jostled her gently. “Lexie. Babe.”
“Mmm-mmm.”
“Lex, we’re landing soon. You have to buckle up.”
She shook her head, rubbed my chest. “Sleeping. You shushy.”
I laughed. “Come on, silly girl. Don’t make me tickle you.”
She tightened. “Don’t. Tickle me and I’ll punch you in the nads. I hate being tickled.”
“You gotta buckle up, hon. We’re landing.”
She struggled to a sitting position, rubbed her eyes. Scraped her hands through her hair, messing it up and somehow making it even sexier. Stretched, arching catlike, spine bowing inward, pressing her breasts out and up. Teasing. God, the woman’s tits were the most fantastic pair I’d ever seen in my life, and I absolutely never got tired of them, or used to them. Never would, either.
She caught me staring, and smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”
“What?”
“You literally see, touch, and taste my boobs multiple times a day, every day. Yet you’re still staring at me like you’re dying to get me out of my top.”
“Hey, what can I say? I’m a tits man, and you have the best tits in the world.”
“In the world?” she said, sounding skeptical.
“In the history of the world.”
She shook her head, snorting derisively, but I caught a hint of a pleased and flattered smile as she turned away to buckle up. “You’re just biased.”
“I am not. I’m a boobs expert, and it is my expert opinion that your boobs are the best ever.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m plenty confident in my body, and that I’m not jealous. So just be real, okay? You’re honestly saying, of all the women you’ve seen and slept with, my body is your favorite? You’re not just saying that because you’re currently sleeping with me?”
I debated calling out that phrase––currently sleeping with—but didn’t. “I do mean that.”
“And you’ve mentally compared.”
“Yes.”
“Who else is in the running?”
“Well, everyone else is a distant second and third or whatever.”
“No bullshit, no flattery.”
“You really want details?”
“I really do.”
“Okay, well, I played at a festival with a bunch of other up-and-coming country music stars. And one of them was this new girl named Britt Aubrey. Gorgeous girl, and super talented. She’s probably second, in terms of best body and just overall most beautiful.”
She blinked at me. “I know her. She’s amazing, good with a guitar and a crazy powerful voice. And sexy as hell, to boot. You’re saying I’m more beautiful––better body, face, hair, everything––than Britt Aubrey?”
“I’m saying of all the women I’ve known and been with, Britt Aubrey is the only one who can even try to hold a candle to you,” I said as I looked out the window and saw the blue Pacific and the Seattle area below. We would be landing very soon.
She waited until we’d touched down with a squeal and bark of the tires, and then the rushing roar as we slowed to a taxiing roll. “Are you curious where you stand on my roster?”
I shot her an arrogant grin. “Since you’re asking, I’m gonna guess somewhere near the top. I mean, I am Myles North.”
“Myles North and full of yourself.” She unbuckled as we taxied. “But yeah, top of the list would be understating things.”
“So, answer the same question. Who’s on the list?”
“Well, nobody famous for me, except you, obviously. When I was at U-Conn I went with some friends to a frat house kegger at Penn State, and banged the Penn State football team’s star running back. Until you, I’d have put him as the best by far. Tall, jacked, sweet, and hung like a damn horse.”
“And I can compete with tall, jacked,
