“How sore?”
“Just a little.”
“Let me see.”
She squirms when I begin to drop to my knees. I’m a lot to handle, and it was clear the second I pushed inside of her last night that she was going to have a hard time with my size. Dammit, I should’ve checked in on her or kept my greedy hands to myself in the middle of the night.
“Don’t!” She swats at my fingers as I try to lift one leg to get a better look. “I’m fine.”
“Let me—”
“Wren!” she screeches. “Stop!”
My hands fall away immediately, and I stand to face her. “Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.” My jaw clenches. I don’t know much about women, but I know this is the equivalent to a death threat. “Just a little sore. You’re taking all of the charm out of our night together. I don’t need you getting a bird’s-eye view of my pussy. It’s not sexy.”
“You saying pussy is sexy,” I tease, the smile returning to her lips exactly the way I hoped for. “I’ll run you a bath.”
“Will you join me?” she asks, clamping her fingers around my hand when I reach for her.
“No.”
“No?”
“Can’t.”
“Have work to do?”
“You’re sore,” I tell her as I release her hand to lean over to put the stopper in the tub. “If I get in with you, it’ll only get worse.”
“Are you this sweet with all the girls?”
I stiffen before standing up to face her. My hands find her cheeks, and I don’t speak until I’m certain I have every ounce of her undivided attention.
“There’s no one else. There isn’t going to be anyone else.” I do my best to keep my eyes off her lips when a little gasp escapes. “We haven’t talked much about what happens when we’re not together, but you’re mine. Tell me you understand.”
“I do.”
“No online flirting. No coffee dates. No orgasms incited by any thoughts other than of me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“The same goes for you?”
A slow grin tugs up the corners of my mouth. “Same goes for me.”
Her brilliant smile has to be the same composition of the sun because it energizes me, giving me all the warmth I think I’ll ever need.
“Get in the tub, Whitney, before my cock finds its way into your throat.”
I hold her hand as she steps over the edge.
“Do you have any bubble bath?”
My eyes dart away for two reasons. One, because she’s gently running her hand over the top of the water and I’d give nearly anything to be the waves licking at her skin. Two, because I do have bubble bath, but revealing that is just going to ruin the sensual mood.
Maybe a little break from the sexual tension will be exactly what I need. I turn away from her and open the cabinet under the sink.
“If you laugh, I’ll spank your ass.”
Looking over my shoulder, I watch her roll her pretty lips between her teeth in preparation.
But the chuckle escapes anyway.
“Mr. Bubble?”
Her valiant attempt not to laugh forces a chuckle from my own throat.
“It’s the best,” I explain as I walk toward her and unscrew the lid.
The laughter dies away when I inch nearer. The soap mixes with the water spewing from the drain, but her eyes are locked on my erect cock. How can I be so comfortable around her that I haven’t noticed my own nakedness?
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn when her fingers twitch just below the surface of the water. “Soak the soreness away, and I’ll make breakfast.”
I seriously need to jump in the shower, but the devilish look she keeps giving me makes it clear that I wouldn’t be able to do that with any level of success while she’s in the same room. I plant a chaste kiss to her lips, ignore the way she reaches for me, and make a hasty exit.
A pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt is all I put on before heading into the kitchen.
I try to fill my wandering thoughts with anything but Whitney Nelson. I want her like desert plants want water, but pain isn’t her kink. No matter what she thinks her body is telling her, she wouldn’t enjoy another round with me right now, and I have to respect that.
I blame her arms around me for getting aroused when she joins me in the kitchen because getting turned on by the scent of the bubble bath would just make me a creep.
“I hope you like yogurt and fruit,” I tell her as I grab her arms and pull her around.
She’s wearing yet another tiny tank top and little shorts.
“What the hell did Ignacio pack for you?”
Her cheeks pink, and it makes me want to go to the guest bedroom and rifle through her things. But I’m afraid doing so would make me want to murder my friend.
“Only comfortable things.” Her eyes dart away.
“Really?”
“And lingerie.” Her perfect teeth dig into her bottom lip, and my blood can’t decide if it wants to heat in anger for my friend’s invasion or if it’s arousal kicking up my temperature.
“Is that so?” I hold her tighter even though there’s no viable threat in my apartment right now.
She buries her head in my chest. “I’m joking.”
“That’s disappointing. I was going to have you model it for me after breakfast.”
Her laughter is better than angels singing.
The day takes on a lazy tone, but the sexual tension never quite leaves us. We don’t have sex, but the promise of the possibility keeps us both on edge. The looks, the gentle brushes of our hands, and the way our eyes follow each other makes for a very interesting day.
Mid-afternoon, we both finally cave. I’m adamant about not fucking her, but she seems fine to strip both of us naked and get off by swiping her slick cunt up and down my length, teasing her clit until she falls apart. After she finds her release, she puts me
