“Okay,” I say, and stare at his tight back as he leaves the room without a word, without looking at me. I watch him go into the bathroom, and can’t help but think he’s more upset than he should be. If he’s never locked his door before, surely to God, one of the guys in the house must have walked in on him and one of his hookups in the past. Privacy doesn’t seem to be a big deal around here, yet when it comes to me, he’s very secretive. Old insecurities come back to haunt me, and I try really, really hard to push them down. Tonight was perfect, and I can’t get into my head, can’t start overthinking things, and let the past ruin what beautiful things I just experienced here.
The shower turns on and my heart sinks into my stomach. So this is what post-sex looks like with Christian Moore. We have mind-blowing orgasms, and he walks away afterward, discarding me without a word and leaving me in his bed, a hot mess, while he showers. I lay there and stare at the white ceiling, trying not to cry, and the next thing I know he’s standing over me, his mood a bit more mellow.
“I thought you were sleeping, you were so still.”
“You wrapped me pretty tight, Christian. I can’t move.”
He laughs lightly. “I just wanted to make sure you were covered in case one of those assholes came in here again.” He tugs the blankets and frees me. “Come here,” he says, and tugs me until I’m sitting. “How’s your ankle?”
For a second, I have no idea what he’s talking about, then my brain starts working again. “It’s good.”
“Okay,” he says and scoops me up.
I yelp as he carries me into the bathroom and sets me on the edge of the tub. My stupid heart takes that moment to thump. He was in here running a bath for me, when I thought he was just discarding me. I reach down and touch warm, inviting water.
He crouches down beside me, and brushes my hair over my shoulder, and the fact that I’m naked and he’s only in his jeans really sinks in. More importantly, I’m okay with it. It feels so natural to be with him like this.
“Need me to help you in?” he asks.
I take in his deep blue eyes, the softness in them as his gaze moves over my face. “Yes, please.”
He carefully picks me up and sets me in the tub, but then I make a big splash, soaking his chest, his jeans, the floor.
“Oops,” I say innocently.
He grins. “You’re telling me you didn’t do that on purpose?”
I bat my lashes at him. “I never said that.”
He angles his head, a grin toying with the corners of his mouth. “You’re saying you did do it on purpose.”
“I never said that either.”
“Then what—”
“If you’d stop talking for a second, I could tell you that I soaked you because this tub is big enough for two and I’d really like it if you got out of those wet pants and joined me.”
He inches back a bit, his eyes wide. “Really?” he asks, like the thought of us bathing together is ludicrous. What, has he never gotten into the tub with a girl before? Maybe he hasn’t. I sure as hell haven’t bathed with a guy before and I kind of like the idea that I could be his first—for something.
He pushes to his feet, reaches for the button on his jeans and tugs. “Wait. If I get naked, you’re not going to try to put your mouth on my cock again, are you?”
I chuckle at his playfulness. “No.”
He snaps his fingers. “It was worth a try,” he grumps, his mood light now, and it pulls an airy laugh from my throat. I lean forward to make room for him, and he climbs in behind me, his legs stretching out beside mine. We both go quiet for a long time, lost in our thoughts, and I lightly run my fingers along the top of the water.
“Christian,” I finally say, breaking the comfortable quiet.
“Yeah.”
“I really like…fucking you.”
He pulls me back, until my head is against his hard chest, and he lifts his hands from the water and lets the droplets fall over my nipples. “I really like fucking you too.”
“We’re going to do more of that, right?” I roll my eyes. Way not to sound eager, Maize.
“Yeah, sweetness. We’re going to do that again. A lot. You said yourself you should have been doing it since first year. We have a lot of fucking to make up for.”
I settle against him, never having felt so comfortable with any guy, in any situation, sexual or otherwise. “Okay,” I say quietly. He runs his hands over my arms and upper thighs, and I let my lids close. “How long do you think the party will go on tonight?”
“Too long,” he says, and I angle my head at the tightness in his voice. “I should have moved out a long time ago.”
“My place isn’t noisy, it’s just run down.” I frown, realizing it won’t be totally run down for long. Kaitlyn said the roofers had already started, which of course makes it noisy, and soon enough my ankle will be healed, and I’ll be able to move back. Jeez, I wish that didn’t give me a stupid lump in my throat. This situation is temporary, and I’d be wise to remember that.
He gives an easy laugh. “Maybe we should both move into a place together.”
I laugh at that too, because he’s kidding. At least I think he’s kidding. Yeah, he’s kidding. “Soon enough I’ll be healed and out of your hair, Christian.” I wait for a second, and what he says next is like a slap to the face.
“Yeah…”
What, did I think he was going to try to convince me he was serious and that we should really shack up in a place, where I’m not a prisoner
