Grabbing her ankles, I yank her to me. With my luck, I’ll pounce, and she’ll slide off the bed and hit her head.
“You picked this bedroom rather than yours for a reason.”
This girl is smart. I fall harder.
“Guilty.”
I move up and bracket my arms near her head with my body over hers, but my weight off hers. There’s uncertainty on her face. The fear is gone and replaced with jealousy. The predator in me should chortle with satisfaction that she’s jealous, but a different emotion I won’t acknowledge insists I tell her the truth.
I cradle her face in my palm and skim the pad of my thumb over her cheek. “I haven’t had sex in over six months, Sorrow.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s impossible for a guy like you, and why would you tell me that?”
I pull her on top of me. She gasps. I capture her surprise with my mouth on hers with a peck, then an Eskimo kiss, followed by my eyelashes on the arch of her cheek. She melts into my arms, her body relaxing full on mine, and I am in heaven.
It doesn’t mean I give up on teaching her a lesson. I have to reassure her first that she has no reason to be jealous.
“I told you because I don’t want the idea of me with another girl fucking with our experiment and your head. Also, I told you about my last time having sex so you’d know it’s torture to be around you and not be inside you. You tempt me with your body, how you look at me like I’m the shit, your smarts, and how strong you are here”—I touch her head—“and here”—I touch the spot above her heart. “To me, there’s been no girl before you, and there sure as fuck better not be a guy before or after me.”
What I said is dangerous to my heart and my belief in keeping my emotions locked down, but at this moment, with this beautiful, smart, and innocent girl on top of me, looking at me with tears in her eyes, I couldn’t give two fucks.
“Trace.” Her tears fall, and she buries her face in my neck. “How can you say all those things when you barely know me?”
“Let me, and you’ll see I’m speaking the truth.”
“Can I take a rain check on the lesson? Can you stay the night and hold me? I . . .” She shakes her head, her nose rubbing back and forth on my skin, her tears wet drops of emotion on my neck. “The nightmares are getting worse. I’m not sleeping well. Maybe I’ll sleep better if you’re with me.”
How can I refuse her?
“Done.”
16
Trace
“Are you sure this is the one you want?” We’re at the Christmas tree farm, and Sorrow is taking forever choosing a tree, but this is about her and not me.
Personally, I’d rather be toasty warm in the living room with the fire going in the fireplace and Sorrow straddling my thighs as she covers my face with pecks, butterfly kisses, and Eskimo kisses.
She steps way back from the tree, puts her hand up to shield her eyes, and looks the tree up and down.
“Feel free to walk around it, princess.” I bend at the waist and sweep out my arm. “We can’t treat this tree differently from the others.”
She stomps her feet and glares. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m cold as fuck.”
“Are you saying I’m dawdling? I’ve never picked out a tree before.” She pouts and is so sexy. I want to grasp her fuller bottom lip in my mouth and suck on its sweetness.
“It was just there when I woke up.” She waves her hand with a crestfallen expression on her face.
I feel the same, disappointed that my parents didn’t take me with them to find a tree. It was like they were in a rush to make the holidays memorable for me, rather than slowing down and enjoying the trees, the Christmas lights, and the presents by having me do it with them. Instead, I woke up alone on Christmas Day and opened the gifts by myself. When I turned sixteen, they forwent the gifts for a big fat deposit in my bank account instead.
“Same,” I admit. It’s something Sorrow and I have in common, and I like that a lot.
“That’s why we have to take our time, Trace. I want this moment to be perfect for us.”
“Fine.” I give in to her, and it’s easy to do. I find a lot of things are easier when I’m with Sorrow. She’s not eye-fucking me to death or trying to get into my pants. She just . . . Fuck me, how do I put into words what has my heart racing when I think about spending time with her? Sorrow just is. There’s no ulterior motive with her. No expectation that at the end of the day, I’ll make her come until her fucking toes curl. She is here with me to be with me.
