“You’re not touching my boobs either,” I growl, “because,dude,they hurt.”
“I’m not going to touch your boobs. I?—”
“Is it because you don’t like them anymore?” I pout because Icanand it makes me feel better watching his nostrils flare as he tries not to lose his shit.
Stepping forward, Royce cups my face in his hands, kissing the hell out of me, diving his tongue between my lips and into my mouth, plundering every nook and cranny. When he pulls back, his eyes are wild and his glasses are askew.
“You didn’t have these on earlier,” I say, gently righting them on his face.
“Sometimes I like to pretend I can wear contacts.”
“You look good either way.”
The tips of his ears heat; it’s fucking adorable and I hate how much I like him.
That’s what hurt the most.
I let myself like the unassuming computer geek that has trouble beingseen.
“Take your shirt off and lie face down so I can massage your back, Kins.”
The command sends a shiver racing down my spine.
“I like when you’re bossy.”
“Really? Because you literally never do what I ask,” he says, rolling his eyes when I hold my arms up so he can pull my shirt over my head.
He drops it to the floor and then kneels in front of me, his lips pressing the softest kiss to each breast before looking up at me. “They’re perfect.”
My eyes water and I have to blink back the tears becausestupid fucking hormones.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I whisper, and he smiles as he nods toward the bed.
“Lie down, Kins.”
This time, I don’t fight him, rolling onto my belly and letting out a sigh, snuggling against the soft fabric. I feel him climb ontothe bed, and I don’t have to wait long till his hands are on me, his fingers working into the knots in my muscles.
He’s not shy as he touches me. He listens, using more or less pressure until I’ve practically melted into the sheets.
“Doin’ okay?”
“Mm-hmm,” I manage when all I want is for him to wrap me in his arms and hold me. I hate that I’m like this—hate thathebrings this out in me.
“Stop it,” he murmurs.
“What?”
“Whatever is making you furrow your eyebrows, stop it.”
I chuckle, opening my eyes and looking over my shoulder at him. “Will you stay?”
“You’re upset because you want me to stay?” he asks, apparently not surprised.
“Yeah.”
“You know, men get a bad rap for not being able to figure out what women want but?—”
“I’d tread lightly, Roy.”
