“Yes, but…”
“But it’s”—he lifts his head from the pillow, cranes his neck to look at my nightstand— “it’s two thirty in the morning. My higher order thinking skills are compromised. Can’t talk.” It’s my turn to lean down, kiss across his brow, his closed eyes, those high, cut cheekbones, and he murmurs his pleasure, tugging me over so I’m forced to straddle him, and just that quickly I’m wet again, still surprised by the way my body reacts to his.
“What about it being two thirty in the morning?” I ask, rubbing against him, his hands tightening on my hips to hold me close.
“Don’t need higher order thinking for this,” he says, already reaching for the strip of condoms we’d stuffed under one of the pillows after the first time.“Wait,” he says, stilling my hips with one of his hands, looking up at me with a furrowed brow.
“What?”
He lifts up, the motion crunching the stacked muscles in his abdomen. His arm bands around me, pulling me close so my head tips forward onto his shoulder. Then he whispers in my ear,“I’m just wondering if you brought those goggles home.”
And it’s like that, laughing again, that he takes me one last time, before we collapse into a perfect, heavy sleep.
Chapter 14
Ben
I sleep like the dead, even on this too-soft mattress, but when I wake up to the sound of Kit’s alarm, my body still feels completely drained. I’m sacked-out, empty-headed, unable to think about anything but Kit lying next to me, the smell of her sleep-warm skin, the way she looks, her lips still swollen from the pressure of my mouth on hers, a pink trace of beard burn on her chest, probably on her thighs too. I wasn’t kidding when I’d said I’d planned to keep her up, but it’s not the fact that we’ve had sex of all kinds for the last twelve hours or so that’s got me feeling this way. It’s that it had taken a herculean effort to wait so long to come to her. From the minute I’d left her on Saturday, this is what I’d wanted, and I’d barely slept all weekend for thinking about her. But I’d been determined to come to her honestly, determined to deal with Jasper first.
I don’t want to think about that now, though. Now all I want is to sleep and eat and fuck her again, not necessarily in that order.
Kit’s swiping at her alarm, letting out a string of curses I’ve never heard her use before. When she finally manages to shut it off, she raises a limp arm in the air, a clenched fist.“You’ll pay for this, Tucker,” she says, then lets her arm drop over her eyes.
“You’re so fucking cute,” I tell her, leaning over to press a hard kiss over her mouth.
“Coffee,” she whispers against my lips.“I don’t care who you have to murder to get it.”
I don’t have to murder anyone; I just use the coffeemaker she has in her kitchen. But the time finally registers and I realize I need to get home. I’d promised Sharon I’d be back by seven to get Dad ready for the day. I clean up the dishes Kit and I left behind last night when I’d hoisted her over my shoulder and carried her back upstairs, and pour her coffee into a mug that saysDon’t Test My Metal. She’s still in bed, arm still over her face, a slant of morning light angling across her neck, right where I want to lick her. I’ve never wanted to leave a place less.
“I’ve got to go, honey,” I say, the endearment slipping out before I can even think of it. What the fuck is this. I’m bringing her coffee in bed and talking to her as if we’ve been married for years, and I fuckinglikeit. This makes her sit up, her eyes squinty, her lips puckered with the strain, apparently, of seeing the morning light. Her hair is amess.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she says.
I set the coffee on her nightstand, lean down and kiss her again, open-mouthed, against her shoulder. I see her nipples peak underneath the sheet she’s holding to her chest, and—oh, come on. Five more minutes? I could get the job done in five minutes…
“So Sharon stayed with your dad last night?” she asks, a total boner destroyer, but I suppose I should be grateful. I pick up my t-shirt from the floor, pull it on, set about finding my boots.
“Yeah, but she’s got somewhere to be this morning, so I need to get back. And Dad’s got more PT today, plus it’s River’s day at the yard. Busy.”
“Hmm,” she says, into her coffee. She’s not looking at me. She’s looking into that mug as if it’s got the answers to the universe in it. It hasn’t crossed my mind to reassure her—that’s at least part because most of my relationships with women have been narrowed by the boundaries I establish out of what I’ve told myself is necessity. I work a lot, much of it involving travel, and I don’t have the time or will to make commitments. I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept next to someone all night, and other than these last few weeks with Dad, I can’t remember when I’ve last had to provide an accounting of my day to anyone who I didn’t share an Outlook calendar with. But it’s also part because already with Kit I feel I’mwithher. I feel I’ll see her tonight, every night I can, no questions asked.
That’s sloppy thinking, though, and I know it—I live in Texas, Kit lives here, and I have no idea what she wants from me, or what we’ll be to each other. There’s fallout I have to deal with from being with Kit even this once, and snatches of my conversation with Jasper are already coming back to me—first, his anger, then his attempt to find a workaround, finally, my promises to make this up to him, to make sure our plans come off anyway.
I finish tying up my boot, set a knee down onto the bed so I can lean close to Kit, wait for her to look at me. When she does, her dark eyes are wary, cautious, so different from last night.“Kit,” I say, against her mouth. The coffee steams up between us, nutty and strong.
“I like how that is,” she says back, her voice soft.“You saying my name.”
I kiss her again, letting my tongue move across the seam of her lips before breathing out her name again.“Can I come back tonight?”
Her lashes lift, and that warm glow is back in her eyes.“Anytime,” she says.
* * * *
I walk into Dad’s kitchen at 6:58, thank God, or else Sharon would’ve had my ass. Dad’s at the table, squeezing the strengthening ball he has as part of the at-home PT for his arm and reading out loud to Sharon, who’s filling in a crossword.
“Uh, hello,” I say, because—I don’t know what this is that I’ve walked into. It looks as if they have breakfast together every morning.
“Good, you’re here,” Sharon says, standing.“I’ve got my pap smear this morning.”
