I wanted the man.
I wanted him.
I wanted to always remember that all my yesterdays didn’t matter.
When he looked at me, when he touched me… that became my reality, my truth.
“I haven’t had sex in alongtime and even then it was—” I slapped my hand over my mouth.
Cage started to remove his hand from my leg, and I stopped him with my other hand.
“Don’t stop,” I mumbled then removed my hand from my mouth, biting my lips together,hard.
His expression went from confident and sexy to slightly mortified and utterly confused.
“I’m sorry. I just said that so you wouldn’t have high expectations. Not that I don’t know what I’m doing… it’s just that when or if we dothat, it’s going to progress quickly for me—like a fifteen-year-old boy with a supermodel.”
Cage failed to hide his smirk.
“And just to clarify… you’re the supermodel and I’m the fifteen-year-old boy in that scenario.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” His eyes flitted between mine and my hand holding his to my leg.
Trzy had nothing on me. My slutty touch-me-pet-me-love-me skills surpassed hers. Desperate. I had to look pathetically desperate. Surrendering to the reality that my big mouth robbed my vagina of some much-needed attention, I released his hand and flopped onto my side, covering my head with a pillow.
“I can’t think around you. Gah! Someone just shoot me, please.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
I shot up. “No!”
Cage untangled my hair plastered to my face. “No?”
“I’d rather be a blubbering idiot with you here than a well-spoken genius with you gone.”
“That’s sexy.” He threaded his hands through my hair, grasping my head as if preparing to take something that was his. Independent woman, I belonged to no man, blah, blah, blah… I wanted to be his. The desire to find the one guy that made me want to wave my white flag lived in the non-feminist part of my brain. Cage was white-flag worthy.
I grinned. “It’s really not, but it’s me and I want you to likeme.”
He pulled me a breath away from his lips. “I’m here, Lake. I think we’re good in the ‘liking’ you department.” Then he kissed me.
“My teeth,” I mumbled against his lips. “I… need… brush… them…”
“Shut up,” he mumbled back.
Without breaking our kiss, I braced my hands on his biceps while he held my head. Shifting to my knees, my hands slid down and gathered fistfuls of his shirt, tugging it up his torso. I would not speak again. Life was meant to be lived. Ben died, but I lived… Ilived.
Cage broke our kiss and smiled so big my heart nearly exploded into a red sea of sparkling glitter. He reached back and grabbed his shirt, removing it in one swift motion. I had to remind myself to breathe. Mr. NFL-followed-me-to-China guy had a ridiculously fit body.
He must have noticed my slack jaw and chest teetering on the edge of hyperventilating. “We don’t have to do this.”
My eyes flicked to his. “Shut up.” I grinned and lunged at him. He fell back onto the bed with me on top of him.
“Oof…” His mock pain didn’t faze me as I kissed his chest and up his neck. Best breakfast ever.
“Please, please, please, tell me you have a condom,” I murmured over his jaw, working my way to his lips as he grabbed the back of my legs to straddle me over his cock.
“If I say yes, will it mean I’m too presumptuous?”
