You, Again(76)

This is the weird thing that happens after sex: Once you’ve unraveled all the tension, you’re just two naked people sitting there like nervous idiots.

Josh rolls onto his side and his right arm snakes its way around her hip.

“This is dangerously close to spooning,” Ari says.

“And yet, you haven’t disintegrated.” His skin smells like the sandalwood/camphor/Russian leather fragrance of his stupid organic body wash. Maybe part of her wants to smell like those nonsense words, too.

Shit shit shit.

“I—I have things to do tomorrow. I mean, this morning.” Seems best not to mention the meeting is with his mother. “I need to get up soon.”

“Hmm.” His thumb grazes the soft, ticklish area where her thigh meets her hip, making her squirm. “Didn’t you say orgasms jolt you awake?”

“At this point, my vibrator is my main reason for waking up, period, so…”

His breath tickles the nervy skin on the back of her neck.

“Show me.”





20


“I DIDN’T BRING MY EQUIPMENT,” she replies, unsure if she’s trying to escalate or defuse. But frankly, this is far more appealing than snuggling.

“You have hands.” Josh shifts himself up toward the headboard, moving his left arm under her neck.

“But that’s a lot more effort.” It’s been forever since she touched herself without the aid of buzzing purple silicone.

She’s keenly aware of the way his erection presses insistently into her ass and she finds herself arching her back, pushing against it. Her legs part just enough to slot her right hand between them.

“I have hands, too,” he says. There’s a second or two of conspicuous silence before he shoves the duvet down the bed. “Roll over onto your stomach.”

He pushes down on her right shoulder so that she’s lying on her belly and there’s a thrilling little sensation streaking up her spine. Maybe Gabe was right about her having a thing for bossy people who think they know everything.

She lets an approving mmm slip out when he moves his hand between her legs, brushing it over hers. One—no, two of his fingers slide all too easily inside her and she sucks in a breath. Thank God they’re not staring at each other this time.

His fingers press down and—shit, shitshitSHIT. It’s the difference between let’s see where this pleasurable feeling leads, shall we? and there is definitely, one hundred percent an orgasm in my near future.

“Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?” His mouth is right next to her ear.

She lets out some incomprehensible moaning sound in response and loops her left arm around the pillow, needing to hold on to something.

Part of her brain screams at her to say anything necessary to get more, more, more right now. That part is expanding like a helium balloon. The sensible part that knows all these statements could be used against her in the inevitable argument they’ll have later today when they’ve both come to their senses? That part is shrinking down to the size of a pea.

“I think about lots of things.” She bounces the question back to him. “Why? Do you think about me?”

“No. Never. Not even once.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” she says.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

He slowly pulses against this certain spot in a maddeningly steady, controlled rhythm. Ari hates being edged. Hates it. So, so, so…much. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Hmm?” he replies, obviously reveling in making her ask for it.

“I do this to other women.” She squirms to reposition herself, seeking a little more friction. He holds her firmly in place with his other hand. “It doesn’t work on me.”

That makes him laugh. Enraging. “Answer the question.”

Ari huffs but she’d rather be satisfied than indignant. “Statistically, I’ve probably, uh…”

He lays a series of kisses down her back, his nose dragging along her lower back, inching lower…and lower until he lifts his head.

“Yes?”

Admitting it feels like the final nail in the coffin they’ve been assembling for the last twelve hours.

“I have a very dirty mind, okay? But I don’t— Ahhh. Oh God.”

“That’s it.” He rubs firmly against the same spot. “Do you want to come like this?”

“P-pretty much always. How are you doing that?” And why hasn’t she been doing it to herself for the last ten years?

He eases his fingers out and she makes a disappointed little moan.

“Want me to keep going?”

“If you stop, I’ll cut you.”

That earns another chuckle. His weight on the bed shifts and she hears a rustling on the nightstand.

After eight seconds of packet-opening struggle, he pulls her hips up a bit, kneeling behind her. Her pulse is racing and she hasn’t felt this combination of tension and excitement flood her brain without chemical assistance in years.

He places one hand on her left hip and the other between her shoulder and neck. Ari can’t help but look back at him, like she needs to double-check an answer she knows is right.

“Okay?” he asks softly. He lets go of her hip to guide himself inside her. “Tell me if it’s too much.”