“I heard you get presents when you’re married. Who doesn’t like presents?” he says with a cute shrug.
“You want to stay married for the presents?” I shake my head. “It’s shocking to me how mental you are.”
“Just makes me more fun.”
“I don’t want fun—”
“You want an arsehole,” he says.
“I think I still prefer the asshole.”
“Okay, what my wifey wants, my wifey gets.”
Why do I feel like he doesn’t mean that in a good way?
The light in the bathroom turns off and I brace myself for what’s to come.
Another night of sharing a bed with Pike.
After our walk, we came back to the apartment and I played a stupid block game on my phone while he read a book about Thomas Jefferson.
I dozed off just looking at the cover, but he was entranced by it. I glanced over occasionally and watched his eyes fly across the paper. He was completely interested. I mean, to each their own, right?
But once he started to yawn, I knew he was going to call it a night, and that’s exactly what he did. He always lets me get ready for bed first, which I think he does on purpose.
Because I’m all tucked into bed, ready to close my eyes, but in the pit of my stomach, I’m waiting in anticipation for him to slide in and very softly say good night. Not to mention he walks out of the bathroom, shirtless, in nothing but his boxer briefs, and he carries himself with swagger as he walks toward the bed. That sleeve tattoo, the five o’clock shadow that covers his distinct jawline, and the V in his waist that trails under the elastic of his boxer briefs. It’s tempting, very freaking tempting.
What would one night feel like with him?
Bliss.
I already know it.
All I want to see is if he’s pierced or not.
The door to the bathroom opens and I tell myself to look away, to not be sucked in to the late-night show he offers, but my eyes disobey me, and once again, I take in the sight of him as he approaches.
Not only do I take him in, but my eyes are drawn to his crotch as they attempt to see through the fabric of his briefs.
“You can just ask, you know,” he says as he slips under the covers.
“Ask what?” I move my gaze to the ceiling, feeling my cheeks heat up.
He turns toward me, his large body resting on his side—something he hasn’t done yet; he always sleeps on his back or turns away—and he reaches out and runs a finger down my arm.
A wave of chills erupts across my skin.
Oh my God.
All he did was touch me and my body is ready to go.
“You can ask to see it.”
“See . . . uh . . . what?” I ask, even though I damn well know what he’s talking about.
In a deep, sultry voice that affects me in the best way possible, he says, “My cock.”
I think I just had a flutter of an orgasm.
My cock.
God, do I want to see it.
I desperately want to know what it looks like, what it feels like in my palm, how it fits in my mouth . . . between my legs.
But I can’t.
I need to divert him. Put a damper on this exchange. Throw down the wet blanket, because—Oooeeee—I’m getting all fired up inside.
“Shaved legs,” I shout.
“Huh?” he asks.
I grab his hand, bend my leg up to my chest, and force him to feel my unshaven shin.
“I don’t feel the need to shave my legs around you.”
His hand caresses my shin, and oh God, this was a bad idea, because that feels good, even under the shield of my hairy legs.
“Erm . . . okay,” he says, utterly confused.
“Stocking up on leg warmth for winter, you know. The hairier the leg, the better.”
“Good to know.”
“So, yeah, probably don’t want to have sex with Miss Sweater Weather Legs, right?”
I attempt to lower my leg, but he keeps it in place and slowly drags his palm up my shin, over my knee, and to my upper thigh . . . hello.
Giggling, because I’m an absolute moron and unable to keep it together, I swat him away and try to scoot closer to the wall.
“I couldn’t care less if you shave your legs or not, Coraline.”
Of course he wouldn’t care. OF COURSE!
“And I would fuck you, hair or not. Doesn’t matter to me.” His hand drags back down my leg, but turns inward, caressing my inner thigh, and it takes everything in me not to let my legs fall open to grant him better access. “So . . . do you want to see my cock, Coraline?”
Sweet Jesus, YES!
Give it to me.