I gnawed on my knuckle. “Jesus fuck, you’re driving me crazy.”
She arched her back, sliding her sparkly red fingernail all the way down to her opening, and dipping it inside.
“Shit,” she gasped.
“Ophelia,” I growled in warning.
“I’m on the pill.”
Ninety-nine percent of my brain was shouting at me to push her knees back to her fucking ears and shove my cock inside her bare.
But that other persistent one percent banged on my skull, reminding me that it was completely stupid and irresponsible to risk it with someone I barely knew. Not only that, but her chances of me blowing my load too soon—which, judging by the way my dick was spasming watching her finger herself—was very likely to happen. She might be on the pill, but that wasn’t foolproof.
“You gotta give me five minutes,” I begged.
She sat up, removing her top and unclasping her bra, tossing it hastily to the floor. My eyes fluttered shut at the sight.
I jumped her, pushing up between her legs, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the mattress on either side of her head. The box spring creaked under the weight of us.
Nose to nose, I mumbled against her lips, “Five minutes, Trouble. You can touch yourself, but don’t you dare come without my tongue or cock somewhere inside you.” I kissed her hard, dragging it on for longer than I intended to, and then shoved myself off the bed and pulled my briefs back up my legs.
“Where are you going?”
I pulled open the door. “To find a way to fuck you so hard you think you hear reindeer on the goddamn roof.”
My first thought was Mateo. I jogged down the hallway toward his bedroom and hesitated outside. He was either awake or he wasn’t, there was no use pussyfooting around. I rapped on the door. “Cap, help me out.”
I paced in a short circle, scratching the back of my neck, willing my erection to calm the fuck down before I offered Mateo more ammo to give me shit for the rest of my life. It was only a minute but it felt like thirty when the door opened and my best friend peeked a squinty eye out.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Condom. Now.”
His squinty eye opened all the way and his grumpy expression lifted. “You getting laid, brother?”
“Listen, I don’t have time for fucking tea and biscuits. There’s a naked bombshell of a woman sprawled out in my bed right now, and I need a rubber before I nut in my fucking pants.”
“I don’t have one, man.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean you don’t have one?” I flung my arms around. “You’re a fucking pornstar.”
“I prefer sex worker,” he corrected me. “But when’s the last time you saw one of those wearing a fucking condom, Pike?”
My fingers flexed at my sides, frustration seeping out of me. I took another short, despairing lap up and down the hall. “This can’t be happening.”
Mateo checked the time on his watch. “Ron’s still open for another half hour.” He shrugged.
I clasped my hands together on top of my head and stared at the dim lights on the ceiling. If I drove out to the gas station it would be at least twenty fucking minutes there and back, but what choice did I really have?
“Nothing in the bathroom?”
“Dude, be my guest.” Mateo pushed the bedroom door open and waved me inside. “Don’t wake my fucking girlfriend up, she’ll kill you.”
I sprinted past a snoozing Tally into the bathroom and pulled open every goddamn drawer underneath the sink, sorting through the contents like there was a delivery boy at the door and I couldn’t find any cash to tip him.
“You’re cleaning all this shit up.” Mateo leaned against the door frame and blocked the light from completely seeping into the bedroom.
There were tampons and cotton swabs falling to the floor. I rearranged a perfectly organized accessory box and flung about a dozen ponytail holders onto the tile. Mateo’s travel bag of mini shampoos and grooming tools got unzipped and dumped out into the sink for me to root through more efficiently.
“I’ll clean your fucking toilets if I find a condom in here.” I pushed one drawer shut and flung open the mirrored cabinet over the sink. Band-Aids, ibuprofen, nasal spray, three different fucking flavors of lube.
“Fuck!” I slammed the cabinet closed.
Mateo shook his head. “I told you. Now you just wasted time.” He checked his watch again. “You can still make it to Ron’s.”
This was not how the night was supposed to go. I fumbled royally forgetting the most basic rule of casual hook-ups. Ophelia was in there wondering where I was, probably getting herself off because I was too busy sifting through my roommate’s bathroom for a Trojan like we were back in the fucking barracks.
“All right, I’m going.” I opened a drawer and swept everything I’d thrown on the counter back into it with my arm.
“Pike!”
“No time, brother. You said it yourself.”
“You’re lucky I want you to get some fucking ass more than I want to kill you right now.” He dodged me as I hurried out of the bathroom and back into the hall.
Still in my underwear, I needed to get dressed, grab my wallet, and promise the girl in my bed that if she gave me ten more minutes I’d be on my knees for the rest of the night if that’s where she wanted me.
My buzz had completely worn off and I was laser focused on the task in front of me. Turn off my south brain, turn on my tactical one.
She wants you, Frankie. She said it herself.
When I pushed open my bedroom door all that went directly out the window.
Ophelia’s naked body was curled up on one side of the bed, cuddling the blanket to her chest. Eyes closed, rose pink lips slightly parted.
“O?” I whispered. I leaned back on the door and let it click shut, slowing my sprint to a sedentary crawl. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically.
She was out cold on my pillow and all that lust and energy from seconds prior warmed to something soft and tame inside me. I wanted to play with that sexy, vixen side of Ophelia, but the way she looked asleep in my space, right at home in my bed, filled that need with something different…better.
All my life it’d been my nature to be a provider, protector, a sure thing. An undeniably safe bet. You needed me, I was going to be there. Situationally, but also in my relationships. The need to feel indispensable might have been an issue I needed to work out; it sure as hell cost me a lot of fucking sleep after Delta and a lot of mind games with Vanessa. Some might even call it a flaw, but I thought it was the only thing keeping me human half the time.
Ophelia—feeling safe with me, trusting me, confiding in me—was tuning that long-forgotten string again.
I walked over and sat on the mattress beside her, lightly pushing a fallen strand of hair away from her face. Her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn’t move beyond that.
You forget that warm, soft buzzing in your chest when you’re watching a woman sleep in your bed. It makes you want to do everything for her. Keep her warm, keep her happy. Keep her…keep her. Period.
But that was the night talking, and the circumstance, and the adrenaline, and every other loose thread we needed to tighten as soon as fucking possible before my brain started tricking me into thinking there were ways this couldn’t end in a disaster.