before.”
“Was it seriously only an hour?” It felt like days had passed, or at the very least like the clock should read 4 A.M. , like we’d ridden out the darkest part of the night together, drowned it in a river of kisses. But no, it was barely 11 according to the alarm clock next to David’s bed.
“Heck.” He slapped his head. “I didn’t think. How late does TriMet run?”
“Eh?” I opened an eye to assess him. He didn’t seem to be joking—his voice still sounded fucked out, his face still all soft and pink.
“Don’t want you stranded.” Leaning down, he ran a hand through my hair, affectionate smile at odds with the glass shards nicking my heart.
“Oh, uh. It’s till midnight or one A.M. on Saturdays. And not like my roommates will be waiting up.” I tried to joke, but the moment was lost.
“Good.” He grabbed his pants and slipped them back on, leaving his belt and shirt on the floor.
Well. This was . . . unexpected. I mean, I’d had plenty of hookups not turn into sleepovers, and this wasn’t even the most obvious you-can-leave-anytime hint I’d ever gotten, but it still stung how ready he seemed to be for me to leave.
“Um . . . I really do make good pancakes. We could skip the brunch place . . .”
“Wait.” He turned back toward the bed. His forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “You want to stay?”
“Um. No.” Not when he so obviously wanted me gone. Gee, this was a one-way ticket to awkwardville. “Guess I’d better get dressed.” I hauled my creaky muscles out of the bed and stumbled to my clothes, which, unlike his, were neatly folded on a side chair.
“Hey.” Sitting next to me on the bed, he took my hand. “Sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No, it’s no big deal.” I tried to push off the bed, but his arm stayed me.
“I like pancakes.” He kissed me softly on the lips. “A lot. I just wasn’t thinking.... Sleepovers are kind of new to me.”
“Seriously?” I mean, the guy had been with someone for twelve years. If I’d been with someone that long there would be a shared bed with a premium mattress and chichi monogrammed sheets.
“Yeah.” He looked away, his eyes cloudy and distant. “Wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence in my past relationship.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ancient history.” He waved my sympathy away, seeming to make a deliberate effort to brighten his expression. “And no, you’re not getting dressed.” He shook his head as his eyes raked over me with enough heat to make me forget about our sudden landing in awkwardland. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
He kissed his way down my chest, pushing right past all the discomfort of the last few minutes. Yeah, I was staying. And, yeah, I was going to show him all the good parts of sleeping over he’d been missing out on.
Chapter 6
D avid woke up first, foiling my plan to rouse him with a blow job. Whereas I had to drag myself up every morning at oh-dark-thirty and relished my sleeping-in days the way a sailor treasures leave, David was downright chipper at six-thirty.
“It’s okay. You sleep longer.” He kissed my shoulder. “I usually go for a run, then come back and shower.”
“How about you get your workout here? Then we shower together?” I held the covers open for him to crawl back in. Round two last night had left me boneless, my usual nerves too blissed out to overthink things like usual.
“What did you have in mind?” He slid back in beside me, fuzzy legs rubbing against mine, sending heat straight up to my groin. He rested a hand on my chest.
Last night, we’d ended up rubbing off together a second time. And that was lovely, long and slow and oh so sweet, with lots of kissing until he’d finally wrapped a hand around us both and stroked us over the edge. But right now, sleepiness and leftover good juju from last night had me a bit bolder.
“You feel like fucking?”
“Didn’t we . . . ah, you mean . . .” His face turned dusky
“Was it seriously only an hour?” It felt like days had passed, or at the very least like the clock should read 4 A.M. , like we’d ridden out the darkest part of the night together, drowned it in a river of kisses. But no, it was barely 11 according to the alarm clock next to David’s bed.
“Heck.” He slapped his head. “I didn’t think. How late does TriMet run?”
“Eh?” I opened an eye to assess him. He didn’t seem to be joking—his voice still sounded fucked out, his face still all soft and pink.
“Don’t want you stranded.” Leaning down, he ran a hand through my hair, affectionate smile at odds with the glass shards nicking my heart.
“Oh, uh. It’s till midnight or one A.M. on Saturdays. And not like my roommates will be waiting up.” I tried to joke, but the moment was lost.
“Good.” He grabbed his pants and slipped them back on, leaving his belt and shirt on the floor.
Well. This was . . . unexpected. I mean, I’d had plenty of hookups not turn into sleepovers, and this wasn’t even the most obvious you-can-leave-anytime hint I’d ever gotten, but it still stung how ready he seemed to be for me to leave.
“Um . . . I really do make good pancakes. We could skip the brunch place . . .”
“Wait.” He turned back toward the bed. His forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “You want to stay?”
“Um. No.” Not when he so obviously wanted me gone. Gee, this was a one-way ticket to awkwardville. “Guess I’d better get dressed.” I hauled my creaky muscles out of the bed and stumbled to my clothes, which, unlike his, were neatly folded on a side chair.
“Hey.” Sitting next to me on the bed, he took my hand. “Sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No, it’s no big deal.” I tried to push off the bed, but his arm stayed me.
“I like pancakes.” He kissed me softly on the lips. “A lot. I just wasn’t thinking.... Sleepovers are kind of new to me.”
“Seriously?” I mean, the guy had been with someone for twelve years. If I’d been with someone that long there would be a shared bed with a premium mattress and chichi monogrammed sheets.
“Yeah.” He looked away, his eyes cloudy and distant. “Wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence in my past relationship.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ancient history.” He waved my sympathy away, seeming to make a deliberate effort to brighten his expression. “And no, you’re not getting dressed.” He shook his head as his eyes raked over me with enough heat to make me forget about our sudden landing in awkwardland. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”
He kissed his way down my chest, pushing right past all the discomfort of the last few minutes. Yeah, I was staying. And, yeah, I was going to show him all the good parts of sleeping over he’d been missing out on.
Chapter 6
D avid woke up first, foiling my plan to rouse him with a blow job. Whereas I had to drag myself up every morning at oh-dark-thirty and relished my sleeping-in days the way a sailor treasures leave, David was downright chipper at six-thirty.
“It’s okay. You sleep longer.” He kissed my shoulder. “I usually go for a run, then come back and shower.”
“How about you get your workout here? Then we shower together?” I held the covers open for him to crawl back in. Round two last night had left me boneless, my usual nerves too blissed out to overthink things like usual.
“What did you have in mind?” He slid back in beside me, fuzzy legs rubbing against mine, sending heat straight up to my groin. He rested a hand on my chest.
Last night, we’d ended up rubbing off together a second time. And that was lovely, long and slow and oh so sweet, with lots of kissing until he’d finally wrapped a hand around us both and stroked us over the edge. But right now, sleepiness and leftover good juju from last night had me a bit bolder.
“You feel like fucking?”
“Didn’t we . . . ah, you mean . . .” His face turned dusky
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