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Too Many Things
We liein a tangle of sheets, sweat slicking our skin. Lungs heaving. Our hair a mess. And it’s then when I allow myself to fully register how loud we were being.
My cheeks heat at the thought, and I roll to fit into the space along his side. Rest my head on the dip between his shoulder and chest.
His hand finds its way to the bend of my waist and lightly grips me there. “Damn,” he says with a sigh.
“Tell me about it,” I whisper.
“And to think I’ve been without this for over a year. All because I went to get coffee.”
I huff a laugh. “Your mistake, sir.”
“I’ll never try to surprise you again. You know, to be on the safe side.”
“I don’t know,” I blurt out and push to sit. “You seem to be full of it.” The blood rushes to my head, causing it to spin for a moment and I roll my neck. I really need to be in better shape if I’m going to keep up with him.
Three more times. Three more times he made me come. That’s a grand total of six today. Which is only two shy of how many times he made me come the last time we were together.
“Shit?”
I let out another laugh and bury my chin into my shoulder as I look at him. “No, surprises. Full of surprises. But your words, not mine.”
A Cheshire grin. “Whatever you say.”
His hand slides over the sensitive space between my shoulder blades and induces a wave of chills over my body, my sex clenching sorely.
“Be right back,” I say, and snatch his button-down shirt from the end of the bed. Tear myself away from his touch so I can put it on. He watches adoringly as I button the middle buttons.
I then scurry to the bathroom, my footsteps lighter than before. It’s nice to be back on cloud nine, if only for a little while. Maybe we never have to leave this bedroom again. We can just stay in our bubble of sex, carefree. Untouchable. The butlers can slide our meals under the door, right?
When I return from doing my business, he’s waiting for me in the exact same spot. I snuggle up to him.
His fingertips brush up and down my upper arm. “I don’t think I ever want to leave this spot,” he says, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he smiles a contented smile.
I like looking at him from this angle. His sharp, stubbled jawline is nothing short of a masterpiece. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“I can’t wait another year for this.”
“For sex?” I dare to ask, then add, “Or for sex with me?”Surely, for sex with me. He hasn’t been abstinent this whole time…has he?
“Both, I guess.” He sighs it out as he rests his eyes. He’s tired, in probably every sense of the word.
But in true Scarlett fashion, I can’t not call him on it. “You’re so full of it,” I tease.
His eyelids remain closed and he says matter-of-factly, “No, I’m not.”
“Jake, it’s okay if you’ve slept with other women since me. I’m not that kind of girl. It’s not like we were together.”
Now look who’s full of shit? Of course, I care. At least, that’s what the hope swelling inside me is saying. I think any woman likes the idea that they ruined a man for all others.
“I know,” he says, squeezing my arm. Then goes back to gently rubbing it. “But I haven’t.”
I should leave it alone. “Why?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t know. I guess I just haven’t found anyone since then I wanted to sleep with.”
My stomach jumps in surprise. I think he’s serious. “Did I ruin Jake Mitchell for other women?”
