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He held me in his arms until we were both capable of functioning again before guiding me to the bathroom for a shower. I got three hours of sleep before he woke me, once again with his head between my legs. I had no idea sex could be like this. I didn’t have a clue that my pleasure would ever be something that gave a man his own pleasure. He wants me to orgasm. He demanded it of my body, which was so willing to obey him.
When we were exhausted and ready to sleep, he pulled me to him, skin to skin, and held me in his arms all night.
When we woke again with the sun peeping through the curtains, he demanded more from me, and of course I willingly gave all he needed.
I should be walking on clouds, and in my mind I was until we joined the three other guys in the lobby. He stayed close, was quick to wrap his arm around my back, but he also volunteered to drive, which put the console of the SUV between us. He could’ve easily allowed one of the other guys to drive and I could be in his arms, snuggled against his chest. I feel like I’ve lost something, and I don’t know exactly how to deal with it.
Maybe he regrets what happened, or he feels shame. He didn’t hesitate to help me into the passenger seat, but he’s studiously watching the road. I haven’t caught him glancing my way once since the drive started.
Maybe it’s my immaturity. Maybe I’m pulling my expectations from the wrong group of people, but the boys in high school were all over their girlfriends between classes and during gym. They’d risk getting into trouble just to kiss their lips or grab a handful of their asses.
He claimed me, but only in private. Other than the arm around me, he has made no declarations to the other guys.
I clench my jaw, hating that my head is even taking me in this direction. He’s not a boy. He’s a grown man, and he doesn’t have to growl and snap at other people to assert his ownership. But that doesn’t stop that neglected part inside of me that needs that in some form from him. I’ve been in the shadows, a second thought for far too long. The abandoned little girl who is still cowering in the corner, needing to be noticed, expected more from him.
As we cover the miles back to Farmington, my mood sours. By the time we pull into the parking lot at Cerberus, I’m livid, eight hours of scenarios deep in my head.
I climb out of the SUV before Emmett can make his way around to open the door from me. Oracle offers me my overnight bag, and I give him a halfhearted thanks before walking away.
A low growl rumbles from my throat when a hand clasps mine, but I don’t argue. Losing my shit in front of an audience really isn’t my style.
Emmett guides me into the clubhouse, the other members growing silent when we enter. I feel like I’m on display, but the joy I thought I’d feel with his ownership is absent as everyone watches us.
We have to walk in front of the television to get to the hallway that leads to the newer section of the clubhouse, but no one complains. I doubt they’re paying much attention to the horse race that’s playing on it anyway.
“Atta boy,” Stormy says at our back just as he heads down the hallway toward Emmett’s room.
I don’t have very long to look around his room before he’s standing right in front of me, his hand on my cheek.
He leans forward, his lips brushing mine. I wish I could say that I pulled away, but I’m not strong enough to resist him, and I’m easily lost in the kiss.
An alarm sounds in my head, a warning that getting lost in him and ignoring red flags will only lead to me getting hurt.
I pull back, swallowing roughly at the site of his slick, kissable lips.
“You ignore me for eight hours and now you want to kiss me?”
I take a step back from him, but his arm around my waist tightens, preventing me from going far.
“I’ve wanted my lips on yours every second since I woke up,” he says.
I shake my head, feeling like he’s trying to manipulate me.
“Hey.” He presses closer.
“It’s nothing.” I try to wave him off, the threat of tears burning the backs of my eyes, but he doesn’t allow the reprieve.
“It’s not nothing. Talk to me.”
“Are we a secret? Do you want to fuck me, but I’m not good enough to—”
The rage in his eyes makes me want to cower, but there’s a part of me deep inside that assures me this man would never hurt me. I don’t know if listening to that voice is a mistake.
