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Letting out a sigh, I rested my head against his arm. He was right, of course. We lay beneath the covers, Brett on his back and me on my side. “It just… being there, seeing his parents, it brought up memories, and not the good kind.”
“I thought you only had good memories of this kid? Before the breakup.”
“Sort of. I mean, yes? It’s… it’s hard to describe. I guess now that I’m looking back, things don’t feel the same. Maybe everything’s just tainted.” And not by the breakup. By other things, things I could compartmentalize, separate, and lock away in different parts of my head. Now that separation was impossible, the lines in my head blurry. “I don’t think you should’ve killed him, Brett.”
Brett let out an annoyed huff, and he rolled onto his side, draping his other arm over my hip. “Are you ever going to let that go?” He sounded like I was nagging him about some silly little mistake and not, you know, a legit murder.
“Let it go? It hasn’t even been a week.”
“Yeah, so what? You said you were over him.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t care that he’s dead,” I whispered. It was hard to have an argument while keeping our voices down. “And I just… I don’t know. I don’t think he was my stalker—”
“But you haven’t heard from your stalker in a while, right? He’s gone MIA.”
That was true, but it wasn’t like he called me every day. Sure, he hadn’t busted into my bedroom lately and drew me while I was sleeping, but that didn’t mean anything. He could simply be biding his time, knowing I might be grieving Zak’s death and waiting to rub it in my face or something.
Or Brett was right and Zak had been my stalker all along.
When I was silent, Brett’s hand moved from my hip, sweeping some of my hair away from my face. Not like he could see it since it was so dark, but it didn’t matter. He did it with an expert touch, and I had to close my eyes and revel in it.
“Trust me, Charlie, you’ve got nothing to worry about anymore,” Brett whispered, probably thinking that my stalker was my only problem. But, just like Zak, he didn’t know everything. Maybe one day I would tell him, go a step further with him than I had with Zak, but not today. Tonight, I simply wanted to forget.
I brought a hand to the side of his face and moved so that I could press my lips against his. I didn’t think Brett was expecting that, because it took a few moments for him to kiss me back—but once he started, it was all engines go.
Brett’s wide, strong body rolled on top of me, his hands taking my wrists and pinning them over my head. Would this whole thing be considered a booty call? Had I basically invited him into the house just to have sex with him?
Eh… sort of.
The kiss turned fiery, passionate and fast. Almost clumsy in the darkness, his lips bruising but delicious. Brett devoured me whole, and I moaned into the kiss, squirming when I felt his body lean down against mine, pinning me down to the bed.
He let go of my wrists and drew his hands down my arms, slow to sweep them up my shirt to my tits, where he tweaked and teased my nipples into hard points. Brett tore his mouth off mine to remind me, “Remember not to make a sound, Charlie. Wouldn’t want your parents thinking I snuck in for a late-night fuck after your ex’s funeral.”
No, we wouldn’t want that, even though it was awfully close to the truth.
His mouth lowered to the crux of my neck, showering me with kisses that made me want to moan. The bastard was probably doing this on purpose, trying to get me to make a sound even though my parents were literally across the hall.
One of his hands abandoned my chest in favor of something below the waist, and I sucked in a breath when he slipped that hand beneath my pajama shorts, his fingers curving along my body and instantly finding my clit. Brett rubbed it slowly at first, and then he picked up speed.
So many sensations coursed through me, it was enough to overload. His lips on my neck, his left hand on my tit, his other hand stroking my swelling clit—every place on me was getting assaulted by his affections, and a soft moan escaped me.
“Shh,” Brett murmured against my neck, “let’s not give your parents any other reasons to hate me. You need to be quiet for me, Charlie. Can you do that? Can you keep those sweet sounds of yours bottled up for me tonight?” His normally low, gravelly voice was so airy and breathless, I could listen to it all night.
“Yes,” I breathed out the word, nodding along with it. I could be quiet. I had to be. There was no other choice.
“Good,” he whispered directly into my ear. He nipped at my earlobe, his teeth grazing it so softly I shivered. I could feel his rock-hard cock, and I knew he was itching to get inside me. The man liked to take his time though, and I wouldn’t complain about that. The longer he touched me, the more he rubbed my clit, the wetter I’d be—and the better he’d feel inside.
Look at me, learning to appreciate a dick and the way it could make me feel. Never thought that would happen.
If Brett could touch me everywhere, if he could make me unravel like only he could… maybe it would be enough to make me forget all the memories I was fighting to ignore. All the bad could be replaced with good, with heat and passion and desire. True hunger that went both ways.
God. Brett could be so infuriating, but at the same time, I craved him like an addict.
My breathing grew short, his pace between my legs picking up. His fingers stroked my clit in a way that made my heart race and my back arch. It felt so good I couldn’t think straight.
Brett must’ve sensed I was close, because he brought his mouth back to mine, his one hand still toying with my nipple while his other inched me closer and closer to the brink. It was a good thing he went to kiss me, because when the orgasm hit me, I cried out—but he swallowed up the sound and pushed his tongue past my lips, running it along mine as his hand worked overtime on my swollen clit.
My body tensed up uncontrollably, and I rode the high that came with it for as long as I could, whimpering against his mouth. Brett was slow to remove his hand from my shorts, and I felt the loss immediately.
