Page 53 of No, You Hang Up

When I don’t answer, he chuckles, and nudges at my face with his nose before lapping up the salty remains of my tears.

“Better calm down,” he advises, his teeth grazing my skin. “Because we’re nowhere near done.”

twenty-four

Mistakes have been made.

It’s my very first thought when consciousness floods back to my unwilling body. My head throbs a little, in that way that tells me I had just a little too much to drink. But even more so that I really overdid it last night and didn’t give my body enough nutrients for marathon sex.

Though I’m not suremarathon sexcovers everything we did during the night; the aches and pains along my skin and in my bones are enough to prove it. I groan without opening my eyes, though when a distant roll of thunder sounds, I’m relieved at the idea of not having to glare into the sun today.

“God, you’ve been doing this for an hour.” A voice beside me chuckles, just as an arm is thrown over me. I’m pulled back into the length of Huxley’s warm, solid frame, and I let out a soft huff as he rolls me over onto my back.

“I’m hungover.”

“You didn’t drink enough to be hungover, you’re just a baby,” he dismisses. “But if you want to be a brat this morning, I suppose I could let you. After all, you were so good for me, Kai?—”

“Don’t start,” I’m quick to interrupt. “Don’t you dare use the ‘g’ word. I want to sleep.”

He scoffs as he nuzzles my jaw, and I finally look up at him with narrowed eyes just as he leans upward just a little bit. It’s unfair just how gorgeous he is, and I sigh internally. Even if he is a serial killer with a stash of sedatives, Huxley really is just so damn perfect.

His scarred lip doesn’t detract from his looks at all. Quite honestly, I think it adds to them. Reaching up, I absently tangle my fingers in his hair and my jaw cracks open around a huge yawn. “You’re still here,” I murmur as an afterthought.

“Uh, yeah.” He seems a little offended that I’ve said it and turns to nip at my forearm like he’s punishing me for saying something stupid. “Yeah, you’re sort of stuck with me.”

“For how long?” I tug harder on his soft hair when he bites down, but that only seems to make him nip a little harder as his tongue darts out to taste my skin.

“Forever.”

“You have a house, though, don’t you? An apartment? A townhome? A mansion?”

Once again, he rolls his eyes at me in that cynical, almost irritated way. But I know it’s just for show. Especially when he dips down to bury his face against my throat. “I have an apartment I rent,” he tells me with his mouth against my neck. “So what? Doesn’t mean you aren’t stuck with me.”

“You have a job.”

“A few hours a day of separation is healthy, I hear.”

This time it’s me who rolls their eyes, and I fight not to slap the side of his head. “You…” I trail off, my confidence failing me, which it rarely does. My hesitation is surprising enough that I can feel him glance up at me, though I stare at the ceiling and listen to the first few drops of rain instead of meeting his dark, probing gaze.

“You’re a murderer.”

He chuckles and relaxes beside me, his arm still wrapped around my bare waist. “Yeah,” he agrees, moving just enough that his chin is on my shoulder and his nose brushes my ear. “Yeah, I’m definitely that.”

“I shouldn’t let you stay.” The words are hard to get out, but he doesn’t really seem phased by them.

“You shouldn’t.” He’s definitely not arguing with me, at least. “But you will. Because for some unknown reason, you really fucking like me. And before you make a comment, you like me for more than just my cock and how good I am at getting you to come on my fingers.”

“You have the personality of a rattlesnake,” is my quick, quipped reply. In response, he makes a hissing noise close to my ear and licks at my jaw with a snicker.

“Be glad I’m not venomous then,” he snickers. “Otherwise you’d be dead by now.” To prove his point, he sinks his teeth into the softness of my shoulder, turning me a little to do it. I murmur a soft sound of dissent, trying to put up some token amount of resistance.

But I can’t. Instead, my arm slides over his shoulders, inviting him to bite down harder. He does, to my delight, and sucks at my skin hard enough that I know I’m going to have a nice, dark mark right there. When he’s done, he releases me from his teeth, only to lave over the spot with his tongue. It’s a bit raw and irritated, so my skin tingles at every swipe, but it does nothing to quell the way my thighs press together to relieve the ache building between them.

“Stop,” I groan, finally pushing him away. “I told you I want to sleep. It’s way too early for this.” Though I flip over resolutely, I don’t resist when he cuddles against my back and wraps his arm over me again.

“I mean it,” he sighs, face against my shoulder. “You know that, right?”

“Mean what?” I ask absently, already fading back out as the storm picks up outside. I love to sleep during a storm, love to just lie in bed and listen to it swell and swell until?—

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