Page 85 of No Interest in Love

“Um…I may be loud,” she says as I push the material of her underwear out of the way.

“How is that a bad thing?”

“Like, embarrassingly loud.” She nods behind me. “Hand me a pillow.”

I shake my head, curiosity piqued. I run a finger along what I now realize is Shay’s volume button. Loud doesn’t even cover the sound she makes.

“You are gonna wake the neighbors.” I laugh, but she grabs me by the back of the neck and smashes her mouth against mine. Suddenly I’m swallowing her noises, moving my fingers in a faster rhythm, wanting to taste more and more of her moans. She rocks against my hand, kissing me with ferocity. I don’t know whether it’s to shut up me or her, but I really don’t care either way.

After several seconds (or it could be minutes or hours or days), her thighs clench, and her lips pop free from mine. She lets out a bunch of Korean at a volume I’m pretty sure can break glass, then she throws herself forward and I swear…she bites my shoulder clean off.

“Holy shit,” I say, unbelievably flattered and turned on, but equally paranoid that I’m bleeding all over the bed sheets. “You like to bite.”

“I…I’m sorry,” she pants, volume returning to normal. I slip my fingers back to her thigh, in absolute wonder that I was able to get her off within seconds. The boys and I are glad that speed is okay for her.

“Am I bleeding?” I ask. She laughs and shakes her head against my shoulder before pulling my shirt away and pushing kisses along the skin. The pain heals almost instantly. The thing could’ve needed stitches and I wouldn’t have known.

“All better?” she asks. And I take her chin and direct her kisses to my lips. I realize as our tongues dance that I’ve never truly kissed a woman before her. Not like they’re meant to be kissed.

Her nails trail down my cheeks, rest on my chest for the briefest of moments, then slither to the bottom of my shirt.

“Off,” she says. I laugh around her mouth and let her strip me bare. And as adorable as she looks in the baggy shirt she’s wearing, I think I’ve seen her in baggy clothing long enough.

“Off,” I reply, lifting the shirt from her body. My eyebrows rise when I take in her skin. “No bra,” I utter like an idiot.

“I had to get rid of that thing.”

“Well…you’re a big fat liar, then.”

“How so?” she asks, leaning in and nibbling on my ear. My brain’s starting to melt.

“Uh…you said it’s noticeable when you don’t wear one.”

“You did notice.”

A lazy smirk hits my lips. “We’re fighting again.”

She settles her hands on my chest and shoves me back to the pillows. I could look at her all day like this.

A nail strokes along the lines of my tattoo, and I bring up my hands, pretending there’s a camera in them, then say, “Click.”

“Taking a mental picture?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Make sure you save it to the hard drive.” She rolls her hips slightly, then slides down my body.

I’m dying.

Nope.

I’m dead.

She rests her chin on her hand over my belly button, still driving me absolutely mad as she traces my tattoo.

“Do you have any more?”

I shake my head. I think. Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening anymore beyond her hand on my skin. “Do you?”

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