Page 55 of The Sun
“That’s not true,” she whispered. “I am something you can have.” Her lips pressed to mine in a featherlight kiss.
“Don’t do this to me,” I mumbled against her mouth, even though my hand was now tangled in her thick hair.
“No, don’t you do this to me.” Another kiss. This time her lips parted, and I couldn’t help but open my mouth and fist her hair a little.
“I’m trying not to do anything to you.”
“Stop trying.” She grabbed my face, kissing me hard and angry, like she wanted to hate me but just couldn’t.
And for a second, I did stop trying.
I grasped her hips and dragged her on top of me. I let my fingers slip underneath the hem of her shirt, teasing her warm skin.
Sunny rolled her hips just enough to force a groan from me and cause my fingers to twitch on her sides. The slightest friction could nearly drive me over the edge, but with her, it shouldn’t have surprised me.
A soft ah pressed through her lips, and I slammed my eyes closed, using every ounce of restraint I possessed not to move, not to roll on top of her and do all the things to her bad boys are known for. My breathing went all uneven like I’d just ran fifteen miles uphill. I kept wetting my lips with my tongue, every now and then unintelligibly mumbling her name while pretending there wasn’t a layer of clothes separating us and that I was inside her.
I swallowed the groan sitting at the back of my throat when she did send me over the edge, hoping to God she wouldn’t notice the wet spot that most likely soaked through my jeans. Guys like me aren’t supposed to get off that easily.
She tensed, and the slight rock to her hips ceased. Her head fell back, and her lips parted on a hard, moan-laced exhale. My heart pounded in my chest, and when her eyes finally met mine, she looked mortified.
She swallowed, then swept a hand through her hair before sliding off me. “Um. . .” She shimmied to the edge of the bed.
“Come here.”
She glanced over her shoulder at me, her lip pinched between her teeth, then she reluctantly laid back, stiff as a bored, and I fell asleep beside her, wondering what kind of girl she’d grown into.
13
Sunny
Idebated on stopping at Pickle’s Pit Stop Quick Mart to buy a pack of cigarettes, even though I didn’t smoke.
It seemed like that was what everyone in high school did when they had some life-altering event on their mind. And I had totally, absolutely, positively dry humped Elias Black until I got off and then, as soon as his lungs fell into the rhythm of sleep, I left.
I just—left. I was terrified and embarrassed at the stupid, uncontrolled sounds I had made, not to mention that I lied to my parents about staying at Daisy’s who lied to her parents about staying at my house.
It was a roundtrip shitshow.
By the time I parked in front of Thomas Radcliffe’s house, the midnight blue of the sky had faded from a faint yellow to a pumpkin orange where the sun just began to rise. A low fog crawled out onto the fields, and the early morning birds’ songs echoed in the trees.
I rang the doorbell, then pounded on the door a few times, finally crossing my arms and taking a step back when I heard the clatter of about a hundred beer cans topple to the floor. Heavy footfalls came from inside followed by a low groan. The lock clicked, and the door swung open to Thomas stumbling away while one last Budweiser rolled from the kitchen table to the floor.
“Not even gonna see who it is?” I asked.
He swatted his hand through the air before turning to go up the stairs. I closed the door behind me, nearly choking on the sour smell of beer that filled the air.
“What the. . . Dude!” Thomas’ voice bellowed down the stairwell. “Not in my fucking bed. How many times do I have to tell you?”
There was unintelligible grumbling. Something whacked a wall.
“Hey!” Brandon’s deep voice startled me, and I jumped, holding my chest as I spun around. He was sprawled out on the couch with a Coca-Cola bear Christmas blanket thrown over him. He lifted his head, squinting against the sun that shined through the bay windows. “I thought you left?”
“I did.” I chewed at my lip. “I just, uh, came back for Daisy.”
Scrubbing over his face, he sat up with a groan. “You look,” he halfway arched a brow, “distressed?”
“No.”
