Page 41 of Stocking Stuffers
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Sasha’s ability tokeep this beautiful man behind his proper barrier had completely melted the moment he’d made her come.Multiple times.It wasn’t the first time she’d had great sex. It wasn’t the first timethis monthshe’d had great sex, but Perry was different. Had been from the moment he’d startled her into dropping the P-Spot Pulse onto that hardwood floor.
All the tension, all the suspicion she normally armed her heart with, had leeched from her, and she wasn’t strong enough to build it back up at the moment.
His hand was running a circuit over her hip and thigh, the steady thump of his heart sounding in her ear. It was cozy.
And awful.
Well, okay, it was kind of wonderful because Perry was kind of wonderful. And she resented it.
“Are you cold?” he asked her, his voice languid and lazy, like their sex had made him soft and fuzzy around the edges.
“A bit.”
After Perry had come, he’d dispensed with the condom and sex toys, then cleaned them both up with a wet washrag. But now the remnants of water on her body were giving her the chills. He leaned over the side of his bed and grabbed his thick flannel shirt. She greedily snatched it from his hands and slipped it on, buttoning it up halfway.
He started to roll out of bed. “Let me grab your sweats too.”
“No, I’m fine. This will be enough.”
She lifted the cuff to her nose and inhaled. The fabric held a hint of his scent—that woodsy, earthy smell she wanted to bathe in.
“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now.”
Sasha glanced up from her horny shirt-sniffing. “Huh?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Wearing my shirt. No panties or pants. Your hair wild and spiky with sweat. Your lips red from my kisses.” He crawled over her and pressed his mouth to hers. “So fucking sexy.”
She stroked her hands down his back all the way to his tight butt, which she grabbed because it was a nice butt that deserved some love.
“Back atcha.”
He lifted his face so he could grin at her, and her breath tumbled in her lungs. He was more than sexy. Perry was beautiful. So fun and expressive and open.
She wished … well, she wished she were different. Wished she could be what he needed.
I don’t want to get hurt.
The last thing Sasha wanted was to hurt him. Or get hurt herself. Maybe she should get out of his bed, out of his room, away from all the sparkly Christmas lights and warm feelings.
But she couldn’t. Not yet.
Perry rolled off her and cuddled her against him, their limbs tangling together, her cheek back on his chest.
The silence between them grew oppressive—not because it was uncomfortable but because it was the opposite. She could have happily laid in his arms, wearing his flannel shirt and listening to him breathe for the entire night. But that very fact scared her shitless.
“So you and your ex just broke up?” she said, because there was nothing quite so awkward as talking about exes while naked in bed together. It would make anyone’s asshole clench.
He snorted and pressed his forehead into the space between her neck and shoulder. “Yes. At the beginning of December.”
“Well, you needed a rebound then.”
His body stilled, like she’d paused a videogame, before he took a deep, halting breath. “I guess so.” He propped himself up on an elbow. “Do you think rebounds really work?”
“For some people.” They had never worked for her, though. “A rebound fuck can help someone move on or make them miss the other person. It can give a person the confidence to get back out there in the dating game of life. Or it can show them that they’re not ready yet. I guess it depends on how you view sex and why you do it.”
“I didn’t think of this as a rebound when we started. I simply knew I wanted you, wanted to get to know you. I’m happy I did.”
