Page 134 of Tangled Like Us
JANE COBALT
“I have more somewhere in here…”I sink to my knees and open the bottom bathroom cabinet. Thatcher watches me. Shirtless. Chiseled body covered in a light layer of sweat.
I’m in nothing but a pair of panties and a fuzzy baby blue robe. Tied a little too tight. Heat brews everywhere, but I wasn’t about to make the three foot trek from my doorway to the bathroom innothing. Because I have roommates.
Who are thankfully gloriously asleep, but I’m quiet anyway as I shift products and hair irons out of the way. “It’s in the back,” I whisper more to myself. Ten seconds later my fingers wrap around a familiar slender bottle.
I grab the lube and carefully andoh sogently shut the cabinet closed.
When I turn back around, Thatcher is still watching me. Eyes planted like he can’t look away. It’s been that way all night. Wonderful, mind-altering sex that neither of us wants to end just yet. We aren’t even close to three in the morning.
My gaze travels the length of his body. He’s in drawstring pants. He had enough time to hop into those before we made it to the bathroom. No underwear. That is a very clear and well-defined…fact.
“You are very big,” I say what’s on my mind. Oh God. My eyes spring back up to catch his.
He’s quiet and hard to read.
I continue on. “In a very pleasurable way. The best of ways. I love your dick.” I’ll leave it there. It’s a fine endnote. He’s already told me he loves my pussy, so there is no harm in mentioning the fact that his cock is also very appreciated.
His nose flares in arousal and his ab muscles tighten. “Thank you.” His eyes don’t leave mine, but he draws forward. His hands slowly untie my robe. In barely a whisper, he breathes, “I love your breasts.”
Oh…I reach back for the lip of the sink. My nipples stiffen. I’ve officially decided I enjoy us so plainly and directly telling each other what we love.
His palm slips into my robe, sliding against my bare waist. I set aside the lube, and then curl my fingers over the hem of his drawstring pants, pulling him closer.
A noise gravels his throat. With his free hand, he reaches past my shoulder, his hardness pressing up against me, and he turns on the sink faucet. To drown our noises, most surely.
He’s a very skilled multi-tasker. At the same time, his other hand is on its own mission to my breast. He cups me with a firm palm. His thumb brushes over my tender and aching nipple.
I’m already soaked from all we’ve done tonight. And so thankful that I at least put on a pair of panties before we left the bedroom.
I reach down in his pants to clutch him. “Fuck,” he groans softly and thrusts forward on instinct. My ass digs into the cabinet, and I throb for a harder entry.
Quickly, he picks me up around the waist and sets me on the sink. Breath ejects from my mouth. Frizzed hair sticks to my lips.
My robe opens completely exposing my bare skin. But it doesn’t feel any cooler. I’m burning alive underneath his heady gaze.
“Thatcher,” I say his name like I’m pleading for him. I reach for the strings to his pants to tug him closer. My legs spread and he fits between them.
“We have to be quiet,” he whispers so softly. It’s barely audible even over the water gushing into the sink.
He bends down to kiss me. Lips on lips. His hands start to roam my body with an intensity that I thought we left in the bedroom.
Apparently, it’s here. Everywhere. As long as we’re together, I’m not sure it will disappear.
He slowly trails kisses down my neck. My breasts. Stopping to take my nipple into his mouth. I fist his hair and tremble.
Fingers digging into the soft flesh of my inner thighs, he releases my nipple and stands straighter. He takes all of me in for a moment. Back in the bedroom, I’d drink up the look he’s giving me. Like he could devour each and every inch of my body.
But for some reason, here under the bright bathroom lights, I suddenly stiffen like a wooden board. Frozen up.
He notices almost immediately, his eyes jumping up and digging into mine with concern.
“Jane.”
Don’t close your robe.I command myself. My breathing comes out in a weird panicked wave. This has never happened. Not once in all the times I’ve been with a guy. And I know what’s causing it. I do.
“Jane, please talk to me,” Thatcher says, worry cinching his voice. He actually raises it above a whisper, risking it.
