Page 98 of Tangled Like Us
I peel off my chunky heels, and I notice the bed has a hefty iron-rung headboard. Without much hesitation, I climb up and stand on the mattress.
Box springs squeak, and the bed undulates beneath my feet. I bounce and watch him remove his earpiece and then unclip the mic wire from his collar. He detaches the radio from his waistband and places it on the nightstand.
A fan whirls only a few inches above my head, and I’m careful not to jump too high. “You can’t stand on the bed with me,” I realize. Clearly, he’s too tall.
Thatcher nods, and stepping closer, he grips the headboard. “Jane,” he says with the perfect mix of tenderness and force.
“Yes?” I balance on the creaking bed.
“You’re gonna have to moan.”
20
JANE COBALT
“Right,”I say, my chest rising and falling. I’ve never ached for someone to touch me as terribly as I ache for Thatcher. Desiring his large hands to run down every single plane and valley of my body. On this very bed.
He eyes my breasts for a short fleeting second. “Jane—”
“Mmm,” I moan, starting softly.
Suppressing my orgasms has been a habit lately since I live in a townhouse with thin walls. It’s going to be kind of fun trying to be louder.
Fake louder, Jane.
Thatcher shoves the iron headboard against the wall, thethumpsimulating aggressive sex perfectly.
“Ahh, yeah,right there,” I moan, bed squeaking beneath me. “Right there!”
We stare deep into one another, magnetized, the air heady and tense.
“Ohhh yeah!” I try to emulate the best porn I’ve seen.
He quickens the banging of the headboard. The intensity of his brown irises nearly steals my breath altogether.
“Oohhh!” I let out a long moan that soundsnothinglike my actual sex noises. A lot is riding on the believability of this task.
And I might just be the reason we fail.
Thatcher suddenly stops rocking the headboard. Being around me so often, he can read my emotions very well. Like how my brows bunch in worry.
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t that bad.”
I think he’s just being sweet. “My moans sound fake.” I try to stay positive. “Maybe I should try a different tactic? More subtle, but then how will guests overhear?” I put my knuckles to my lips, almost lost in thought. “…I don’t know how to make it sound more real than it being real.” My mouth drops slightly. “I didn’t mean—well, I did, but I’m not saying…”
What am I saying?
Our gazes draw to the mattress at the same exact time. We’re thinking the same thing, most surely.
Our eyes catch again.
Thatcher releases his clutch off the headboard. “We don’t have to take our clothes off.”
I nod heartily. “Dry humping, I agree.”
“Enough to make you come.”
Holy…I nearly fall into his arms right there. Legs weak, body shuddering. “Yes,” I whisper, slowly lowering to my knees so I don’t face-plant into my bodyguard.
