Page 116 of When Fences Fall
“I see what’s happening,” she giggles, biting her lower lip and making the tent in my sweats impossible to hide. “That’s,” her teeth dig deeper into her flesh, “quite impressive. Are you wearing those for me?”
My laughter is coarse, so is my voice. “I prefer to wear nothing for you.”
“Gray sweats,” she points her finger at the area where all my blood is located right now, “are the second-best thing after wearing nothing.” Her voice turns breathy. “And from now on, you can wear them only for me.”
The possessiveness in her voice makes the tent in my pants nearly painful. “Fuck being quiet. I need you to yell my name when you come.” With that, I grab her, throwing her over my shoulder. She squeals, her fists pounding lightly on my back.
“Jericho! What are you doing?”
“Taking you somewhere we can be loud.”
I carry her down the stairs, each step firm and deliberate, her body bouncing slightly against my shoulder. My fingers dig into the softness of her thighs, and she wiggles, trying to free herself, so I deliver a light smack to her ass—something I’ve wanted to do since she trespassed on my property on that veryfirst night.
“Be still,” I growl, and her breath catches audibly.
“Jericho,” she whispers, but there’s no protest in it anymore.
I push through the front door, not caring about the cold or the neighbors down the road or anything else. All I care about is getting her to my place, where I can hear every sound she makes without restraint.
The night air hits us both, and she gasps against my back. “It’s freezing!”
“You’ll be warm soon enough.”
I stride across the yard, snow shifting even more aggressively beneath both our weight. Her house recedes behind us, and mine looms ahead, waiting with a welcoming light on the front porch. I fumble with the door, still holding her securely, and kick it shut behind us once we’re inside.
The house is quiet, still. I don’t bother with lights. I know my way through the darkness, up the stairs, to my bedroom. I’ve walked this path hundreds of times, but never with this purpose, never with her in my arms.
When we reach my room, I finally set her down, her body sliding against mine until her feet touch the floor. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and I can see them searching my face.
“You kidnapped me,” she says, but there’s a smile in her voice.
“I did.” I cup her face in my hands. “Any complaints?”
“Not yet.” She rises on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine. “But the night is young.”
I back her toward the bed, my hands sliding under her shirt, finding warm skin. She shivers, but not from cold. Her fingers slip beneath the elastic rim of my sweatpants, clumsy in their eagerness.
“What happened to sleeping naked?” I ask, touching every inch of her body I can get my hands on.
“Did you want me to open the door naked?” she giggles.
“That’d be a welcoming sight.”
“I’ll do that the next time,” she promises, rising to nibble on my ear.
The possibilities make me let out a loud groan, and I close my eyes, losing myself to the sensation. I’ve spent countless nights imagining this, imagining her—beneath me, around me—and actually having her here, in my space, is better than my wildest fantasy. I turn on the low lamp next to my bed; I want to see all of her.
“Jericho?” she whispers into my neck.
“Mmm?” I ask, trying to hold us both up on our feet.
“We need to move on before I get spooked and change my mind.”
I instantly freeze and pull away. Finding her eyes, I hold them because I need her to understand how serious my words will be. “Nora, if you are not sure about this. About me.” I swallow. “All you have to do is say it. I’m a patient man, and I can wait until you’re ready. We can do other things in the meanwhile.”
“Like what?” Her lips twitch.
Wiping my hand over my face, I give myself a moment to breathe and calm my overstimulated body. “Play chess. Read books. Go hiking.”
