Page 81 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Yeah?” I ask. “So…you trust me?”
She bites her bottom lip. “I do. Can you trust me? Even though I pushed you away like it was my third job for months and months?”
“As long as you’re done pushing me away now.”
She nods, hope in her eyes as she whispers, “I’m done pushing you away. So, get over here and kiss me already.”
When my lips meet hers, she sighs into my mouth with a relief that echoes through my bones. It’s like she’s been holding her breath and can finally exhale.
I know the feeling.
“Bed,” she says against my lips. “And fuck me hard. Like you mean it.”
“Bossy.”
“You like it.”
“I really do.”
We fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, urgent and clumsy with need. Her hands are in my hair, skimming over my shoulders, skating down my sides—while I work my way up her body with my mouth.
I catch her wrists, pinning them gently above her head. Her breath catches, and her eyes go dark. I lean down, teasing my lips against hers. She arches closer, chasing more contact, but I pull away. Again. And again. Until she’s squirming beneath me, frustrated sounds escaping her throat.
“Parker, I swear?—”
I silence her with a proper kiss this time, giving her everything I’ve got until she melts into the mattress. Her wrists flex under my grip, but she doesn’t try to break free. And when I release them to trail my way down her arms, she keeps her hands where I put them, giving me her trust all over again.
My mouth follows the same path.
The hollow of her throat where her pulse hammers. The soft skin between her breasts. Her ribs, where she’s ticklish. Lower, where she’s already wet and ready, tasting like desire and home.
And mine.
Mine, mine, mine…
The word thrums through my head, a drumbeat of celebration as she comes apart under my tongue with her fingers twisted in the sheets and my name on her lips. Before she’s finished shaking, I surge over her, sliding inside in one smooth thrust that drags matching groans from our throats.
No words now. Just her fingertips digging into my skin, my face buried in her neck, the perfect rhythm we find without trying. Like our bodies know each other, inside and out.
Like we’ve been doing this forever instead of twenty-four hours.
When she tightens around me, pulling me deeper with her heels against my ass, I capture her mouth again. Swallow hercries. Give her mine. Fall apart with her in the afternoon light, connected in every way that matters.
Afterward, we lie there sticky and boneless. She traces circles on my chest, I play with her hair, and neither of us seems to need anything else to be completely at peace.
Or so I think.
Apparently, Makena’s post-coital thoughts are a little more complicated than mine.
“Fair warning, my dad’s probably going to be a dick about this,” she says, petting my chest hair with a lazy finger in a way that’s weirdly soothing. “About us being together for real. He clearly thinks you’re too young, and I’m a gross old pervert.”
“Mygross old pervert,” I murmur.
She props herself up on an elbow to shoot me an amused glare. “I’m serious, Parker.”
“So am I. Your pervert side is top-notch,” I say, pushing on when she huffs in irritation. “Fine, your dad can go pound rocks for all I care. Your opinion is the only one that matters to me. But ifyoucare what he thinks, I could talk to him, take him out for a beer, and convince him that I’m a full-fledged adult capable of taking care of his daughter.”
“You don’t have to take care of me,” she says, frowning. “I’m not a stray cat.”
