Page 69 of Take A Number
The intensity in his gaze has me swooning, but before I can reply, he comes over me, holds my wrists against the bed, and slams deep inside. No prep, no swipe, no glance to see if I’m ready. He just knew I was ready. And God, was I ever. I couldn’t have been more ready. The soaked panties that were tossed somewhere in the kitchen were proof I’d been ready for a while.
What happens next isn’t a sweet, slow sexual encounter. Dean doesn’t take his time with my body and kiss every inch of it.
We fuck. Hard. Fast. And loud. Very, very loud.
Our foreheads press together as we climax at the same time, our gasps of release intermingling with one another. When our eyes connect, for a moment, a very brief moment, I let myself fantasize that Dean is my real boyfriend, and we had a real fight tonight. And what we just did was real makeup sex.
Not fake.
And the thing that makes all those fantasies feel like a reality…is the fact that Dean gets rid of his condom, crawls back into my bed, wraps my naked body in his arms, and kisses me softly before saying into my hair, “I’m sleeping here tonight…got a problem with that, sugar lips?”
“Fine by me,” I croak into his chest and bite my lip nervously as our breaths synch with one another.
He kisses my forehead and murmurs, “I’m sorry for getting upset tonight.”
I quietly gasp and reply, “I’m sorry too.”
He grunts a sound of approval, and in seconds, his breathing becomes deep and heavy as he falls asleep, still holding on to me, still breathing in my hair, still nuzzled into my cheek. It feels real. The fight, the makeup, the holding…it all feels real.
That’s okay, right? Because it was Dean who said rules were meant to be broken.
The morning light pours in through the bedroom’s frosted sliding doors, waking me way earlier than my body is ready for. When I come to, I’m spooning Norah like this is something I do on a regular basis.
It’s not.
In fact, I can’t remember the last time I spooned a woman, and now I’ve done it with Norah twice in only a week. Steeling myself, I press my nose into the back of her neck and inhale her sweet vanilla scent. It’s enough to get me hard if I wasn’t already sporting morning wood. I could so easily slip inside her right now, no condom, no barrier…just her flesh with mine. God, I bet she’d feel incredible bare. I wouldn’t have a chance at a twenty-minute dick without a condom.
Fuck, I need to get control of my thoughts or I’m going to climax in her damn sheets. I gently pull my arm off Norah, careful not to wake her. It’s barely seven a.m. on a Sunday, which means it’s the one day Norah’s bakery is closed, and she gets to sleep in, so the last thing I want to do is fuck that up because I demanded to sleep over last night.
Fuck.
I make my way into her attached bathroom and relieve myself, trying to shake off this hangover. I barely had a sip of the drink I ordered last night, so this isn’t an alcohol hangover.
It’s a Norah hangover.
Last night was a lot. Too much. I was mentally prepared for Norah’s mom, but Douche Whacker coming in hot…I did not see that coming.
Fucking Nate aka Captain Douchebag aka The Idiot still stupid enough to be bragging about the girl whose virginity he took when they were kids. Who fucking does that?
I knew as soon as he shook my hand that this dinner wasn’t going to be about two friends catching up. He was letting Norah know straight up that he was available and interested. Fucking prick.
Every time I tried to talk last night, he’d interrupt me with an insipid‘Norah, remember when’story that wasn’t even interesting. I have better‘Norah, remember when’stories from only knowing her a few years than that idiot does from knowing her most of their lives. He’s fucking pathetic. He’s still living at home with his parents and trying to put the moves on a woman with a boyfriend…nice moves, bro.
And that talk about Norah’s cookie. He was baiting me. No doubt about it. He wanted me to lose my temper in front of her parents so they wouldn’t approve of me. Then he can swoop in with his family connection and all their history and help Norah’s mother pick out the monogram for their bathroom towels.
I played right into his hand too. I’m glad Norah got me out of there before I made too big of a fool of myself in front of her parents. None of this is real, but I actually like Norah’s dad. I don’t need him thinking I’m some idiot hot head who can’t keep my cool.
Why couldn’t I keep my cool? God, the way Norah and I were fighting last night and how hard we made up afterward…it reminds me of something…
My parents.
Fuck.
Chills crawl up my spine at that disturbing thought. When I glance at myself in the mirror, I hate what I see reflecting back at me:
My father.
I quietly step out of Norah’s bathroom, suddenly very anxious to get out of here. To get away from Norah, away from her bed, her smell, her presence.
