“Is everything okay?” He didn’t miss my tone that time.
“Everything is fucking fabulous,” I hiss rummaging through a clean laundry basket for a shirt. It’s on the floor, so I am bent over and starting to get even more frustrated. I’ve worked myself into a complete frenzy, and now, I can’t find my stupid, motherfucking over-the-shoulder boulder holder. Goddamnit!
“Lennon?” His voice is gruff.
“What?!” I snap, my back still turned towards him as I furiously continue to rip through the clean clothing.
I feel him before he even touches me, and the way my traitorous body reacts to him only pisses me off more. I ignore his presence behind me until his fingers settle on the outside of my bare thighs, just below the edge of my towel. Finally, I close my hand around that sneakily little bastard of a bra when I feel him bend over, folding his body against mine. His hot breath on my ear sends a shiver over my body when he speaks.
“You better not wear this towel outside of your room, Lennon,” he growls. “I don’t want anyone else enjoying the view I just got.” He nips at my ear and I squeeze my thighs together in response. His fingers curl up underneath the towel and he slowly drags his knuckles over my bare skin. “In fact, I think you should only wear this towel for me.” His husky voice is clouding my brain. The anger I was channelling has quickly transformed into lust, and I’m almost panting.
I’m not sure what possessed me to attempt to speak. “I, uhh… I don’t… I just…” I stutter before trailing off as he moves his right hand to settle on the back of my thigh, the pad of his thumb brushing over my ass. I can’t stop the moan that escapes me when he pushes the towel up, spreading his left hand over my hip. His rough hands feel fucking amazing as they move over my soft skin. When he tightens his hold on my hip, my legs start to quiver. I haven’t slept with anyone else since our night together—almost seven months ago—and my body is so receptive to his touch.
He licks the skin just behind my ear before nipping at it. I’m almost certain I could come just from this.
“Mine,” he growls, biting onto my earlobe. “This is all fucking mine.”
I’m about to start begging him to touch me when someone bangs on the door. “We’re going to be late for the movie, you idiots! Let’s go!” Jay shouts through the door.
An awareness comes over me, and the lust-induced haze my brain was in clears up. Nothing has changed. Just because my body wants him doesn’t mean I can handle this. I can’t handle this. I stand up slowly so I don’t smack him in the face with the back of my head and step out of his embrace. I keep my back towards him when I speak.
“I need to get dressed.” My words come out short and cold, but I don’t care. I’m running solely on self-preservation instincts now, and those instincts are telling me to run like fucking hell.
He doesn’t challenge me this time, just sighs before I hear him step out of the room. Leaving me alone, still shaking in my towel, waiting for the flush of arousal to fade from my skin. When another booming laugh comes from the living room, I fly into action.
I remove the towel from my hair as I walk over to the dresser and brush through it quickly before—with no time to blow-dry it—styling it in a wet ballerina bun on top of my head. Then I slide into my yoga pants, forgoing underwear simply to save me the time of looking for a pair, and pull on a white pullover sweater. By the time I walk out of my room, it’s been less than five minutes. My socked feet are shoved into my favorite UGGs and a massive knit scarf is wrapped around my neck. I take out the debit cards I’ll need from my wallet and zip them into my jacket pocket before stepping into the living room.
“I’m ready,” I tell everyone, avoiding looking at Jami on purpose.
“It’s about bloody time.” Beth stands, rolling her eyes at me. “What were you doing in there?”
I start to blush, but it’s Jami who speaks. “I thought you said we were going to be late. So let’s get a move on, why don’t we?” he says, swatting Jay on the back of the head.
“Yes, sir.” Jay gives us all a mock salute.
We have to take two cars because our little group has actually become quite big, and I immediately offer to ride in Greyson’s truck. Jami, Jayden, and Beth climb into the Jeep, while Greyson, Hannah, Peyton, and I ride in his black monster of a truck. I’m sitting in the back seat, watching the trees whip by, as I remember the night we spent together. It was after his birthday party in June. The one where he’d been so drunk he’d decked a guy who was flirting with me—in front of his flavour of the week no less. I bumped into him in town less than a month later and we decided to grab dinner together. The events that followed are burned into my memory for eternity.