“It is a big deal, Caleb, and it pisses me off that you’re just blowing it off as me being the irrational girlfriend!”
“Hey, you said it. . . .”
Getting off the bed, I turned to face him. “You shouldn’t have got that dumbass tattoo!”
His face hardened and he slid off the bed, grabbing his underwear from the floor to put them on in jerky movements. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten it if girls didn’t enjoy sucking me so much, moaning and panting for it.”
Pain and anger sliced through me. To keep from bursting into tears, I went with the anger. “You asshole! How would you like it if I had a similar tattoo, but instead it said Welcome All?”
Instead of answering, Caleb grabbed a bottle of water off the nightstand and took a swig. I could have sworn his lip was twitching. If he laughed I’d throw something at him.
My misery must have seeped through my angry expression. He came around the bed, his face soft, forcing me into his arms. “I’m sorry, princess.”
“I hate it,” I whispered weakly, feeling a hurt I couldn’t help no matter how my brain told me to be rational about it.
“I know,” he responded on a squeeze.
“I may never go down on you,” I warned him.
Another squeeze. “Now that’s just crazy talk.”
“It’s not funny, Caleb. I really wish you hadn’t gotten it. It’s going to be a constant reminder of every girl that came before me.”
He ran soothing kisses over my forehead, across my cheek. “None of them mattered. You’re all that matters, Gianna.”
Feeling slightly better, I laid my head against his shoulder. “That’s nice to hear.” Not being able to help myself, I hid a smile and said, “I’d feel a lot better about it if you changed it to say, ‘hello, Gianna’ instead.”
His chest vibrated against me. “What would that earn me?”
Without hesitation, I answered, “Oral gratitude.”
“Tempting,” he teased. “How about if I just write it in with permanent marker?”
“No oral gratitude.”
“I guess I’ll just have to make do, then.” He began tugging at the sheet wrapped about me.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. “Again, Caleb? Can’t I at least take a shower first?”
“No shower.” With a yank, he ripped the sheet away.
“You really are a sex addict!” I said in a scandalized voice, not able to hold back the grin.
“Am not!” He pretended to be offended. I imagined his next tattoo saying “Sex Addict Extraordinaire” and inwardly cringed.
He smiled wickedly. “I’m a Gianna addict.”
“You better say that,” I ordered sternly.
He pulled me down on to the bed. “Have mercy and feed my addiction.”
He was ridiculous and exasperating, but I wouldn’t change one thing about him. Except for that damn tattoo.
Like I was his own personal rag doll, Caleb situated my legs so I was on his lap straddling him. Sitting upright and satisfied with his work, he checked with one hand for my readiness while giving my nipples attention with his mouth. I circled his neck with my arms, urging him on.
I was so ready for him.
He yanked his underwear out of the way and pushed up inside of me. Leaning back some, I watched his handsome face contort in ecstasy as he groaned, closing his eyes as he slid in. As they opened to meet my avid gaze, he brushed my cheek with the back of his fingers. His smile was tender before his mouth was on mine. Did he even realize how he looked at me sometimes? His tongue stroking mine had me writhing on his lap.
With a restless sound, he gripped my hips, pumping up into me. Catching on to the rhythm he liked, I began to take over, moving up and down with him eagerly. It was so good. It built up to a peak and exploded throughout my body. My climax seemed to trigger his own. As he groaned into my breasts, a wave of warmth flowed through me. I rested my head against his. “Caleb, I love you.”
His response was, “Shower time.”
Still inside me, he stood up with his hands under my thighs. Carrying me into the bathroom, he set my feet down on the cool tile. I shivered as he turned away to start the shower.
He hadn’t met my eyes since right before he climaxed.
The intense look on his face when he finally turned around startled me. If it was because of what I said, he could at least say what he was thinking. If he was irritated by my words, I didn’t care. Well, maybe I did. But I wasn’t going to hold back the emotion just because he did.
I wasn’t going to pretend not to be in love with him just because he was fooling himself into believing he wasn’t in love with me. Instinct told me what it was between us. It was in the way he looked at me when he wasn’t convincing himself otherwise. His denial was both aggravating and oddly cute.