“Reece.” He rested his head atop of mine. “You’re worrying about him. Stop it.”
“Mal …” How could I explain this to him? The words were weighted in lead, impossible to get out. I hadn’t been thinking about Reece, but now that he mentioned it …
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I wiggled out from underneath him, needing to see his face. Since when could he read me and why couldn’t I do the same? He appeared calm and sure, beautiful as sin. His lips sat slightly apart, his eyes serene. Suddenly, the words weren’t so impossible to find after all.
“I hurt him.”
“Maybe. But he’s the one that left you hanging on. He hurt you too.”
“But I fix things,” I said. “It’s what I do.”
“You can’t fix this.” He toyed with my hair, wrapping the short strands around a finger.
“Why not?”
“You going to dump my ass? Send me packing?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
He smiled and shrugged. “There you go.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is. I’m your boyfriend now, which means there’s no room for your hipster admirer. He’ll just have to lick his wounds while we lick other things.” He raised a devilish eyebrow.
My head filled with so many needy questions. A hundred and one ways to beg him for reassurance. No god damn way any of it was getting past my lips. He was so insanely perfect and I’d had him inside of me. My body buzzed with the memories, sliding straight toward overload. I wanted him again. Maybe I should just shackle myself to his ankle and be done with it. This could be the answer.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” I said. “But I needed to talk to him alone.”
“Yeah, I know. I was being a dick.” He moaned, looked to the heavens. “That enough of an apology?”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I get Reece is part of your life. I’ll try to be nice to him.”
“Thank you.”
His hair was in his face again. Carefully, I tucked some behind his ear and then cupped his cheek.
“Hey, crazy eyes. Operation Fake Girlfriend is off,” he murmured. “In case you were wondering.”
“It is, huh?”
“Way I figure it, we’re together until we decide we’re not together anymore. Let’s not put too much thought into it. Let it sort itself out, yeah?”
It was a sound plan, considering we’d only started sleeping together less than an hour ago. “I approve.”
“Glad to have you on board, Miss Rollins.” He covered my hand with his own, pressing it against his face. “I don’t wanna be unduly crass or any shit like that, but I’m worried about something.”
“What might that be?”
“Your shirt.”
I opened my mouth, shut it. “My shirt?”
“I think it’s chafing you. Subconsciously like.” His eyes were intense, his expression grave.
“My shirt is chafing my subconscious?”
“No, I believe it’s chafing the delicate skin of your nipples and the area around … what’s it called?”
“The areola?”
“Yeah, that bit. ‘Cause it’s all pink and sensitive, you know? It’s delicate, so I believe my concern with regards to the harsh and unyielding nature of your shirt is real important even though you have yet to acknowledge the discomfort it’s causing you.”
“You know you could have been one hell of a salesman.” He was so convincing, I almost felt bad for the soft cotton of my long-sleeved top,. “I’m wearing a bra. But my nipples really appreciate your concern.”
“Yeah, your bra’s in on it too. They’re both against you.”
“No way!” I said. He made it damn hard not to smile.
“I know, right? Thank fuck I’m here to deal with these things.”
“How about we go upstairs and I take my shirt and bra off, would that ease your mind?”
“I’d definitely feel a lot better if you did that, yes.”
“Well, alrighty then. Race you.” I jumped to my feet, barreling up the stairs, giggling. Mal’s arm came around me from behind, lifting me off my feet, pulling me back up against his chest.
“I win,” he said, and carried me into the apartment where we both won, big-time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Fingers were playing with me. Clever fingers.
My alarm hadn’t gone off for work yet. It was just before dawn. Sleep, however, wasn’t an option with him stirring me up the way he was. Since when was Mal a morning person? Answer, since he wanted sex.
God bless him for his base desires.