Her face sobered and she was back to the finger-staring. “It does sound stupid when you put it that way.”
I shook my head. “It sounds stupid when you put it any way. You were willing. Hell, I was ready and willing. And then my damned moral compass popped up.”
She snorted a laugh and bit her lower lip. “That’s not all that popped up.” Jen was back to looking at me and my one raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry about the frustration.”
I held her gaze steadily and disclosed, for reasons I couldn’t comprehend, “I’m used to it.”
“What?”
“In all damn honesty, Jensen, I get blue balls Every. Single. Day. that I see you.”
She didn’t even say, “Oh,” which confirmed my assumption that she knew I had been fiercely attracted to her all along.
“I know you usually go out to a club for that sort of thing, so if you wanted to…” To her credit, she waited ‘til the very end to look away.
One single laugh jumped out of my throat. “Are you suggesting that I go out and get laid, Jen?”
She looked around the room uncomfortably and gave me a half-hearted shrug.
“No. As long as you’re here in my house, I will not be going clubbing and picking up women. And before you ask, I’ve never brought any of them home to my bed. So it’s not that.”
“Then why?” Her voice was a shade above a whisper.
“Because other women are not what I want.”
Fast-forward to me lying in my bed, determined not to beat off to solve my problem. She was right down the hall, and I was pretty sure she was floating in the same overstimulated boat as me. If I walked down to her room right now, I didn’t think she would turn me away.
I stuck a pillow between my knees and rolled over so I couldn’t see out my open bedroom door any more.
***
I didn’t sleep much, waking up every half an hour or so, and finally quit torturing myself at three-thirty.
The dogs followed me down the hall to the kitchen, and, as was becoming our routine, out they went while I did the coffee. I guess it was too dark for them, ‘cause they wanted to come back in by the time I’d finished preparing the pot.
I considered grabbing the first shower and having all the hot water for myself, then I considered sharing the shower so that neither one of us would have to freeze. By the time I dragged myself out of that fantasy, it was two minutes to Jen’s alarm-time and I knew she’d be the one having the warm shower again today.
I’d walked to her bedroom with the intent of watching her sleep from the doorway. Again. I wondered briefly if there was a name for such peeping, and if it was considered a psychological affliction.
Or addiction, in my case.
But like a sky filled with shooting stars, she held me mesmerized.
I knelt down next to her bed, content for the moment to just drink her in. Her lips parted with a sigh in her sleep. I leaned closer, meaning to steal a tiny kiss to start my day. She’d never even know.
I leaned forward, just inhaling her sweet breath for a moment, and brushed my mouth over hers, light as her exhale. When I pulled back, she whimpered and tilted her face toward mine, like she was seeking me in her sleep.
Since I was still so close, I obliged, sweeping over her lips again softly. Her answering sigh was bewitching, daring me to take just one more taste. I sipped at her mouth, taking first her upper lip between mine, then that favorite of mine, the slightly pouty lower one.
Too late, I realized she was awakening. Her hand came up and I braced myself for the impact from Miss Smackety. It never came. Her fingers wove into my hair and tugged me back.
God help me.
All night, as I’d lain awake, I’d convinced myself her reaction was because of the beer.
“Liar,” I whispered against her mouth.
She giggled softly. “How do you know I wasn’t drinking all night long?”
I skimmed my lips over hers again and again, not daring to take it deeper with the bed so very right there. “Honestly? I hardly slept,” I finally answered.
Her reply was to wrap her arms around my neck and pull me in. She obviously wasn’t giving up until she’d had a proper Good Morning. I silently vowed to stay off that mattress and let her have it.
And damned if she didn’t turn it around and give it to me, instead. She had no intention of starting off either slow or gentle—her mouth was open under mine and the little moans coming from the back of her throat threatened the promise I’d made to keep my knees on the carpet.
Our tongues danced and tangled, that flashfire returning like it had never stopped.
I traced my fingertips down her cheek, and realized my hand was trembling. I didn’t dare touch anywhere else—her throat would require kisses, her shoulders a drag of my nails to make her shiver, and we weren’t even talking below her collarbone yet. So on her face my hand stayed or we’d both find ourselves calling in sick today.