As soon as I peek my head out, the look he gives me proves this was a mistake. A really stupid mistake.
“Rain-check,” he says, grabbing for me.
I try to dodge him, but I’m not quick enough. Maggie laughs as Rye holds me to his body with one hand, and closes the door with his other before wrapping me up in an unbreakable hold.
He grins down at me, warning me there will be hell to pay, but I go on the offense and push my lips to his. When the surprise makes him part his lips, my tongue slips into the gap, and his hold on me becomes different as I wrap my legs around his waist.
“You’re cheating,” he murmurs insincerely as his hands slide down to only cup my ass.
He walks me back toward his house, and I grin against his lips.
“Oh?” I ask, feigning innocence.
He doesn’t even acknowledge that as we stumble back into his house. He drops me to his bed, and I grin up at him. I know a way to make him forget that I just figured out how to reprogram his shower to where he can only get cold water to come out.
Okay, maybe Wrench—whose real name is still a mystery—came over and helped me out. He’s quickly becoming my favorite accomplice.
“You’re going to give me the new password,” Rye growls as he pulls his shirt over his head.
“Suuurrre. Right after you give me the password to my car’s stereo.”
I could have just gotten Wrench to fix it instead of hacking his shower, but where’s the fun in that?
I grab at his loose track pants and shove them to the floor, freeing the very excited part of his body. I love the fact that I’m the one who turns him on.
“I mean it, Brin. I love my hot showe—Fuck.”
The last word hisses through his lips when I take him into my mouth. He was so busy ranting that he didn’t even see what I was up to. Now he’s standing in front of the bed as I sit on the edge and own him.
The piercing slides over my tongue, teasing me with the power it has, and Rye’s hands go to my hair as I give to him what he gave to me a few hours ago. His mouth is a rare find, because he knows how to slay me in the best possible way with his tongue.
More air hisses through his teeth when I get him closer, taking him as deep as I can while clutching his hips for support. He rocks into me as his muscles tighten, giving me fair warning about what’s about to come—no pun intended.
“Brin,” he whispers hoarsely, warning me verbally, but I keep him firmly planted inside my mouth, refusing to stop my ministrations until I make him feel just as sublime as he made me feel.
Then the warm, salty flavor invades my mouth, and I swallow as quickly as I can while his whole body goes limp and he drops to the bed. I climb over beside him, glowing proudly as he wraps me up. He kisses me, even though he’s out of breath and it’s a weak kiss, but I can’t help but feel a little powerful.
“Stay the night,” he murmurs against my lips for the third time this week. We’ve been doing this thing for a week now, and he really wants me to sleep over every time.
“Nope,” I say, making the word pop.
I can’t and I won’t. It’ll confuse the already blurry lines.
We haven’t even had sex tonight. We’ve just talked and made out like teenagers, then there were a few exchanges of small pranks until he found his shower, and now I’ve just done this to him, just as he did to me earlier. I’d love to have sex, but I think I want to leave things the way they are—for tonight.
“Then let me spend the night over there with you,” he says while running his fingers through my hair and yawning.
He adjusts himself to put his head on my chest, and I begin running my fingers through his hair just like he was doing with mine.
He’s sweet when he’s sleepy. His eyes are barely staying open, his breaths are already slow, and his grip on me tightens every time he thinks I’m going to move.
So I get still and quiet. Within a few minutes, he’s fast asleep with his head resting on my chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. I kiss his forehead, but he doesn’t really move.
There’s no reason why I can’t stay here long enough for him to rest peacefully.
As soon as I’m sure he’s not going to wake up, I uncurl myself from his grip.
Just as I’m walking out of his room, his phone buzzes on the table in the hallway. I look—reflexively, not because I’m prying—and a touch of disappointment cloaks me.