The Executioner (Professionals 10)

“Yeah, okay,” I said, rolling my eyes, hoping it covered up the way desire flooded my system.

Bellamy’s arms slid out from under me before he nudged me to move to the far end of the bed where it butted up against the wall.

“I figured if I moved you in here, we could avoid whatever kind of mood getting cricks in your neck from sleeping upright might cause.”

“Oh, so you’re just thinking of yourself then,” I said, rolling onto my side away from him, genuinely not trusting myself if I had to look at his stupidly handsome face for another moment when we were in such close proximity.

“Love, I’m always thinking of myself,” he agreed, flicking the covers up over the both of us.

Then, I shit you not, sliding in behind my body. Like… behind-behind. With his knees cocked up under mine and my ass nestled in his lap.

“Except when I’m thinking about you,” he added, voice a smooth sound in my ear that made a shiver course through my whole body.

And outward shiver, too. Not one of the private internal ones that could have saved my pride a little bit.

He didn’t tease me about it. I stiffened, waiting for him to say something about how my words and my body weren’t in agreement.

But he shocked the shit out of me by saying nothing, just draped an arm over me, and seeming to drift right back off to sleep.

Meanwhile I stayed awake for I didn’t even know how long, feeling a mix of uncomfortable and somehow more comfortable than I’d ever been in my life. Did that make any sort of sense? Nope. But that was how I felt.

Uncomfortable, because I’d never spooned with a man before. I guess I just never dated men who were interested in anything to do with me as soon as our clothes were back on.

In retrospect, that was a lot sadder than I realized. I’d always told myself that was what I wanted as well. But maybe that wasn’t the truth. Maybe that was just what I thought was possible for me, not actually what I wanted. Or it was just my better sense reminding me that those guys were not the kids of guys I wanted any connection with outside of sex.

But being denied this kind of closeness, this non-sexual intimacy with someone? That was sad.

See, I had to place some blame on my upbringing. My mom was never around. When she was, she was sick and miserable or angry and harsh. There had never been any softness or affection in my formative years. By the time my aunt and uncle and Nasir came around, I was pretty fully formed already, dragging all that baggage and those issues along with me into my new life.

I was just, as I saw it, a fully formed human being who didn’t like touchy-feely shit.

But there was no denying that I was enjoying the sensation of just being held by a man. Without expectations of anything else. It was surprisingly comforting. And, as absurd as it was, it felt really safe.

Taking a slow, deep breath, I let my eyes drift closed, just soaking up the moment, until eventually, I fell asleep.

I woke up warm and content and a little fuzzy about why until I felt Bellamy’s breath in my hair, the way his hand was flattened on my stomach.

And, well, his cock pressing against my ass.

Before my eyes were even open, the desire was ricocheting against every nerve ending, making my sex clench hard with need.

Suddenly, Bellamy slid back a bit, far enough that when he pressed his hand to my hip, I had room to roll onto my back to look up at him as he looked down at me.

There was heat in his eyes, sure, but there was something else too. Something softer, I guess. And, therefore, not really something I fully understood. But there was a weird swirling sensation in my chest at seeing it.

Bellamy’s arm slid from my hip to the side of my face, framing it, and just looking at me for a long moment before his head started to lower down, before his lips sealed to mine.

It wasn’t even a heated kiss. Which seemed insane for a long moment. Because, well, weren’t all kisses supposed to be heated kisses?

But this wasn’t.

Just like the look in his eyes before his lips pressed to mine, this was something softer, something sweeter, something intimate without being hungry and rough.

That swirling sensation spread from my chest until I swear I felt it in every inch of my body, right down into my blood and bones, both comforting and uncomfortable at the same time, but also deeply addictive.

My hands rose, reaching for Bellamy, drawing his body down to mine. His chest crushed against my breasts as my legs spread and invited him between.