Chapter Forty-One
Chaser
“Fuck, I’m tired.” I flop down on the couch, kick off my boots, stretch out, and close my eyes.
Warmth from Mallory’s body grazes my arm. Without opening my eyes, I reach out and wrap my hand around her thigh, pulling her closer. The air between us still radiates with tension, but after a few seconds, she moves closer and runs her fingers through my hair.
I crack open one eye. “How’s my girl?”
“Exhausted.”
“Take a nap with me.”
She waves her hand over my body. “Where? You cover the entire couch.”
My mouth twists into a half-smile. “That’s the point, baby. Lay your sweet body over mine.”
She snorts and backs out of my grasp. “I’m going to change.”
Damn, we’ve made a lot of progress over the last few days, but we still have these awkward moments.
Visions of her naked body drag my tired ass off the couch.
I trudge up the stairs to our room. My gaze immediately strays to the bed.
Fuck, all I want to do is sleep.
I slap my face a few times to wake myself up, and Mallory cocks her head. “You okay?”
“Tired. I’m still so fucking tired all the time.”
“Your body’s going through a lot.”
Yeah, yeah. I’m sick of making excuses for all my dysfunctions.
Haven’t made love to my girl since the disastrous limp-dick incident back in L.A. Don’t think I can stand the humiliation of letting her down again.
No joke, now that I have the rest of my body under control, I’m straight-up worried my dick will never function right again. Figures I’d finally find the one girl I want to stick it in for the rest of my life, then promptly snort enough coke to put my dick in a coma.
I haven’t had a line in long enough that I feel hopeful for the first time.
My head’s finally clearer, but now I’m tired all the time.
Not too tired to notice how hot Mallory looks in her cute little denim cut-offs, though.
In my free moments, I’ve been practicing whacking off. Everything still functions.
Huge relief.
Mallory can’t sit still. I don’t know if she’s nervous, unsure, mad at me, or bored. But she’s all over the place.
Instead of changing clothes, she shakes out a fresh set of sheets to make the bed.
“Can you help me?” she asks, pointing to the opposite corner.
“Yeah, sure.”
Aw, Christ, when she bends over to smooth the sheets down, I get a straight shot down her cleavage. Miss those plump tits filling my hands.
“Mallory?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s time for the next phase of my recovery.”
Her head snaps up at my grave tone. “What do you mean?”
Without taking my eyes off her, I stalk around to the other side of the bed and grab her by the hips. “Sexual healing.”
A shaky smile plays over her lips. We’ve never really talked about the limp-noodle fiasco. I think she wanted to spare my manhood the embarrassment of discussing it.
“Yeah?” She slowly lifts her gaze to mine. So hesitant. Maybe it wasn’t my ego she was trying to save. Maybe the whole episode made her doubt herself.
And that’s totally unacceptable.
“Miss these sweet curves under me,” I whisper. “And over me. In front of me.”
Soft laughter falls from her lips. “Miss your hardness all over me.” She reaches down to rub my cock, and I shift away.
“Not yet, little dove. This is all about you right now.” Has to be. The limp-dick episode will not be repeated. “Need to see you come a couple times first.”
She blinks up at me. “A couple, huh?”
My way of apologizing for being an asshole, for letting her down, and for lying to her. Or a way to say thank you for sticking by my side. Maybe all of the above. I can’t wait to taste her, touch her, and fuck her again.
I strip down to my underwear, get in the bed, put my back against the headboard and stretch out my legs. “Undress for me.”
She immediately starts working the buttons of her shorts loose.
“No, nice and slow.”
Her mouth falls open. Maybe to protest, but her nipples are poking against her top, negating any complaints.
“Come on, little dove. Show me what I’ve been missing.”
She works her T-shirt over her head, and I let out a low whistle at the bubble-gum pink lace bra underneath. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”
A pretty flush races over her skin from chest to cheeks. It might seem like I said this was all about her and then asked her to do a strip tease for me, but I’m trying to show her she’s got my full, undivided attention, and that I think she’s the sexiest damn woman on the planet.
Plus, I can tell it turns her on.
“Work those shorts over your curvy hips for me. Show me your ass.”
She turns and eases them down so slow, I’m hyperventilating by the time I get a glimpse of ass cheek—also covered in sexy see-through pink lace.