Change of Heart (Fostering Love 2)

“You couldn’t have said that before, instead of completely freezing up and acting like a pussy?” I yelled back, crossing my arms over my chest. God, I was freezing, and my wet hair was dripping down my back.

“I’m the one acting like a pussy?”

“I just wanted to know what we were doing! I wasn’t angling for a fucking marriage proposal.”

“Good,” he replied flatly, bracing his hands on his hips. “That’s never going to happen.”

I didn’t want to marry Abraham. Not even a little bit. But the way he said those words, so matter-of-fact and emotionless, felt like a punch to the gut.

“Right,” I murmured, looking away from him.

“I’m not marrying anyone. Ever,” he said, his voice softer than it was before.

“Not my business,” I said cheerfully, pulling myself back together as quickly as I could. I liked fighting with Bram. I actually enjoyed pissing him off. But our conversation was hitting topics a little too serious for my taste, and I just wanted it to be over.

“Shit, you’re freezing. Come here,” he called, grabbing a shirt from his dresser.

“I’m fine,” I replied, taking a few steps forward.

“Here, put this on.” He started to pull one of his flannel shirts over my shoulders, then stopped and cursed. “You’re soaking wet.”

I stood there motionless as he pulled my tank top back over my head and used the towel hanging over his shoulder to dry my hair and back. When he was finished, he put the flannel back on me, his hands sweet and gentle as he pushed my arms into the sleeves and buttoned two buttons on the front of the shirt.

“Better?” he asked, tossing the towel toward the bathroom door.

I nodded.

I was afraid, if I spoke, that my voice would come out weird. He was so fucking confusing. He could make me feel like complete shit in one minute, then take care of me like I was a baby the next. He didn’t want me for more than sex, but was concerned when I was feeling chilly.

“Stay the night?” he asked, cupping my face and lifting it toward his.

“Fine,” I grumbled, making him laugh.

He pulled me back into bed, avoiding the wet spot as he pulled my underwear back down my legs. I expected him to pull the flannel off, too, but as soon as he’d thrown my underwear off the edge of the bed, he was rolling me to my side and crowding in behind me.

Spooning. He was spooning me.

Then his hand slid down my hip, pushing his flannel out of the way so he could press his fingers between my legs. I whimpered when his fingers moved over my clit and tried to widen my legs, but one of his legs moved to trap mine together.

“No, don’t move,” he said quietly, his mouth near my ear. “You’re tired, I’m tired.”

His fingers played while I lay there stuck, and after a few seconds, one slipped inside me, making my hips jerk. He pulled out slowly then pushed in again, before his hand completely stopped moving.

“Sleep,” he murmured, using the hand curled up near his head to press my hair away from my face.

“I can’t sleep with you inside me,” I argued, tightening the muscles around his finger.

“Sure you can.”

“No, I really can’t.”

“Then I guess you won’t sleep,” he said teasingly, gently squeezing his hand cupping my pussy. “Just relax, baby.”

He called me baby. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax but it wasn’t happening. I was getting wetter by the second, and it took everything I had not to move my hips against his hand. I breathed deep, clenching my hands in front of me as Bram’s body grew heavier behind me.

When I realized he was falling asleep, I made myself ignore the finger still inside me. If I could wait just a few minutes without moving, I could crawl away once he was finally passed out. Finally, when his breathing grew deep and even, I braced myself to move.

And that’s when his finger began thrusting again. In and out.

Then another finger. He curled them forward as he jerked his hand up, and my back arched involuntarily, a small sound bursting out of my throat.

“You fucking sneak,” I breathed as he did it again.

I felt a light kiss on my ear as Bram pulled his fingers from me, then he was sliding into me from behind in one long push.

“You really thought I could leave my fingers in you and sleep?” he asked in amusement, thrusting slowly. “While you were dripping down my hand?”

“Yes,” I hissed, reaching back to grip his hip. “And it was one finger.”

He chuckled and grabbed my hand at his hip, pushing it forward until he’d trapped it against the sheets in front of us. “Slow,” he murmured.

I could barely move, and as much as I wanted to fight him on it, I couldn’t deny that I really liked having him control the way our bodies moved together. He’d get me there if I was patient.