His hardness presses between my legs as I straddle him, and his grip moves to my hips, pressing me down so I can feel more of him. The want in his eyes is undeniable, like a wild animal seconds from his feast.
He begins to say something when I place my palms on his chest and sit up.
“I don’t want to do it here, like this,” I say. “Not in Adri’s dad’s car. Not in a garage. Not when I taste like beer and someone could walk in on us at any second.”
This isn’t remotely how I want my first time to be.
August exhales, angling his head. “So, you want … what? A hotel room? Champagne? Flowers? Some fake romantic shit to make it special?”
“I don’t want fake romantic shit. I just don’t want to do it here.”
I’ve successfully killed the mood—but I don’t suppose it matters since this isn’t happening tonight anyway. He can kiss his deadline goodbye. I need more time to decide if I’m going to do this anyway.
I climb off of him and into the driver’s seat. He adjusts the bulge in his jeans.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Of course you are.” He’s annoyed at me, and I get it. I got his hopes up. Any hot-blooded male would be disappointed right now.
I lean against the back of the seat, head resting on my hand. “Look. This past week has been one of the most emotionally draining weeks of my life. I’ve slept maybe a total of eleven hours, if that. And your offer is extremely generous. I’m tempted, yes. I just don’t want to jump into anything crazy right now. I want to think about it a little more. I need more time.”
He says nothing, simply stares at me with an expression I couldn’t possibly try to read.
“I’m going to head in.” I sit up and reach for the door handle, no longer willing to bask in the awkwardness of this moment.
“Wait.”
I turn back to him. “Yeah?”
“You’re staying here tonight, right?”
I nod.
“You’re not going to get any sleep in there. It’s too fucking loud.” Slipping his hand softly around my wrist, he guides me closer, until I’m nestled under his arm, my cheek against his chest.
It’s strange at first—falling asleep in someone’s arms.
But then we settle into some kind of rhythm, our breaths syncing and our bodies giving off just enough warmth to keep us comfortable. Outside, the evening crickets chirp and faint pop music plays from the house, leaking through old windows and getting lost in the cooling night breeze.
Within seconds, my eyelids grow heavy and the night fades away as I drift off in the arms of my enemy dearest.
Chapter Fifteen
August
* * *
“You stayed,” she says the next morning with a sleepy smile. She sits up, stretching her arms overhead, and I move for the first time in fucking hours.
I watched her sleep—all night, studying the way her mouth twitched into half a smirk when she was dreaming, inhaling the sugar-sweet scent of her shampoo as it radiated off the top of her warm head. And as the sun came up and flooded the tiny garage with warm light, she looked like a goddamn Disney princess. If she wasn’t a Rose, I might have allowed myself to feel some kind of way …
I huff. “You think I’d leave you passed out in some garage?”
If she were anyone else, then yes. Yes, I would do that. One hundred fucking percent.
But I’m so fucking close to sealing this deal.
“How’d you sleep?” I ask. If I’m being honest with myself, there’s something sexy about this undone version of her, with her hair in her face and her makeup rubbed off (on my shirt), all fresh-faced. I’m not used to seeing girls like this—sans perfection. It’s refreshing.
“Like a million bucks actually. Best sleep I’ve had in forever …”
Just imagine how she would’ve slept after the triple orgasm I was going to give her … fingers, tongue, and cock—my personal forte.
Ah, well. Soon enough.
“Oh, geez.” She yanks her phone from her back pocket. “Adri was texting me all night. I forgot to tell her we were out here.” Climbing out of the car, she says, “I should head in and talk to her—assuming she’s up.”
“You have my number.”
Fighting the tiniest flicker of a smile, she stops in her tracks by the door and says, “I do.”
I re-cover the car, show myself out, and drive home.
Sheridan Rose is a sweet girl. Trusting. Naïve. And she doesn’t deserve any of this. In fact, all of this would be a million times easier if she were some snooty little priss who needed the attitude fucked out of her. Instead, she’s a walking, talking heart of gold with perfect C-tits and honest intentions.
Steeling myself, I roll down my window, crank my music, and drown out the conscientiousness who decided to make a surprise appearance out of fucking nowhere. I can’t get soft about this. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity and I’m seizing the fuck out of it.