Trapped (Caged 2)

I growled and leapt at her, knocking her backwards onto the bed and pressing my lips to her shoulder. The towel went flying off her head and onto the floor.

“Don’t you toy with me, Demetria.” I snarled into her ear. Strands of wet hair stuck to my forehead. “I’ve had all the frustration I can take.”

She struggled and laughed as I tickled her sides and maneuvered us both up to the top of the bed. She leaned back against the pillows and tried to catch her breath, while I made it more difficult by waiting until she had pretty much calmed completely before tickling her side or stomach again.

“You going to confess now?” I asked as I finally released her.

“I do recall a certain deal,” she admitted.

“And?”

“And you did live up to your end of it,” she agreed, though her eyes seemed a bit apprehensive. I rubbed my hands together and licked my lips obscenely, making her laugh again. That seemed to make her relax a bit, so I leaned over closer to her.

“Time to pay the piper,” I whispered in her ear.

I slipped my hand around her chin, and I brought her lips to mine. It felt like it had been forever since I kissed her like this—just the two of us with no one about to walk in and no rushing off somewhere else. Her taste and her scent were just as I remembered them, but something else was different.

She was tense and rigid, and I didn’t understand why.

Instead of wrapping her arms around my head and playing with my hair like she usually did, her hands lay loosely on my shoulders, not gripping me at all. She opened her mouth, but her tongue didn’t move with mine.

So what had changed?

Only one thing, really—the promise of boobie-gropage.

Promise or not, she wasn’t ready for that shit yet, so I slowed, kissed a light trail down the edge of her jaw, and then lay back down on the bed. My arms went around her, and I pulled her down with me. She was still stiff, so I just held her and ran my hands over her damp hair.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just tired.”

I kissed the top of her head.

“It was a long ride here,” I said, “and we still have a decent ways to go tomorrow. Do you think we could leave early? I mean, it would be good to get back home, right?”

“Yeah…” Tria’s voice trailed off a bit, and I knew I had cooled off too much.

I moved my hand around to her cheek and turned her to face me. I kissed her again, harder and with more passion. I ran my hand down her bare arm and then back up again. I pulled back, kissed her lightly once more on her lips, and smiled up at her.

“I’m going to have to take a rain check for later,” I said. “I think I just want to be home with you.”

“You do?” Tria looked at me quizzically for a moment.

“Yes,” I said. “You’re going to unpack the rest of your shit when we get there, right?”

“I will,” she promised. “It will be nice to get back to the routine again, I think. I have had enough excitement to last me a while.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“Oh crap!” Tria exclaimed suddenly.

“What?”

“You should have worked last night,” Tria said. “Shit, I’ve been so wrapped up in everything else going on—”

“Nah,” I said. “Not after stitches in my head. Yolanda always makes me skip the next fight when something like that happens. It’s stupid, but she does. I won’t fight again until Friday.”

“Oh, good.” She sighed in relief. “I was afraid Yolanda was going to come hunt me down again. I’ve been trying to make you more vegetables and such lately.”