Overwhelmed by You (Tear Asunder 2)

Her hands came down on my shoulders, fingers sinking into my skin.

I stiffened. “Hands off.”

Her eyelids flew open. “What’s wrong?”

Her hands caressed my skin and the voices moved in like a thick black smog ready to blanket me and destroy this. “Don’t. Touch.” I pulled back, ready to leave when she slowly moved her hands away and grabbed the headboard again. “Ream?”

Christ, I loved how she said my name. It was like her tone lowered and the sound vibrated from her chest. I sighed feeling the tension leave my body. “Yeah, baby?”

“Ream … fuck me.”

And that I could do. “I plan on it.”

I stroked my finger over her shaved mound, wishing I could taste her again, but knowing it wasn’t the time. Instead, I slipped my cock into the dampness between her thighs.

“Christ, you’re wet.”

She smiled and her tongue rolled over her upper lip. “Hmm. All for you. Now put it inside me.”

I lifted her up by the hips, slid my hands beneath her ass, then drove all the way in hard and fast.

I pushed the paint roller up and down the wall, the rhythmic sound of the thrum back and forth. I hated painting, worse was painting in a farmhouse without any air-conditioning in the middle of summer. I glanced over at Kat, who was standing on the ladder, painting the trim around the window, well, she was supposed to be painting it. Instead I found her staring at me, her hand frozen in place, bristles of the brush squished against the window pane leaving a big yellow splotch.

It was cute. Shit, Kat was cute. Not in looks, no she’d be classified as regal, not cute. But her personality was cute. She had this honesty about her, not caring that she walked around with no make-up or was covered in dirt. Although, the night I met her at Avalanche she’d been dressed to the nines, looking sexy as hell with her flirty short dress, sassy smoky eyes, and full red lips.

When she moved to the farm, I’d come by to check in on her because … well damn, her best friend was missing and her life had been uprooted by the lead singer of my band. I owed it to Logan to help out, but it became way more than that. I ended up staying to help out, not for Logan, but for Kat.

She was so determined and unruffled by what was happening. Damn, the girl even slipped under the tractor to do an oil change. She had no idea what she was doing, and it ended up me crawling beneath the filthy machine and showing her. I knew nothing about tractors, but I did know about cars and even though it was cute seeing Kat covered in streaks of grease, I didn’t like the thought of her getting hurt. It was a strange feeling since I’d never cared about a chick in my life.

I tossed my roller in the tray, strode over to her, and then yanked my shirt hanging from my back pocket and used it to wipe the paint splotch off the window. She was still staring at me, but it wasn’t at my naked chest, it was directly at my face as if she was seeing something she’d never seen before. I didn’t know what the fuck it was about that moment, but shit changed.

I helped her off the ladder with one arm around her thighs, plucked her paint brush from her hand and dropped it onto the plastic sheet covering on the floor.

“Let’s eat. I’m cooking.” I took her hand and guided her downstairs to the kitchen. I sat her on a bar stool then started taking stuff out of the fridge and cupboards.

“I’ll help.” She was half-way to her feet when I glanced up at her while taking the chicken out of the packaging. I was getting that Kat was hands on; she wasn’t some chick waiting for a guy to wait on her or be her protector. The thing was I was crazy protective of anyone I cared about.

Losing her had done that to me. I wouldn’t risk that ever happening again, so I kept chicks at a distance—until Kat.

“Sit,” I ordered. And I had an issue with getting my own way, probably because I lacked it as a kid and now I overcompensated. Not probably—it was.

Kat and I had an ease between us, we were good together, we clicked. I wanted to spend time with her, to see her smile, hear her laugh … fuck what was I thinking? I’d never do a relationship. I couldn’t even have sex with the same chick twice. And when I did have sex, the entire time I just wanted it to be over. Could the feelings be different with Kat? No. There was too much bullshit with my past.

Kat grabbed the cutting board from beside the microwave and put it on the counter beside where I was basting the chicken and then washed her hands, grabbed the veggies, and started chopping. I should’ve known she’d ignore me and maybe that’s what I needed. A chick that could stand against my bullshit.

She softly started humming a Maroon 5 song and something swelled in me. And it wasn’t between my legs. It was where I never expected, in my chest … and shit it was fuckin’ nice.

Bang.

I jolted awake at the sound of a door shutting. I turned over expecting to find the silky warmth of the body I’d just fucked for the last forty-eight hours and found nothing. I sat up then rubbed my hand over my head, thinking I’d drag her to the shower where I could have her again before breakfast. She certainly wasn’t objecting to my tastes, so there was no harm in keeping her a while longer. Shit, the voices had only happened that once when I let her go down on me.

Instead, I saw her pulling on her jeans. “What the fuck? Where are you going?”

“I have plans.” She pulled her shirt over her head then picked up her purse.