He watched the whole show, his face changed, looking somehow hungry, and the look sent a shiver through me.
His other hand came up the shirt, it was whisked over my head and then it was gone.
His mouth was on mine, then it traveled lower, until his lips locked around my nipple. My hands went into his hair, holding his head while he used tongue, teeth and suction until I couldn’t stand it and I moaned.
He came back over me, his mouth on mine and I was kissing him with everything I had when his hand cupped me between my legs, over my panties, his fingers pressing in.
His head came up barely an inch.
“Christ, Cari?a, you’re already ready for me.” His voice was hoarse and sounded approving.
Regardless, at his words, I froze. Then I moved my hand down to circle his wrist and pul ed it away.
“No,” I said.
I mean, it was too humiliating.
In the throes of delicious sexual activity, I could forget.
I could forget that I was Just Jet and there would be a time when he’d realize that, when Damsel in Distress Jet was saved and there was nothing interesting about her anymore. I could forget that he was Hot Handsome Eddie and it’d never last because he’d eventual y realize he was out of my league. I could forget knowing that other people would look at us and think, “What is he doing with her?” I could forget for a moment. But the truth was al that was there.
He was with a gorgeous blonde just two months ago.
I hadn’t had an orgasm in eight months and hadn’t slept with anyone since Oscar.
He was the most popular boy at school, and I was the girl with glasses, braces and a funny wardrobe.
It just wasn’t ever going to work.
His hand twisted, dislodging mine from his wrist and his fingers laced in mine.
“Un-unh, Jet. You can’t switch off on me just like that,” he said and looked at me closely.
“I have to go to work,” I told him.
“Talk to me,” he returned.
With my other hand I pushed at his shoulder, using my body to push at him too.
He didn’t budge.
We were ful -frontal, skin-to-skin, it felt good and, al of a sudden, I wanted to cry.
“I have to go,” I said, a little desperately.
He lifted my hand and held it between our bodies.
“Talk to me,” he repeated, quietly this time.
I glared at him.
“I have to go,” I repeated, a lot louder this time.
He lifted our hands up to his mouth and touched his lips to them, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he held them to his chest and I had to remind myself to breathe.
“Did someone hurt you?” He asked softly, his eyes had gone funny, gentle and something else, something I couldn’t read.
I blinked, confused.
“Pardon?” I asked.
“Hurt you, touched you in a way you didn’t want?” he explained I blinked again, then my breath caught in my throat.
“Do you mean rape?”
He didn’t answer, he just looked at me.
“Why would you think that?” I asked.
“One second you’re running hot, the next, ice cold and near tears. It would certainly explain why you’re so guarded.
Cari?a, I’d like to understand,” he said it like he meant it and that pleasant feeling hit me again but this time it was so powerful, it knocked the wind out of me.
“I haven’t been raped,” I spoke quietly.
“You’d tel me?” he asked.
“I’d tel you, I answered.
I didn’t realize how tense his body was until I answered I didn’t realize how tense his body was until I answered him and he relaxed against me.
“Then tel me what it is,” he said.
“It wasn’t that,” I replied.
“Then what is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Jet.”
“Real y, Eddie, it’s nothing.”
His brows came together when it dawned on him I wasn’t a wounded soul but instead, just an idiot.
“It’s not nothing. If it was nothing, right now, instead of talkin’, we’d be in about the same position but your legs would be wrapped around my back. It’s something.” My stomach curled.
I ignored it.
“It’s nothing.”
“Goddamit, Jet,” he said through clenched teeth, losing patience.
“Eddie, I have to go to work.”
“No, you have to talk to me. You don’t talk to me, I’m cuffin’ you to the bed until you do talk to me.” I stared at him.
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Fuckin’ try me.”
Oh… dear… Lord.
I stared at him again trying to figure out if he would do it.
The look on his face said he would.
“Get off!” I bucked against him, to no avail.
“Talk!” he snapped.
“I haven’t had an orgasm in eight months! Okay?” I
“I haven’t had an orgasm in eight months! Okay?” I yel ed, “Now get off!”
Yeesh.
The lengths a girl had to go to were ridiculous and embarrassing.
He stared at me.
“You’re joking,” he said.
“Would I joke about something like that?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” I gave him a look.
He grinned.
“It isn’t funny,” I snapped, feeling immensely stupid.
“No, you’re right, it isn’t. I’m just glad there’s final y a problem of yours I can fix.”