“Do you have any water?” I ask, my throat so raw I want to claw at it.
“Yes, wait here.” She kisses my cheek and slips out of bed, pulling her nightshirt over her head. I watch her walk away, listening to her fumble around in the kitchen. The motor on her ice machine rattles as it spits out the cubes into a glass.
Clink. Clink.
I ram my eyes shut. That sound is too similar to empty bullet shells hitting the concrete floor. Get it together, asshole. Get it together now.
Tess hurries back in. She hands me a glass and takes a seat beside me, her fingertips stroking lightly against my back. She waits for me to down every last drop before she speaks. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just a nightmare—that’s all.”
She hesitates, as if trying not to upset me. “Involving your line of work?”
My sight adjusts enough to catch the worry in her face. I keep my expression neutral as I mull over what to say. My first instinct is to lie. The thing is, I’m not sure what I said or did in my sleep. For all I know, I could have told her more than I wanted her to hear.
“It’s a tough gig,” I admit.
She nods carefully and reaches for the empty glass. “Do you want some more water?”
Water is the last thing I want. It was cold like the room, and only added to the sub-zero temperature shoving its way through my bloodstream. I take a strand of her hair and run it through my fingers. It’s soft, like the rest of her. Maybe she’s what I need, then. “I’m good,” I tell her.
“I don’t think you are.” She lifts her hand and strokes the side of my temple. “I want to help you, but I’m not sure how.”
She’d put her glasses back on, the tiny square ones. I didn’t notice her do that before she went into the kitchen, but I notice them now. They’re sexy on her. Hell, everything’s sexy on her. But considering what I plan to do, they’ll only get in my way.
I pinch the stems on the sides and carefully lift the glasses off her face. Tess watches me fold them and place them on her nightstand before pegging me with an inviting look that begs me to touch her.
So I do.
I haul her to me, flipping her onto her back and taking her mouth like I own it. She squealed with surprise when I grabbed her, but those squeaks turn to whimpers when I shove my hand under her shirt and find her nipples.
A few tugs, that’s all it takes to tighten her already stiff nipples into fine points. Her moans against my mouth deepen, sounding pained, but I know better. My tongue works hers and my hand pays close attention to her breasts. I need her to be louder. Loud makes me hard, loud makes me forget, forget everything but her.
My fingers clamp down, causing her breath to hitch. She barely hangs on to our kiss.
You want me, don’t you, angel face?
I repeat the motion on the other side, inciting a small cry.
Yeah…I want you, too.
I don’t know what time it is. Don’t care, either. All I know is that I’m not done playing. I run my hand down her soft belly, feeling the muscles tense against my palm the lower I go. She knows what’s coming. Her back arches when my fingers linger over that sweet spot my tongue had licked like candy.
My turns are slow at first; I don’t want to hurt her. But as the mild dryness fades and her folds grow slicker, my movements become faster.
She pushes up on her arm, reaching for me, her cries barely allowing our kiss to continue. I jolt when she takes hold of me. Damn, I’m so hard and so ready to ram into her, but then I remember she’s not on the Pill.
I grunt, from frustration and from how fast she’s working me. Yeah, no way are we done here.