Stripped Down (24 page)

“I don’t mind ordering. You’ve had a long day with CiCi.”

Not as long as it usually was when she was sick.

“Okay, then. Sure,” I said. “What were you thinking?”

“Pizza. Then she can have it for breakfast tomorrow if she’s not sick again.”

I took a deep breath in through my nose. He was always thinking about her. I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Sure.” I peered at him out of the corners of my eyes. “I need to dry my hair, so...”

He nodded once, the jerky movement as tight as his posture, and he finally released the door handle. His knuckles were white even as he shoved his hand in his pocket. “I’ll go order.”

“Okay.”

He turned through the door, my eyes on him the entire time, and I snatched the hairdryer up from the dresser’s top. I almost knocked the lamp over again as the wire caught around it, but I managed to catch it in time and keep it from banging again.

My hand trembled as I switched the dryer on and turned the hot air on my hair. The memory of his hot gaze burned into my skin as I stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were sparkling, my cheeks were flushed, and my lips were permanently parted as I took several deep breaths in an effort to keep myself together.

It was getting harder and harder to keep control of myself around him. I was so afraid that, one day soon, it would be an impossibility.

I didn’t understand how we’d gone from getting the marriage over as quickly as possible to spending so much time together. How I’d so quickly changed from needing him far away from me to wanting him not even beside me but, rather, inside me.

Try as I might, I couldn’t convince myself that it was all because of Ciara. The way he was with her was definitely several pluses for him, but mostly, it was me.

The way he made me feel so alive when he looked at me. The way he could brighten my mood with a stupid joke or his smile. The way his touch made me feel so many things that I couldn’t even imagine beginning to describe them.

The way he was.

The large heart and the golden soul beneath the sexiness.

It made him so much hotter and irresistible.

I finished doing my hair and rubbed my hand down my face. I had to scrub those feelings from my mind. I had to... I had to do a whole damn lotta things I probably wouldn’t, so I had no idea why I was telling myself to do it.

In conclusion, I was a fucking mentally whiplashed fool who needed to shut the hell up and go downstairs before I thought myself into the eye of a storm and fucked myself instead of potentially the hot guy downstairs.

Yes.

That seemed like a better plan.

I stretched my fingers as I walked downstairs. I didn’t know why. I just needed to do something with my hands. It made them feel oddly good as my feet hit the floor of the hallway and I stopped.

What was I doing?

I needed help. I needed help quick.

I darted into my kitchen and grabbed my phone from the windowsill. I pulled up Mia’s name on the menu and hit send message.

Me:
Do you have a minute?

Mia:
Yup. What’s up?

Me:
Beck’s in my house and just ordered pizza. What do I do???

Jesus, I was so lame.

Mia:
Wear matching underwear and find a condom.

Me:
I was afraid you were going to say that.

Mia:
Why are you so worried? He’s an ass, but you know he’s a good guy.

Me:
That’s the problem. What if the ass cancels out the good guy?

Mia:
I guess it depends if he’s naked when it happens or not. (And it’s a pretty good ass.)

Yeah... That was an understatement. He had the kind of perky, tight ass women wanted.

Me:
I need to relax, don’t I?

Mia:
Honey, yes. Now, go screw that man.

She really didn’t have a filter. Maybe I needed to kill my own mental filter.

“What are you doing?”

“Asking Mia whether or not I should fuck you tonight.”

He laughed.

I clapped my hand over my mouth. I guessed I’d just killed the filter. Crap. “I mean... Shit. I can’t take that back, can I?”

Beck slowly shook his head, pinning me with his gaze. “And what did Mia say?”

“She told me to put on matching underwear, find a condom, and go screw you.”

“She has sound advice.” He laughed again as he walked toward me, killing the distance between us. His gaze still hovered on mine, still dangerously dark and delicious, and he hooked one finger in the neckline of my shirt. “In the spirit of her good advice, I already know what panties you’re wearing, so...” He pulled my shirt down, exposing my cleavage, and trailed the tip of his pinkie finger along the curve of my bra cup. “You’ve got the matching underwear.”

“Easy to do when most of your underwear is black,” I said in a breathy tone, like I was rushing the words out.

His lips tugged up on one side. “Sure. That’s why it’s black.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled a small, foil square out, which made my breath catch. “And I’ve got the condom.”

I licked my lips. Two out of three.

Beck grabbed the edge of the counter on either side of me and boxed me in. His breath skittered across my lips as he touched his nose to mine. Then he quickly leaned in and touched his lips to my earlobe. “And I bet, if I put it on, ripped off those shorts, and sank my cock into you, you’d be ready for me.”

“You think wrong.” My argument was weak at best. If he said anything else like that, there was a good chance he’d in fact be right.

“Really.” Not a question. Just a flat, amused statement. “So, if I pulled off your shirt and undid your bra, your nipples wouldn’t be hard, right, Blondie? Your heart wouldn’t be going crazy, would it? And, if I slipped my fingers between your legs, your clit wouldn’t be swollen and ready for me?”

A shiver of bravado snaked down my spine. I looped my fingers through the belt hoops on his jeans and yanked his hips against mine. His cock was hard, and I felt every long inch of it as it pressed against my hip.

“You ask too many questions for a man who thinks he knows an awful lot. What’s the matter, Beck? Afraid I’m not wet?”

One low chuckle escaped his lips, making me shiver. “God, it’s really fucking sexy when you turn on the sass like that, you know that? But we both know you just wanted to feel my cock against you, didn’t you?”

I can’t, can I?

Screw it.

I can.

I unpopped the button on his jeans and pushed my hand inside his pants—and his boxers. My fingers instantly brushed the head of his cock, and his entire body jerked as I wrapped my fingers around his hard length. I kept my gaze on his as I did it, and his jaw tightened with every touch I made.

He gripped my chin, bringing my face to his. His stare was so intense that it was a borderline glare, and lust flashed in the indigo depths of it as my hand moved up and down his erection without freeing it entirely from his clothes.

“What was that you said about me turning on the sass?” I breathed.

“Grabbing my cock isn’t turning on the sass, Blondie. It’s an invitation for me to wonder how much longer I’m gonna have to wait for you to get on your knees and wrap your lips around it.”

“You’re obsessed with putting your cock in my mouth.”

“No. I’m obsessed with you putting my cock in your mouth. Big difference. Now, are you gonna do it without complaint, or do I have to tell you?”

I raised an eyebrow and lightly squeezed him.

Red-hot desire swam in his eyes, and he dragged my hand out of his pants. He pinned both of mine at the base of my back and pulled my hips against his, cupping the side of my neck. His thumb traced the underside of my jaw and brushed over my pulse point. My lips parted as I breathed in sharply.

“Cassie,” he rasped, his lips ghosting over mine as he spoke. “Get on your knees and suck my fucking cock until your cunt is begging for me.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“That depends if you want to come tonight or not.”

Bastard.

Mother. Fucking.
Bastard.

Still...

I pushed him away and dropped to my knees. If he wanted to play this game, we could. If having sex with him was the way to avoid thinking about things deeper than that, then maybe giving in to this crazy, insane chemistry again was the right thing to do.

I pulled his jeans and his boxers down, fully freeing his cock. His eyes burned a hole in the top of my head as I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock and then paused to look up at him. His gaze was a cross between anticipation, expectation, and barely restrained desire. I didn’t know if it was because he wanted to fuck me or wanted to grab the back of my head and have me finally do what he wanted, but either way, it made me clench my thighs together.

I touched my tongue to the tip of his cock, and then I slowly wrapped my lips around him and took him into my mouth. It took a moment until I could take more than a couple of inches, and I couldn’t look at him anymore, but I didn’t need to to know that, for once, I had complete power in our messed-up relationship.

A small groan escaped his lips as he gripped the edge of the counter. My hand and my mouth worked together in perfect unison on his cock. He was obviously fighting the urge to grasp my hair and hold my head still so he could fuck my mouth, and honestly, it might have been wrong, but I loved it.

I loved the way I was making him feel.

He felt like he was losing control with each harsh breath, each restrained thrust of his hips, each hard throb of his cock against my tongue. I wanted him to do that. I wanted him to lose control.

For a moment, one single moment, I wanted him to feel as lost and confused and crazy as I did.

I was so sure I could do it, until five loud knocks sounded at the front door, cutting through the air and breaking my concentration.

Food.

Beck groaned, but this time, it wasn’t from pleasure.

I grinned and stood, wiping my hand across my mouth. He looked murderous, like he wanted to grab the nearest heavy object and go beat the delivery person with it for having interrupted us. He muttered beneath his breath, swearing vehemently as I pranced toward the door, ignoring my own arousal, and answered it. Beck’s annoyance followed me through the air as I took the two pizza boxes and walked into the front room.

Amazing. By being on my knees, I could bring a man to his.

I set the pizza on the coffee table and jumped onto the sofa, crossing my legs beneath me. By the time Beck joined me with his cock straining against his jeans, I’d already opened my box and was taking a bite out of one slice. I couldn’t help the way my lips curved into a smile as he shot me a dark look and sat next to me.

“I can’t fucking believe that just happened.”

“You ordered the food and insisted I suck your dick right there, right then. You’ve only got yourself to blame.” I licked sauce from my hand.

“Please don’t lick your hand like that. I’m uncomfortable enough as it is.” He adjusted his pants over his erection and pulled his box toward him. “You should have reminded me I’d ordered food.”

“You did it, like, twenty minutes before.”

“Don’t blame me if you make me lose my mind.”

I stopped. “I make you lose your mind?”

He turned to me, his indigo eyes finding mine. “Cassie, I lost my mind the moment I married you. I don’t think I’ve found it since, and if I have, I doubt it’s full of anything but you.”

I dropped my eyes and picked a bit of pepperoni off my slice. I nibbled the edge of it as those words swirled in my mind. There was something to be said for finding out he felt the same as I did, and that was: Holy shit. He must have stopped looking at me, because I no longer felt the intense and unwavering scrutiny of his gaze on me.

The TV hummed lightly in the background, making the silence between us a little more bearable. Honestly, I didn’t know how to reply to that. I did know that my heart was beating a little too quickly to be comfortable.

I wasn’t hungry anymore. I took one last, pathetic bite of the pizza and put it down. A quick glance at Beck said he’d done the same, so I closed my box down with a slow exhale.

He didn’t speak.

I leaned back against the sofa. What did I expect him to say? He’d just said something. It was my job to reply, but I didn’t have any words. At least, it sure felt that way. So we sat in silence. I stared blankly at the TV, desperate to keep my attention off him. I had no idea what I was watching. It was so quiet, but it was easier to focus on it than what he’d just said.

He’d voiced what I’d been so afraid to accept.

That I’d lost my mind the moment I’d married him.

That it hadn’t come back since, and if it had, it was utterly consumed by him.

The room felt too small. There wasn’t enough air, and my stomach clenched painfully as my lungs burned. I swept my legs off the sofa and pushed myself up. I quickly walked from the room, barely stopping myself from running, and went right through the house and to the back door, which I unlocked and yanked open.

It wasn’t fresh out there. The hot, dry air was hard to bear, but it was easier than inside, so I wasn’t sure what that said about the environment of my front room with him there.

I was running. Running from reality.

But I was a fool, because you can’t run from reality. Even if you drowned yourself in make-believe, reality would always find you and drag you from it like a merciless bitch.

Except this reality...It was of my own making. My own fears and apprehensions. My own reluctance. My own inability to be honest with how I truly felt.

“Cassie,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Fuck you, Cassie. Grow a pair, you absolute chickenshit.

“Said what? How you feel?” I turned and wrapped my arms around my waist. A welcome, cool breeze ruffled the bushes at the end of my garden and whipped around my bare legs. “Why should you be sorry for that? You have every right to say how you feel. I’m the one who has issues here, Beck. Not you.”