Page 39 of Too Hostile
Jesus fucking Christ.
I’m going to start beating my chest and chanting “mine” soon.
This is absolutely ridiculous. And I couldn’t keep my hands off him last night. We wound up in a mess of sweat and cum, collapsed on his bed before I convinced him to come and shower with me. Making another mess as we ground our cocks together until we were both crying out with yet another release.
We wound back up in his bed, but when I woke up to disturbing thoughts of him and stupid Josh in the middle of the night, I wound up waking him up too. My mouth on him brought him to his third orgasm of the night before we passed the hell out.
I had some work to do today, so I reluctantly pried myself away from him this morning. But he’s coming over to my place this evening, and my heart is racing with the anticipation of seeing him as I prepare dinner for us.
I don’t know what the hell is happening to me.
But it doesn’t stop me from practically racing to the door as soon as I hear the doorbell ring and flinging it open. Fletcher’s warm smile greets me, and I yank him inside, barely managing to get the door closed before my mouth is on his.
He kisses me back, but only for a moment before he pulls back, a mischievous grin on his handsome face. “Missed me, huh?”
I’m sure he’s expecting me to argue, but I can’t seem to. “I think I did.”
He looks surprised, blinking in shock, before he laughs. “I knew I’d grow on you.”
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur halfheartedly, even though it’s kind of true. How the hell it happened, I’m not sure, but I’d be lying if I said I’ve thought about anything else today. My thoughts were consumed with Fletcher. “Help me in the kitchen?”
His smile is so damn bright, it’s nearly blinding, but he follows me into the kitchen, not saying another word. We fall seamlessly into making a salad together, cutting up fresh vegetables and putting them in the bowl.
“You know...” He chops up a tomato, adding most of it to the salad, but popping a piece into his mouth and chewing it as his eyes meet mine. “I missed you too.”
I want to mock him for that, but damn it, it does something really funny to my insides. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing to me, and before I can say anything, I hear a notification on his phone.
He reaches into his pocket and grins. A moment of unwelcome, nearly shocking jealousy spreads through me. Please don’t be stupid Josh who’s making him smile like that.
I don’t look.
And I don’t ask.
I stand there like an idiot as he types something on his phone and then places it on the counter. When he looks over at me, I don’t look away fast enough, and he knows I was watching him.
“My sister, Bree,” he supplies, and a whoosh of relief goes through me. Wow. This is really getting out of hand.
“She’s shopping with my mom but sent me a picture of my dad carrying their shopping bags.” The fond smile on his face is a glimpse into the real Fletcher. The one he hid with his arrogant bravado for so long.
“You all are really close.”
He goes back to chopping tomatoes. “We are.”
“You going to be okay when she goes to New York?” I don’t know why I’m asking. Honestly, we should have skipped dinner and just gone right to the bedroom. Keep it simple and easy. Just sex for this summer loophole.
But I want to know more about him. I crave it. Which is a total mindfuck.
I watch him, though, and his face morphs into that cocky fuckboy smile I really don’t miss. “Of course I will.”
“Don’t do that.” And again, why the hell am I going on? I should just drop it. Summer flings don’t care about you hiding your feelings.
“Do what?” he asks, and his fake smile almost slips.
“You don’t have to hide your feelings from me.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
Yes, he does. He should. He should run, damn it. I should run. Feelings. Yuck.
He looks like he’s going to argue with me, and part of me is cheering him on to do just that. Tell me feelings are gross, Fletcher. Say you don’t have them. That this is just sex and I need to chill.