Page 78 of Hate to Love You
“Okay,” I grind out against my better judgment. “I’ll stay.” Even though it’s a lousy idea, I’m unable to deny her what she wants. “But we’re not having sex,” I reiterate firmly.
Not in a million years did I ever think those words would come out of my mouth.
Looking pleased, she hops off my lap and holds out her hand. I slip my fingers into hers, and she tugs me to my feet before towing me to her room.
A queen-sized bed with a turquoise comforter takes up most of the square footage. A mirrored nightstand sits next to it and a matching dresser is shoved against the far wall. There’s a framed picture of Natalie and her parents on the nightstand. She looks like she’s just a kid in it.
Everything in here is neat and more girly than I would have expected. Is it possible that under Natalie’s hard candy shell lies a soft nougat filling?
It’s an interesting concept.
I pick up the silver-framed picture of her and her parents. This is the first time I’m seeing a photograph of her father. When I’d met Karen, I’d thought Natalie bore a striking resemblance to her, but now I see that she also looks a lot like her father. They both have the same dark hair and eyes. She’s a perfect mix of the two.
“Did your dad call to wish you a happy birthday?” I ask out of curiosity.
The lazy smile falters from her lips as a cloud passes over her eyes. “He texted when I didn’t pick up his call.”
“Are you going to talk to him anytime soon? Try working things out?” I know she was pissed after the night at the restaurant. What I feel for Natalie isn’t just physical. I want her to open up and let me in.
Which is yet another first for me. I’ve never made an effort to know a girl. Sex was all I was looking for. The women were interchangeable. There’s been more than a few times that I’ve been buried balls-deep in a chick and couldn’t remember her name.
I’m not proud of it. But whatever is happening with Natalie is different. It’s light-years away from some nameless one-night stand where I’m just dipping my wick and blowing my wad.
Natalie shrugs. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
She fingers the hem of her sweater. In one swift movement, she yanks it over her head and tosses it to the floor, standing in front of me in a silky black bra with white cherries printed on it. My mouth dries as I greedily take her in.
That bra…
It’s entirely possible my tongue is hanging out of my mouth and I’m drooling.
Racking my brain, I try to pick up the thread of our conversation. Right…Her dad. “Maybe you need to give him another chance to make things right.” The more I stare at her, the harder it becomes to concentrate on the discussion I’m forcing us to have.
Her fingers hover over the waistband of her jeans before slipping the metal disk from its hole and pushing the material down her hips and thighs. She bends at the waist, and her long, wavy hair falls like a curtain around her as she removes the denim and her socks.
I want to sift my fingers through all those soft strands and gather them up in my hands. It doesn’t take much effort to conjure up an image of Natalie on her knees, pouty lips wrapped around my thick cock.
When she straightens, revealing skimpy panties that match the bra, I hiss out a breath.
Motherfucker!
I knew this wasn’t a good idea and I was right.
She slips the thin black straps off her shoulders and asks, “Do you really want to continue talking about my dad?”
Ummm…
“No,” I mutter.
“Good.” She reaches around and unhooks the bra. The material slides down her arms and falls away from her chest before dropping to the floor. “Because he’s the last thing I want to think about right now. Especially after having such an amazing night.”
My eyes are fastened to her breasts. We’re talking utter perfection. Firm and perky with tiny, blush-colored nipples. My fingers ache to play with them.
She slips her fingers under the elastic band of her panties and starts to slide them over her hips.
“Leave them on!” I shout, breaking the silence.
Her eyes widen, and her fingers freeze. “What?”