Page 32 of Obey
As someone who, until very recently, was essentially keeping herself for marriage, I’m not sure I can go all the way with someone I have no plans to marry. But that leaves a heck of a lot of stuff I could try.
My bucket list is pretty long, and only some of them involve full pene?—
“You coming?” Jagger’s holding the elevator open, staring at me with impatience in his eyes, his lips in a flat line.
I bet he’s regretting bringing me along on his adventure into the warmth. Following him into the room, I shrug off the dirtythoughts of my roommate for the rest of the day and all night. He probably thought we weren’t going to survive the night so needed one last orgasm before his peen froze.
Nothing else is going to happen between us.
The room is small, cozy, and while the woman at the desk told us there were two beds, she was overshooting. The second bed is a pull-out couch. And twenty minutes of trying to figure the dang thing out doesn’t help. I’m pretty sure it’s broken.
“I’ll take the couch.” Jagger’s voice is hard.
“No! I couldn’t let you do that.”
He didn’t let me pay for the room. I spied an ATM in the lobby though, so I’ll withdraw cash and pay him for my half before we leave. But I draw the line at him taking the world’s smallest couch that doesn’t even pull out into a bed like we were promised when we got here.
“It wasn’t a question.” He grunts, drops his bag, and settles on the couch like the decision has been made. Without discussion.
The audacity.
“What if I want the couch?” I pop my knee, planting my hands on my hips like I mean business. Which I do. But staring down the man who barely fits on the couch, even I have to admit it’s laughable.
Just a little though. I’ve got a pretty good mean mug.
He doesn’t even dignify me with an answer. In fact, he glares right through me. If I wasn’t so mad at him not even letting me make my own decision, I’d put up more of a fight. But if the big, cranky oaf wants to make his creaky, broken, couch-bed, then he can lie in it.
“Fine. Be a stubborn mule. I’m taking a shower.” I gesture at my clothes. “I wonder if they have a laundry service. I’m running out of clean clothes.”
My carryon bag didn’t have a lot in it since I was going to my parent’s house and I have clothes there. But I have the clothes from the plane, today’s clothes, and a pair of pjs I didn’t wear last night because it was so cold.
He doesn’t answer, he’s too busy digging in his bag for something, so I leave him to it. While I’m in the shower, I try to remind myself he’s always been grumpy, from the minute he sat down next to me on the plane.
Our little, uh, session last night didn’t make him less grumpy. Did I expect it to soften him some? I don’t know. But I’m hugely self-conscious for some reason. And I’m definitely feeling... things, things I don’t quite understand.
Tears stream down my face under the jets of steaming hot water. The warmth wraps around me, but doesn’t reach all the way into my bones. I don’t know how long has passed, but when there’s a soft knock on the door, the bathroom’s full of thick steam.
“Yeah?” I sniff, hoping it’s not too obvious I’m crying.
“Are you okay?” His voice is as gruff as always, but there’s an element of concern that warms my insides. “Do you need help?”
It’s hard not to snort. “Help? Showering? I think I’m good.”
Something tells me he’s still lingering at the door.
“What is it?”
“Do you need me to wash your hair?”
What the heck is this guy’s deal?
“No, thanks, it’s already done. I’ll be out in a sec.”
When I emerge from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my body and another curled around my head, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed like he’s been waiting for me.
“Do you need a hug?” His voice is soft, sincere.
“Why?”