Page 82 of Static

I chuckled. "We can take as long as you want, Sugar."

"I meant to go downstairs already," she said, turning her face and resting her cheek on my shirt.

"The last thing I want is to force you to do anything," I told her. "I'm just trying to find out what helps you in these situations."

"Going down and being around the others always helps."

"Damn. I was hoping you were going to say orgasms." I grinned down at her. "I could make you come over and over and-"

She pressed her fingers to my lips with a wry smile. "You already did that last night."

I tilted my head, then nipped her fingertips. "That was last night. Don't live in the past."

She laughed and shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

"True." I waited a beat. "So where did we land on the orgasms?"

Laughing, she smacked my chest. "Maybe later."

"You're already sick of me?" I asked, giving her a playful wounded look.

"No, I just don't want my children walking in."

"That's what the lock is for," I replied. Moving her hair aside, I brushed my lips over her neck.

"Static," she groaned.

"Fine, fine," I said, curling my arms under her knees and her back, I stood with her in my arms. "No orgasms."

Her laughter rang out as I carried her out of her apartment and down the stairs.

"Will you put me down!"

"No. I like this," I told her.

"Hey guys, oh!" Sylvia ran up as she came in from outside. Worry clouded her face. "Are you hurt, Sweetie?"

"No," Gwen told her, reaching out to squeeze Syl's hand. "This jerk just won't put me down."

I jostled Gwen in my arms. "She's fun to carry around."

A smile spread over Sylvia's face. "Well, I'd put her down before you go outside or you're going to have all of them fighting to get to her first."

Sadness filled Gwen's expression even as Sylvia told us she'd be back and ran upstairs. I looked down at the woman in my arms. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"Bottling things up isn't helpful," I told her. When she raised her brows, I shrugged. She squeaked at the movement and put her hands on my chest to steady herself. As if I'd ever drop her. "Or so I've heard."

"I just feel bad that everyone is always so worried about me," she admitted, looking up at me.

My chest tightened at the look on her beautiful face. "We care about you."

"I know. I don't want to be the little wounded bird," she muttered. "I just can't seem to work past it, you know?"

"That's understandable. We certainly don't mean to treat you like glass."

She shook her head as if shaking off the sadness. "I'll just have to stop feeling sorry for myself and stop acting like everyone needs to treat me that way."

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