Page 138 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

“I don’t want you to stay on the pull-out anymore. You already told me that you were thinking about me in your bed. There’s no reason you can’t share it with me for the rest of the week.”

“You’re sure?” It’s all I can get out, my chest tightening from the weight of how badly I want to have her body pressed against me.

“Without a doubt.”

After we finish eating and cleaning up our mess, we settle on watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Halfway into the movie, I shift my arm to rest along the back of the couch, and Ava moves to lean into my side.

She grabbed one of the blankets from my room. Beneath the blanket, the subtle touches are back, and she’s driving me out of my damn mind. I’m brushing my hand along her thigh, massaging her skin there, when her leg falls open.

I clench my jaw, fighting the internal war with myself on whether I should give in or not, but it’s a losing battle when her leg trembles, and I realize she wants this just as much as I do.

When my fingers continue their journey up her thigh to find she’s not wearing anything underneath her cotton shorts, I make the decision to take a cold shower before we crawl into bed. There will be no way in hell I’ll get through the night having her next to me without it.

She tilts her head back to glance up at me, and when she opens her legs more, there’s no confusion about what she’s silently asking me. Ava wants me to touch her, to pleasure her, and I’m not sure which one of us wants this more.

“Finish what you started earlier, Colter. This time, don’t hold back.”

A low growl emanates from deep in my chest when I brush my finger over her pussy, finding her even more wet than I imagined. She grips my forearm, her nails digging into my skin, and the pain manages to anchor me to this moment.

When I slide my finger over her pussy, moving lower until I’m positioned right at her entrance, I notice her eyes roll closed and her hips thrust toward me. She’s like me, unable to control her body and how badly we want this.

There’s no going back now as I slip my finger inside her, and she bites her lip to stifle her moan.

“Jesus, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“Your finger,” she mutters, “Oh my God, it feels so good. Keep going.”

When I tease her, pulling out of her and pushing the tip back in, she moves her grip lower on my wrist and uses it to set the tempo she wants. Each time, she takes more until I add a second, and her body vibrates against me.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“So, so good.” The words come out choppy, and her chest heaves with the force of her heavy pants.

I can tell when she’s close, her movements becoming more and more frantic, her quiet words begging me not to stop until she’s falling over the edge. Her nails dig into me, moving my hand until I’m thrust deep inside her pussy, covering me with her orgasm.

She collapses against my side, and I smile. Never in my life have I felt more satisfied from pleasuring someone else than I do right now. She doesn’t even bat an eye when I reach for the remote and turn the movie off or when I lift her into my arms, carrying her into my room and setting her on my bed.

She perks back up when she watches me pull my shirt off and change into a pair of shorts, turning off the light and crawling in next to her. I skip the cold shower entirely, not wanting to be away from her, even for a second.

Ava’s palm brushes over the front of my shorts. “What about you?”

I lift her chin and press my lips to hers. It’s hard to see her in the darkness, but it’s like our bodies are so in tune that we find each other like two magnets unable to resist the pull.

She opens her mouth for me, her tongue brushing along the seam of my lips. I’m unable to resist her, rolling her onto her back, gripping her wrists, and pinning her to the bed.

When I thrust my hips against her, rocking my hard length along her center, she opens her legs wider for me and quietly begs for more.

I bury my face into her neck, inhaling her fruity scent mixed with the subtle smell of coconut. She’s intoxicating, exhilarating, and I have to remind myself to savor every moment because the voice in the back of my mind wants it to be rough and fast. She deserves better than that, though. I plan to give it to her, just not tonight.

“Let me hold you,” I whisper, pressing my lips against her temple.

She loops her legs around my waist, attempting to hold me against her. I lean away, brushing her hair off her forehead.

The lights from the front porch filter in through the blinds, highlighting enough of her face to capture the look in her eyes.

“You don’t have to keep holding back with me. I’m not made of glass. You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“It’s not that I’m afraid of hurting you physically. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I just know when the week is over, and you move into your own place, I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. To continue to see me.”

---