Page 41 of Say It Slowly

With a huff, I lay back on my pillow and stare up at the dark ceiling. It doesn’t help that her delicate scent fills every fucking breath I take. My cock is swollen, knowing her soft curves are just inches away. How easy it would be to roll over, spread her thighs, and sink into her decadent heat. Would she resist? If she did, that would just add to the excitement of our little game.

No.

Fuck.

If I take her now, I’ll rip her apart. And she’d probably fucking like it, too. She plays innocent, but there’s something dark inside her, too. Something that pulls at me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. And I just want to taste it. That darkness. Onelittletaste before I go to sleep.

Pulling in a long breath, I fist my hands at my sides and force my eyes closed. Idly, I wonder if anyone has ever died of blue balls because right now, they’re rock-fucking-solid…

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lux

It’s warm,and the pillow beneath my head is so soft, I don’t want to wake up. I lay there for a few minutes, eyes closed, willing myself to go back to sleep. When it’s clear that’s not happening, I blink open my eyes.

I’m on my side, gripping the pillow. It’s still dark, but the sun is just rising, little tendrils of light creeping through the curtainless window to my left. I know where I am, but I remember that I fell asleep before Roman came home, and I wonder if he ever wandered in from wherever he went. The bed ishuge,so he could have snuck in without me even realizing.

Flip over and look. Just do it.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous about looking to see if he’s in bed with me. Maybe it’s because actuallysleepingtogether is a whole new level of intimacy that I’m not sure I can handle right now.

But I can’t lie here all day, either, so I’d better just get it over with.

Holding my breath, I gently roll over onto my back, trying to be as quiet as possible, just in case he is here, and he’s asleep. Once I'm on my back, I turn my head, and…his spot is empty.

Both relief and disappointment hit me at once.

I release the breath I’d been holding, and sit up, glancing around the rest of the room, just in case he’s in the bathroom, or sitting at the desk. But I’m completely alone.

I get up, and take care of all my bathroom stuff, then look at the clock. It’s super early. Did he come back to the house at all? Probably not. But then…where is he? I shouldn’t care. I should just be happy he’s not here. But a heavy feeling knots in my stomach.

Is he with someone else?

The second that question surfaces, I push it away. Roman and I aren’t together, not really. He can do whatever the fuck he wants.

My stomach growls, so I head downstairs to grab some cereal, which seems to have magically appeared overnight. Jackson is sitting at the little breakfast nook, devouring a bagel. I’m shocked that he’s up so early, but his hair is wet, and he’s wearing swim trunks and nothing else. I wonder if he just got back from surfing.

“Are there more bagels?” I ask, bleary-eyed. Someone brewed coffee, so I grab a mug and fill it up. There’s no milk, or half and half, so I just gulp the coffee down black, wincing at the bitterness.

He lifts his chin to indicate a half-full bag of bagels on the counter. I grab one and shove it into the toaster. While I’m waiting, I lean against the counter and watch Jackson as he chews, looking down at his phone.

“Did Roman come back last night?” I don’t even know why I’m asking, but I want to know. Maybe he came home, but slept downstairs in the living room or something.

Jackson glances up at me, and looks like he’s considering whether or not to answer. Finally, he says, “Yeah, he went surfing this morning, though. He’s down at the beach.”

“Oh.” Relief washes over me. “What beach?”

He gestures to the southside of the house. “Our beach.”

My gaze flicks over his bare chest. “Did you already go?”

His brows pinch together, like he’s annoyed that I’m asking so many questions. “Yeah, but I have class, so I had to dip out early,” he answers gruffly.

“Ah.” The toaster pops, and I snag the tub of cream cheese off the table, spreading a generous amount on each half of the bagel.

With my plate, I mumble “bye” to Jackson, and head back upstairs. Roman surfing. Hm. I don’t have class for a couple of hours, and it might be interesting to see him out on the water.

I take a couple bites of bagel and throw on one of Roman’s hoodies, a pair of my flip flops, then head back downstairs and out the door, bagel in hand. The beach is just down the dirt path, below the house, and I head down there.

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