Page 80 of Escaping Our Reality

I run my hand over my face, scratching my three-day growth. “Because I would become obsessed. I know I would. The second you cross that line with me, Lulu, there will be no going back. When it comes to you, I’m an addict. The feel of your skin on mine. The sensation of your hot mouth sucking my cum from my body? It would be a never-ending obsession. And I’m not prepared to be one of those dickwads who expects a hand job or blow job from his girlfriend every single time they have five minutes alone together. I’m an asshole, but I don’t wanna bethatkind of an asshole.”

She blushes, whether from anger or whether from my graphic words, I’m not quite sure. “But it’s okay for you to have your fingers in me, to have your mouth on me? To have my wetness dripping from your chin?”

My dick is painfully hard right now. So. Damn. Painful. “Yes,” I croak.

She points a finger in my face. “You’re not playing our game fair, Ry.” She puffs out her chest in defiance.

The chest I finally spent hours last night exploring. My initial thoughts were right. Her nipples are extremely sensitive. And perfect in every single way. I tilt my head to the side. “So?”

Wrong word to say.

“I can’t touch you? Fine. Then, you can’t touch me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your hands aren’t allowed on my body until my hands are allowed on your body.”

“You’re kidding.”

She leans forward, preparing to tell me a secret. Her whispered response sends a chill up my spine. “Game on.”

***

Two days.

Two whole days with no kissing. No touching. No tasting.

She hasn’t even let me ‘accidentally’ bump into her while we’ve been working at the body shop.

Why? Because I’m a fucking idiot.

Here is it Friday night and I’m nursing a beer, my bruised ego, and my swollen dick, in front of the laptop, watching one of Lulu’s crime shows, with the firepit crackling in the background, spewing heat into the unseasonably warm spring night.

I’m pouting. There’s really no other word for it.

We aren’t even sitting in the loveseat together like normal. She’s in one chair, and I’m in another. I glance over at her. She doesn’t even act troubled by all of this. She’s just watching the show and picking at the label on her water bottle.

I grunt. Standing from the chair, I stretch my arms high above my head. It’s a planned move. Lulu loves it when I do this. My shirt rides up, showing my waist and the band of my boxer briefs. Except this time, she doesn’t gawk. Not even a peep. I mumble, “I’m getting another beer. Need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

Taking a long swig from my fresh beer, I’m walking back up to the patio when her phone rings. She jumps, startled by the jarring noise. Her jaw tenses. Based on experience, that means it’s either her mom, her dad, Kristie, or Hudson. She smiles when her aunt or uncle calls. She smiles when her cousins, Holt or Raylee, call. Hell, she even smiles when Detective Marcum calls.

“Hi, Mom.”

After several moments, she closes her eyes and rubs her temple. “No, Mom. I’m not in Miami. I left you two voicemails last weekend and even texted you. I also talked to Dad on Monday. He said he would tell you. I stayed here. I’m spending the week camping with Ryland.”

…

She sits up straight, stiffening her spine. Uh-oh, this should be interesting. She tosses a glance over her left shoulder, presumably checking for me. She doesn’t see me, though; I’m standing behind her right side. She hisses into the phone. “Yes, Mom. He’s still athing. And by the way, thisthingis pretty real. So, you better get used to it.”

…

She blows a raspberry. “Nothing is wrong with me. I’ve always been stubborn and combative, I just kept it buried beneath the surface.”

…

“But I’m getting tired, Mom. I always do what you want me to do simply because it makes life easier. I act proper and polite, but only to those who come from lives like ours. Everyone else gets the cold shoulder. I wear the clothes you approve of because you believe the world judges a book by its cover. I picked my college major on what you and Dad deemed appropriate for our pedigree and station in life. I even eat the food you think I should. Heaven forbid, I gain ten pounds and go up a size.”

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