Page 54 of Chips & Checks
I unbutton my pants and shimmy out of them. “Not without your plus one.”
She lifts her head. “I don’t have a plus one.”
“As your fake boyfriend with real benefits, I beg to differ.I’myour plus one.”
“Oh, if you insist.” She falls silent for a moment, lying so still that I wonder if she fell asleep that fast. I exchange my button-down for a t-shirt before she speaks again. “I mean… I didn’t think you’d want to because it’s a weekday. You don’t go anywhere with a girl on a weekday, right?”
I pull out a shirt and toss it to her. “Nope. It’s totally fine. It’s not like it’s a date or anything.”
“Right.” Violet fingers the material of the shirt. “And this is…?”
“Long enough to be a dress on you, I’m sure. Unless you’d rather sleep in your dress clothes.”
“That’s… sweet.” Violet sits up, clutching the shirt to her chest. “Really sweet, in fact. Is there a rule about borrowing clothes?”
“Nope,” I lie, hoping she doesn’t pull up the rules list I sent her and double-check. “There are extra toothbrushes in my vanity.”
Violet takes my giant t-shirt to the bathroom. I hear the sound of cabinet doors and then running water. No doubt she’s washing her face and brushing her teeth.
I sit here like an idiot, staring at the spot where she was. I’ve had women in my bed before—but never in my space. Never in a way that lingered. The image hits me hard. Violet’s toothbrush next to mine, bristles touching in the holder. Domestic. Familiar. Intimate in a way that sex never is.
And fuck me, I want it.
Even though I’ve spent my whole life pretending I don’t.
I climb between the sheets of my new bed and try to pull myself together. I’m breaking too many rules for this woman. Even more terrifyingly, I’m thrilled by the prospect of falling asleep next to her and waking up in her arms. This isn’tme.I’m not a romantic.
And yet, when Violet emerges from the bathroom draped in my clothes, the first word that comes to mind is:mine.
Violet hovers at the foot of the mattress in my shirt—just that—hem skimming the smooth swell of her thighs, moonlight licking the line of her collarbone.
“Bed. Now.”
She crawls up the mattress without a word, breath hitching when I seize her wrist and drag her across the sheets until she’s flush against me. Cotton drags over her skin, heat beating through the thin fabric right into my palm.
Her lips brush my ear. “Take the damn thing off me.”
I fist the hem, haul it over her head. Goose bumps bloom across her stomach as cool air hits bare flesh, but she’s blazing beneath my touch. I cup one breast, my thumb rasping over the tight peak; she shivers and bites her bottom lip, stifling a whimper.
“Keep quiet if you can,” I murmur, mouth tracing her jaw, the warning more dare than request.
She tips her chin, eyes fired with something reckless. “Make me try.”
I flip her, pressing her to the mattress. She parts her legs without prompting, knees drawn high. My fingers graze the inside of her thigh, slide higher, find slick heat waiting. Her head snaps back, breath rushing out in a filthy little gasp she can’t swallow.
Condom on—fast—then I grip her hips, push, inch by inch, until I’m buried deep. Her nails carve crescents down my back; the raw sting only throws gasoline on my pulse.
“So tight,” I grind out, jaw clenched.
“Move,” she pants, rocking up to take me harder.
I do. Hips snap, sheets bunch, the bed creaks like it might splinter. Every thrust punches a broken moan from her throat.She claws for leverage, heels digging into my ass, dragging me closer, deeper, faster.
“Bowen—fuck—right there.”
I lock one arm behind her knee, change the angle, pound into that sweet spot until her voice fractures. My other hand finds her clit, circles hard and relentlessly. She bucks, curses, then shatters—body taut, eyes blown wide as the orgasm rips through her.
The clamp of her release drags me over the edge; I bury myself one last time, groaning against her neck while release tears down my spine.
