Page 30 of Contingently Yours
I willnotrespond. Iwon’t.
That’s what he wants. I refuse to give Andrew Broadhouse anything he wants, even if what he just said is like a filthy-idea worm boring into my brain. How does he do that?
CHAPTER 11
Andrew
Ugh. I can feel my bones. Waking up is like being sucked out of a black hole, your body fighting against the force to stay inside a cocoon of blissful weightless darkness.
There’s that sound again…
Is someone talking? I must be dreaming because it’s way too early to hear voices.
Stretching against the warm pillow in front of me, I point my toes, pulling the stiffness from my muscles and giving my cock a lazy stroke. It’s hot and hard, but the friction brings me no relief or comfort. It’s like my dick is numb and can’t feel my hand.
Can a dick fall asleep like a foot can?
No. Then I’d have that strange sandy sensation in it.
“Andrew…” a hoarse voice calls, sounding desperate.
The pillow my face is squished against seems fleshy like skin suddenly. It’s…beefy and smells clean, with a hint of something sweet. Not at all like Veronica’s.
What am I saying? It can’t be Veronica’s. I’m in the Virgin Isles and she’s in Brussels eyeballing around for Mr. Right.
Ugh.
That can only mean one thing.
Lucas…
Fuck him.
I’m not moving.
“Andrew…”
“What?” I murmur against his shoulder blade. “Sleep time.Sleep.”
I don’t recall any of my past bed partners ever throwing off as much heat as he does. HisChia-nessmust be good insulation. I bet he saves a ton of money on not having to buy winter weather gear.
The cool morning air from the coast breezes in, giving me a chill, further breaching that veil of precious slumber. Nuzzling closer to his back, I give myself another sympathetic stroke. It’s strange, though. It produces no reaction in me other than frustration. I wish the rest of me was as asleep as my dick is right now.
Nudging my hips forward, I help it out by thrusting into my grip, but my cock arches against the downy feel of a pillow.Notmy hand. What the fuck?
“Andrew,” Lucas croaks more urgently. Something latches over my wrist, something that feels a lot like a hand. Again…notmy hand.
One of mine is tucked under the pillow beneath my head. The other is on my dick. My dick that…can’t feel my hand. My dick that feels extremely sweaty and…veiny. Has my dick always been this veiny?
Ah, shit…
Blinking my eyes open, I watch the solid back in front of my face rise and fall with a ragged breath. The biceps resting on Lucas’ ribcage are flexed, and his arm disappears over his side…right next to where mine does, too.
Damn it.
I did it again.
I start to move my hand away, but there’s something about the feel of the dick in it that has me lingering. I’ve never felt a dick other than my own.
