Page 42 of Inviting Trouble
He collapsed on top of her. She couldn’t have moved anyway. She was so deeply satisfied, limp and boneless.
A long moment later, he rolled off her and padded to the bathroom, probably to get rid of the condom. By the time he returned, she summoned her last reserve of energy and sat up. She had to go before he asked her to leave. She scooted to the edge of the bed and stopped, staring in shock where his wallet had fallen open on the floor. There was a plastic holder for pictures. And the picture right on top was of her.
It was the night of his going-away party. She recognized the ripped concert shirt and his flannel shirt, her long hair in a high ponytail, but what she saw most of all was the love shining in her eyes. He must’ve known all this time how she worshipped him. She went to pick it up with shaking hands when Park grabbed her and pulled her back against him.
“Stay the night,” he said, stroking her hair back. He tucked her more firmly against him, spooning her from behind. “You cold? You’re trembling.”
She couldn’t help it, she was so shocked that he’d carried her picture around all these years.
He settled the covers over her, his arm banding around her waist, his legs tucking against hers. Her throat was clogged with emotion. She debated mentioning the picture. What did it mean? She wanted to look through his wallet, see if there were other pictures. Maybe he had tons of pictures tucked in there. Maybe it was just a coincidence that she was the first picture.
She waited for long moments, until his hold on her loosened, before slowly shifting toward the edge of the bed, intent on snagging the wallet.
Park pulled her back, tucking her against him, his large hand on her head pinning her in place. “Go to sleep, little bit.”
“Don’t call me that anymore,” she said sleepily, the firm hold and the heat of his body relaxing her. Little bit was a kid nickname and that wasn’t where they were at.
He brushed her hair back and kissed her temple. “Go to sleep, sassy mouth.”
She bristled, but then he stroked her hair, lulling her. His arm wrapped around her waist again, heavy and secure. She felt so good she finally gave up the fight, closed her eyes, and dropped into a deep sleep.
~ ~ ~
Park woke from a deeply satisfying sleep a little disoriented. He opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings. Hotel. Wedding. He bolted upright. Mad.
She sat on the edge of the bed, going through his wallet.
“What’re you doing?” he barked.
She jumped, her cheeks flushing pink. “I was looking at your pictures.”
“Who said you could go through my wallet?”
“It was on the floor,” she said. “I picked it up. Park, what does this mean?” She held it open, showing him the picture he’d tucked in there. It was from the night he’d left. He’d taken it on his cell phone and, the first chance he got, he had it printed into a picture. That picture had seen him through many a lonely night overseas.
He snagged the wallet and closed it. “Nothing.” He leaned over and set it on the nightstand. Next thing he knew Mad was in his lap. Her petite body naked and hot against him. He went instantly hard. Fuck. He didn’t have any more condoms and this was supposed to be a onetime thing anyway. He tried to peel her off, but she clung tighter. She was strong too, her cheek pressed against his chest. He was sure she could hear the thundering of his heart.
She looked up at him, her doe-brown eyes searching his. He had her delicate features memorized—the curve of her cheek, her small upturned nose, her pointy chin. “Why do you have my picture in your wallet?”
He blinked, not wanting to hurt her, but at the same time needing her to understand there were boundaries between them, set for her own good.
Her hands roamed on his back, her hot mouth pressed against the side of his neck. He grabbed her by the hair and kissed her hard, unable to resist. She returned the kiss, pressing close, pelvis to pelvis. His instinct to lift her, to sink into oblivion was overwhelming. His fingers tightened in her hair, his other hand on her hip, gripping tight as he fought instinct. But then she grabbed his shoulders, lifting herself, and he had to hold her by the hips with both hands to stop her from sinking down onto him.
“Mad, this was a mistake.” How was he going to face his family? How could he face her and see the disappointment in her eyes that he could never be the kind of man she needed?
“Fuck you, this was a mistake,” she snapped, her nails digging into his shoulders.
Dark desire thrummed through him. Rough and raw. Not what she deserved.
He closed his eyes. “It was.”
She moved quickly, her teeth sinking into his earlobe, giving a sharp tug. He felt himself grow harder, thicker, the need pushing the limits of his control. Her words skimmed hot near his ear. “Open your eyes and see who you’re about to fuck.”
He opened his eyes to find her glaring at him, the expression on her face defiant, challenging, and strong all at the same time.
He couldn’t help himself. He stroked his thumb across her full lower lip and, when her lips parted, pushed inside. Her tongue swirled around his thumb, and he watched as she sucked. He trailed his fingers lower, over her sharp chin, which she lifted, exposing her throat to his rough stroke.
He felt her swallow under his fingers, and he dropped his hand.
