Page 102 of When It's Us
At the top of the stairs, I set her gently on her feet.
She opens her eyes—and sees it.
"It’s…a bed?" she says, blinking, taking in the king-size bed, made up with crisp white sheets and a muted gray duvet that the salesgirl in Billings said was like sleeping under a cloud, and pillows stacked against the dark gray tufted headboard.
I rub the back of my neck, feeling suddenly awkward.
Does she think it’s stupid? God, maybe I shouldn’t have told her it was a surprise for her. I mean, I guess she kind of assumed, but I didn’t correct her, and now I’m second-guessing if this will even mean anything to her. IfImean anything to her.
"Yeah.” I nod, chancing a quick glance at her, but her gaze is fixed on the bed.
Shit. Did I read more into things than I should have? Maybe it was stupid getting a bed for…whatever this is we’re doing. Fuck it. Too late now.
“It's probably dumb, but...I know you’re not a big fan of the van. Figured this would be better.” I shrug like it’s nothing, trying to keep my voice casual, but the next words slip out before I can stop them. "Cleaner. No history."
I don’t look at her when I say it. I can’t, for fear of her, I don’t know…judging me? Rejecting me? Who knows.
Either way she can probably put it together—I’ve had other women there. It’s been months, but it still bothers me now. In a way that it never has before.
But this isn’t about guilt. It’s that Ginger’s not likethem. I can’t say that I love her. I honestly don’t know if I even know what that feels like or if I’d ever be capable of it, but I do know that I never want her in a position or place that feels disposable or cheap.
Says the guy who fucked her like an animal over the sink in a dingy bar bathroom, not evenan hour ago.
Something shifts in her face, a realization blooming, and before I can say more, she throws herself at me.
I catch her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist like it’s second nature. She leans back, tugging my neck toward the bed with her arms around me.
In a few quick strides, we’re at the bed. Her mouth crashes into mine, all heat and hunger—even after the insane sex we had at the bar, it’s like we’ll never get enough of each other. I lower her onto the mattress, following her down so we don’t break the kiss.
"You did this for me?" she whispers against my lips.
I nod, still tasting her. I don’t want to stop. Her happiness is palpable, pouring off her in waves.
"You wanna break it in?" she murmurs, a little grin playing on her lips.
I groan against her mouth. "Hell yes."
She’s already tearing at my belt, yanking my shirt up, and I’m gone—completely, utterly hers.
Our kiss isn’t rough, or greedy, although I am definitelythatwhen it comes to Ginger.
I take time undressing her, wanting to see every inch of her incredible curves and soft skin. When she’s naked and writhing underneath me, warm skin on warm skin, I kiss a trail across her collarbone, palming her hips. I move lower to press a soft kiss on her knee before trailing my lips up her inner thigh.
“You’re beautiful,” I murmur.
“You’re making me crazy,” she says, threading her fingers through my hair and tugging gently.
“I’m savoring,” I counter, kissing my way up her abdomen, over her tits and back to her mouth.
By the time I’m done devouring her skin, we’re both shaking.
I brace my hands on either side of her face, my gaze finding hers. “You want me to grab a condom?”
Her answering chuckle is soft. “Your cum is still dripping out of me. I think it’s a little late for condoms.”
Maybe we shouldn’t have done that.Idon’t do that. Not ever. It’s a rule I don’t break—because breaking it means remembering, and I’ve spent years not doing that. But with Ginger…it feltdifferent. Not impulsive. Not reckless.Right. And maybe that should scare me more than it does.
Her words hit me hard. She’s mine. She’s letting herself be mine. And not just in the heat of the moment.
