Page 35 of The War Revision
He abruptly yanks himself from the bed and gives me his back. A hand runs through his hair in that nervous gesture he always does when he’s regaining control of himself. Sure enough, when he turns his face is blank.
He pulls down my jeans, leaving me in my very tented briefs and then takes a step back. And then another.
I slow-blink up at him. “Where are you going?” My voice sounds raspy. “Come here.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I make a disagreeing sound. “Please.” Rolling on my side, I lift my hand to pull him down, but my fingers catch air. I push one eyelid up, and he’s not standing there anymore.
I feel the rustle and then the mattress sinks behind me. He’s too far though. I shift and envelop myself around him, head on his chest, arm around his waist, leg between his bare thighs. The skin-on-skin contact heightens the deep comfort I’m feeling.
After a while, Cole’s body relaxes and his arm wraps around me. Cole’s smell engulfs me, his fingers reach up into the back of my hair and his nails start gently scraping my scalp. A small groan builds in my chest, and I’m too tired to catch it. Too drunk to distract my mind from the euphoric sensations of his rough and gentle fingers—the perfect combination.
“Did something happened tonight?” he whispers in a low hoarse voice, while his arm tightens around my waist.
“Drink. Fight. Drink. You,” I mumble.
I think I hear him sigh.
His fingers are brushing the side of my neck now.
“Didn’t know where else to go,” I add, snuggling deeper into his body.
He shifts and pulls the covers on top of us. I feel a butterfly kiss on the top of my head.
“Didn’t want you to go anywhere else,” I think I hear him murmur.
I drift off into a deep sleep with a small smile on my lips.
Chapter 8
Theangrycapitulation
COLE
A low, sexy grunt wakes me. I keep my eyes closed trying to hang on to the delicious half-sleep state for a little bit longer. My dreams have been filled with sexy images and sounds, and I’m aching and rutting against…Kaiden.
Fuck.
I abruptly rise to consciousness. I’m wrapped around him. My hand is kneading his pec, and one leg lies on his hip and curls around his thigh, anchoring him to me. His plump ass feels amazing against my hard cock, stroking it to perfection between his cheeks. My eyes roll heavenward when he shakes it and grinds it. Fucking hell, it’s like having a private lap dance.
It’s painfully hard to pull back from him, and I groan silently as I untangle us and collapse onto my back. He follows me, mimicking my position, but still in his sleep, he doesn’t attempt to come closer.
I scrub my hands down my face. My cock is throbbing, and my briefs are wet with precum. I count down from ten, attempting to find some sort of calmness. Then I glance at him, my eyes get stuck on the endless, golden waterfall spread on my pillow. The morning sunlight peeking from the curtains hits his shiny strands, light eyelashes, and slightly parted lips.
The shadows under his pretty eyes are even more noticeable today, as is the purple mark on his jaw.
Finding him at my door, all bruised with those deep, sad, jade eyes staring at me made it impossible for me to resist. He looked so lost. I couldn’t kick him out. I felt protective toward him. And possessive. My eyes fall on the dark mark on his neck—the one I gave to him.
Did he really only drink and fight yesterday? No hookups? It’s hard to believe it, seeing him so fucking beautiful in bed. My bed. And damn, he looks too good in it.
He shifts and the sheet covering his chest slides down, putting on display his colorful tattoos, gorgeous curvy pecs, and flat abs. And those damn pierced nipples. Against my will, my fingers move toward them and lightly flick one hard bud. Kaiden lets out a small moan but doesn’t wake. Feeling audacious, I flatten my hand on the silky skin and start to explore.
Our encounters are always fast and angry, I don’t usually take my time with him. But now I want to. He feels warm and smooth under my palm. My fingers trail lightly over the large bruise on his side and then follow the inked lines on his pecs and arms.
I give in to the irresistible urge to push his hair back. I’ve touched it before. I grabbed, fisted, and pulled the strands in the heat of passion. Yesterday, I massaged his head a bit, but I’ve never tangled my fingers delicately among them. Never took time to feel the heaviness and texture. I want to stay here and keep touching him so much it hurts. Such a sweet pain.
But I don’t. I can’t.
