again tomorrow.
I let more of my body weight settle on top of her so that I became too heavy for her to grind against me anymore; effectively trapping her beneath me. Then I started to slow our kisses down so that, eventually—after a few aggravated growls on her part—we were now enjoying each other’s touches with long, lingering effects instead of racing towards something else. Her body started to relax into the bed, the movement of her hands moving up and down my back becoming sluggish, and I knew she was moments from passing out from the alcohol.
Pulling away from her lips, she gave a soft mewl of disappointment, and then quieted when I rolled to my side, taking her with me. My right arm became a pillow for her head and my left arm clamped tightly around her waist, pressing her soft curves into my front. I should have loosened my grip, giving her a little breathing room, but I didn’t want to take the chance that she’d try to get away from me again, so I didn’t. Belle buried her face against my chest as I felt both of her hands fist the fabric of my shirt. Kissing the top of her head, I patiently waited while her body’s weight slowly turned into dead weight against me and she started slipping into sleep.
Just when I thought she was out, she mumbled into my chest. Slowly rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her, I felt her raise her face up a little before she mumbled, “Missed you, Ace. I’m so, so sorry.”
Is she awake and trying to talk to me after all? My heart skips a beat at her admission that she missed me because I’ve missed her so fucking much, too. Pulling back, I looked down at her face, but it was slack with sleep, except for the cute little furrow between her eyebrows. She’s talking in her sleep. Well, at least her subconscious was willing to admit that she missed me, but what in the hell could she be sorry for? I was the asshole that screwed it all up between us.
Chapter Six
Annabelle
Ugh. It felt like there was a drum set playing in my head. Also, why was the bed moving underneath me? Gingerly cracking open one eyelid, the first thing I realized was that it was still dark out. Not just in the room, but also outside since there was no light peeking around the curtains across the room from me. Curtains that looked absolutely nothing like the ones I had in my bedroom. The next thing I noticed was that I was not lying on a bed, but on a body.
Sweet baby Jesus, what had I done last night?
I let my eyes slowly drift up the gray t-shirt that covered a thickly muscled chest and, oh boy, it was a nice chest, until I was looking at a man’s neck and the underside of a solid, prominent jaw. Realizing who that jaw belonged to meant I had good news and I had bad news. The good news was, I knew who this incredible chest that I was lying on was, so I wasn’t sleeping with a stranger, which would have been a first for me. The bad news was, I knew who the incredible chest I’d been sleeping on belonged to and, apparently, drooling on since I was now looking back down to that incredible chest and the wet spot there that stood out where my mouth had been positioned. It was Bobby Baker. How in the Holy Hell did I end up in bed with Bobby?
Looking down to my own body, I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw that I still had clothes on. Of course, there was a small part of me that was also disappointed that I had clothes on, but as the Rolling Stones were famous for saying, you can’t always get what you want. Despite all the hurt between us, what I’d always wanted desperately was Bobby. Hazy memories started to develop as I watched him sleep. Fuzzy snippets where he said the things I’d dreamt of him saying to me in my loneliest moments through the years.
I should have never sent you that letter.
Eight words I’d never thought I’d hear, along with an apology and his attempt to tell me he still loved me. One would think that those words would be exactly
I let more of my body weight settle on top of her so that I became too heavy for her to grind against me anymore; effectively trapping her beneath me. Then I started to slow our kisses down so that, eventually—after a few aggravated growls on her part—we were now enjoying each other’s touches with long, lingering effects instead of racing towards something else. Her body started to relax into the bed, the movement of her hands moving up and down my back becoming sluggish, and I knew she was moments from passing out from the alcohol.
Pulling away from her lips, she gave a soft mewl of disappointment, and then quieted when I rolled to my side, taking her with me. My right arm became a pillow for her head and my left arm clamped tightly around her waist, pressing her soft curves into my front. I should have loosened my grip, giving her a little breathing room, but I didn’t want to take the chance that she’d try to get away from me again, so I didn’t. Belle buried her face against my chest as I felt both of her hands fist the fabric of my shirt. Kissing the top of her head, I patiently waited while her body’s weight slowly turned into dead weight against me and she started slipping into sleep.
Just when I thought she was out, she mumbled into my chest. Slowly rubbing my hand up and down her back to soothe her, I felt her raise her face up a little before she mumbled, “Missed you, Ace. I’m so, so sorry.”
Is she awake and trying to talk to me after all? My heart skips a beat at her admission that she missed me because I’ve missed her so fucking much, too. Pulling back, I looked down at her face, but it was slack with sleep, except for the cute little furrow between her eyebrows. She’s talking in her sleep. Well, at least her subconscious was willing to admit that she missed me, but what in the hell could she be sorry for? I was the asshole that screwed it all up between us.
Chapter Six
Annabelle
Ugh. It felt like there was a drum set playing in my head. Also, why was the bed moving underneath me? Gingerly cracking open one eyelid, the first thing I realized was that it was still dark out. Not just in the room, but also outside since there was no light peeking around the curtains across the room from me. Curtains that looked absolutely nothing like the ones I had in my bedroom. The next thing I noticed was that I was not lying on a bed, but on a body.
Sweet baby Jesus, what had I done last night?
I let my eyes slowly drift up the gray t-shirt that covered a thickly muscled chest and, oh boy, it was a nice chest, until I was looking at a man’s neck and the underside of a solid, prominent jaw. Realizing who that jaw belonged to meant I had good news and I had bad news. The good news was, I knew who this incredible chest that I was lying on was, so I wasn’t sleeping with a stranger, which would have been a first for me. The bad news was, I knew who the incredible chest I’d been sleeping on belonged to and, apparently, drooling on since I was now looking back down to that incredible chest and the wet spot there that stood out where my mouth had been positioned. It was Bobby Baker. How in the Holy Hell did I end up in bed with Bobby?
Looking down to my own body, I breathed out a sigh of relief when I saw that I still had clothes on. Of course, there was a small part of me that was also disappointed that I had clothes on, but as the Rolling Stones were famous for saying, you can’t always get what you want. Despite all the hurt between us, what I’d always wanted desperately was Bobby. Hazy memories started to develop as I watched him sleep. Fuzzy snippets where he said the things I’d dreamt of him saying to me in my loneliest moments through the years.
I should have never sent you that letter.
Eight words I’d never thought I’d hear, along with an apology and his attempt to tell me he still loved me. One would think that those words would be exactly
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