sound echoed off the cheap tile and it was reduced to shreds that hung from my shoulders. Even though I registered that I loved that tank, I didn’t care because I was yanking his shirt over his head and his skin was on my skin and that was all that mattered.
I was lost and drowning in the flames. His arm banded around my waist once more and he bounced me up and down. I threw my head back, clenching my eyes shut, and wrapped my arms as far around his neck as I could reach from my position. His mouth latched on to my collarbone and he nipped at it, and why the fuck did that feel so good?
Pressure was building up inside me and I couldn’t think around it, couldn’t think around the need for release, for that pressure to finally explode. I was sensation. I was feeling.
He slammed me down hard and I was soaring, bowing back into an almost unnatural shape, free-falling and unable to breathe. He was still pounding into me, or maybe pounding me onto him, but it was blurry through the flames licking me, burrowing into my skin and igniting my bones. When I started to come down, he angled his hips, hitting a spot deep inside me that had me hissing and spitting like a savage cat.
He was saying something but I couldn’t make out the words over the roaring in my head. Or maybe that roaring was him. He pulled me down hard, holding me fast with a biting strength, and his whole body gave one final jerk. I collapsed forward, my forehead hitting his shoulder with a thud. After a second he leaned back, stretching out his legs, pulling my body close to his and tucking my head into his neck as we struggled to catch our breath.
“What the fuck is it with you?” he muttered again, and I grinned into his sweaty skin, my eyes drifting closed.
* * *
“Your lame ass shouldn’t be carrying me,” I mumbled into his throat a while later. How much later, I didn’t know. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.
“Your scrawny ass should think about putting on some weight.”
I grunted in reply, squeezing his hips with my thighs. He hissed and pinched my ass with the hand gripping it.
When we got to my bed, he sat down, still holding on to me as he leaned back, arranging us so I was sprawled across his chest like his own personal blanket. I would have protested if I hadn’t been so comfortable.
“What’s your problem with boxers?” he whispered after a minute, brushing the hair back from my face. I frowned because it was too gentle of a gesture for him. He wrapped the locks around his fist, and even though he didn’t move it, it tugged a little and my frown slipped and I sighed. It was as close to dreamy as a girl like me would ever get.
I shrugged. “Never came across a decent one.”
He snorted. “And you’re decent?”
“Not even close. Grab that sheet. I’m cold.”
He reached over with his free hand and pulled it across my back. I lifted my head for a second and looked at him, amused at the sight of him against my blue flannel sheets with the stars on them. He looked ridiculous. Charmingly so. Or as close to charming as a guy like him would ever get.
“So. You’re not decent. You’ve never met a decent boxer. Yet you hate them,” he continued.
“Yep.” I laid my head back down, burying it in the crook of his neck, and breathed in the scent there. Soap and sweat and something else that might have just been Luke.
“No sense.”
“Doesn’t have to.”
“You know a lot of boxers?”
“Enough.”
I felt a rumble underneath my chest and realized he was laughing. It was a deep, thundering sound. “You’re worse than I am,” he said.
I nodded, not really sure what I was agreeing to. “Now shut up,” I ordered against his skin. He laughed again, lowly, and I closed my eyes, letting myself drift away to the sound of it in my ears.
Chapter Nine
I woke up slowly, comfortably warm with dreams dancing along the edges of my consciousness. I wasn’t used to it, the feeling of warmth. I never realized how
I was lost and drowning in the flames. His arm banded around my waist once more and he bounced me up and down. I threw my head back, clenching my eyes shut, and wrapped my arms as far around his neck as I could reach from my position. His mouth latched on to my collarbone and he nipped at it, and why the fuck did that feel so good?
Pressure was building up inside me and I couldn’t think around it, couldn’t think around the need for release, for that pressure to finally explode. I was sensation. I was feeling.
He slammed me down hard and I was soaring, bowing back into an almost unnatural shape, free-falling and unable to breathe. He was still pounding into me, or maybe pounding me onto him, but it was blurry through the flames licking me, burrowing into my skin and igniting my bones. When I started to come down, he angled his hips, hitting a spot deep inside me that had me hissing and spitting like a savage cat.
He was saying something but I couldn’t make out the words over the roaring in my head. Or maybe that roaring was him. He pulled me down hard, holding me fast with a biting strength, and his whole body gave one final jerk. I collapsed forward, my forehead hitting his shoulder with a thud. After a second he leaned back, stretching out his legs, pulling my body close to his and tucking my head into his neck as we struggled to catch our breath.
“What the fuck is it with you?” he muttered again, and I grinned into his sweaty skin, my eyes drifting closed.
* * *
“Your lame ass shouldn’t be carrying me,” I mumbled into his throat a while later. How much later, I didn’t know. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.
“Your scrawny ass should think about putting on some weight.”
I grunted in reply, squeezing his hips with my thighs. He hissed and pinched my ass with the hand gripping it.
When we got to my bed, he sat down, still holding on to me as he leaned back, arranging us so I was sprawled across his chest like his own personal blanket. I would have protested if I hadn’t been so comfortable.
“What’s your problem with boxers?” he whispered after a minute, brushing the hair back from my face. I frowned because it was too gentle of a gesture for him. He wrapped the locks around his fist, and even though he didn’t move it, it tugged a little and my frown slipped and I sighed. It was as close to dreamy as a girl like me would ever get.
I shrugged. “Never came across a decent one.”
He snorted. “And you’re decent?”
“Not even close. Grab that sheet. I’m cold.”
He reached over with his free hand and pulled it across my back. I lifted my head for a second and looked at him, amused at the sight of him against my blue flannel sheets with the stars on them. He looked ridiculous. Charmingly so. Or as close to charming as a guy like him would ever get.
“So. You’re not decent. You’ve never met a decent boxer. Yet you hate them,” he continued.
“Yep.” I laid my head back down, burying it in the crook of his neck, and breathed in the scent there. Soap and sweat and something else that might have just been Luke.
“No sense.”
“Doesn’t have to.”
“You know a lot of boxers?”
“Enough.”
I felt a rumble underneath my chest and realized he was laughing. It was a deep, thundering sound. “You’re worse than I am,” he said.
I nodded, not really sure what I was agreeing to. “Now shut up,” I ordered against his skin. He laughed again, lowly, and I closed my eyes, letting myself drift away to the sound of it in my ears.
Chapter Nine
I woke up slowly, comfortably warm with dreams dancing along the edges of my consciousness. I wasn’t used to it, the feeling of warmth. I never realized how
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