“What about STIs?” I counter. I hate that it sounds like I’m searching for an excuse to put a stop to this, but if Iwasgoing tolook for an out—a reason to walk away—this would be it. I could still say no before I lose myself for good.
She stiffens. “I hope this isn’t your way of telling me you really do have the clap.”
“Are peoplesayingthat?” I gasp, clutching metaphorical pearls, like I’m channeling my mother and she was just told her favorite perfume has been discontinued.
Blondie shakes her head. “Just Ronnie.”
“How shocking,” I deadpan, failing to hide my glower. “But to answer your question, no. I do not and haveneverhad the clap or any other sexually transmitted disease. I’m one hundred percent clean. Besides, I’ve only been with you since that day you nearly kicked my balls off my body. The, er, second time,” I amend.
Blondie snorts. “You’re the only person I’ve been with my entire time at Conwick.”
My jaw drops. “No way. Really?”
I suppose I’m not surprised she didn’t sleep with anyone else after the whole scandal with the bet—if I was in her shoes, that would’ve put me off penises, too—but before that? We’re talking a solid six months from the time she started at Conwick when she could’ve been going to Pound Town.
But then Ronnie’s words at the party the other night fill my head—about Blondie’s dickhead ex and how she’s so used to being let down that she never lets people in—and suddenly, I’m filled with a deep self-loathing that I became just another one of those people…
And a determination never to be that again.
Impatience wrinkles Blondie’s brow, and she averts her gaze, but she can’t hide the blush sweeping over her cheeks, leaving the skin a sexy burnished red. “Don’t let it go to your head or anything,” she mutters. Then, scowling at me, she adds, “Are we doing this or what?”
With a throaty chuckle, I sink back onto my forearms, and when my body brackets hers, those perfect, tantalizing breasts rub against my chest. So much for self-preservation. God, I am so fucked. “Only if you keep being bossy,” I purr, giving her an impish smile. “It’s quite the turn-on, you know.”
We don’t speak anymore after that, and any concerns she had about my abuela hearing us are long forgotten as I push my jeans and briefs down and sink into the welcoming heat of her.
I’ve wondered what this would feel like since that morning in September when I woke up to find her in my bed. I’ve wanted to remember how it feels to be inside her since I realized who she was on the list. And fucking her is just as good, if not better, than I imagined—or remembered—it would be. Blondie’s body molds to mine like we were made to go together, our every movement perfectly in sync. My only regret is that we push our clothes out of the way instead of fully taking them off, so I miss out on the feeling of her naked skin—of seeing those gorgeous breasts bared to the world. In spite of that, Blondie is a sight to behold, moaning and writhing beneath me, and it’s a struggle to hold out for as long as I do. Thankfully, when I do come, she’s right there with me, pressing her mouth into my shoulder to muffle her cry.
“Fuck,” she breathes when I flop down on my back beside her a moment later. “That was…”
“Yeah,” I agree, my chest heaving.
An unfamiliar tingle of nerves ties my already tense stomach in knots. This would normally be the part where my hook-up for the evening would leave. Or I would, depending on where we were. But this? This is unchartered territory, and I don’t know how to react. Or what I should assume.
I opt for the safe option. Thesmartoption.
Lifting my hips, I yank up my jeans, and move to slide off the mattress.
“Where are you going?” Blondie asks, propping herself up on one elbow.
“I just figured you wouldn’t want me to stay,” I answer in the most detached tone I can manage.
Her eyes narrow as if she can see through my bullshit. “You can if you want. I’m not that heartless that I’d fuck you and then kick you out of bed.”
I snort. “How romantic of you.”
Blondie collapses onto the bedspread with an exasperated sigh. “Do youwantto go?”
Yes,the smart part of me tries to say. But the stupid part, the part that knows this is a very bad idea, takes control of my voice first.
“I mean, itisa long walk back to my room.” At Blondie’s skeptical glance, I shrug. “This is a large house.”
She sits up again with a grunt, then grabs my arm and pulls me back down with her until we’re lying side by side on the bed. “Then stay, you idiot,” she scolds. “Besides”—she snuggles closer to me, rubbing her face against my bicep—“you’re warm.”
I blink down at her in surprise—at the way she’s wrapped herself around me like she’s some kind of human koala bear. “Huh,” I muse. “I wouldnothave taken you for a cuddler.”
She scowls at me, those green eyes flashing with warning. “Shut up,” she grumbles.
It takes some encouragement, seeing as back-to-back orgasms have Blondie on the verge of a coma, but I convince her to scooch up the bed and get under the covers. The second we’re both repositioned and settled, she contorts her body to mine again, firmly gluing herself to my side.
