Ugly Love Page 45

Now he’s laying me on his bed.

Now he’s on top of me, brushing my hair back, looking me in the eyes. “And I realized that you never have a day off.” His mouth is back to my jaw again, kissing it softly between each sentence. “You haven’t had a day off since Thanksgiving, have you?”

I shake my head, not understanding why he’s talking so much but loving it just the same. His hand slides up under my shirt, and his palm meets my stomach, continuing upward until he’s cupping my breast. “You must be really tired, Tate.”

I shake my head. “Not really.”

I’m lying.

I’m exhausted.

His lips leave my neck, and he looks me in the eyes. “You’re lying,” he says, brushing his thumb over the thin layer of bra covering my nipple. “I can tell you’re tired.” He lowers his mouth until it’s pressed against mine so softly I barely even feel it. “I just want to kiss you for a few minutes, okay? Then you’re going to leave and go get some rest. I don’t want you to think I expect something just because we’re both home.”

His mouth touches mine again, but his lips can’t compare to what his words do to me. I never knew thoughtfulness could be such a turn-on.

But oh, my God. It’s so hot.

His hand slides beneath my bra, and his mouth invades me. Every time his tongue caresses mine, it makes my head spin. I wonder if that will ever get old.

I know he said he just wanted to kiss me for a few minutes, but his definition of kiss and my definition of kiss are written in two different languages. His mouth is everywhere.

So are his hands.

He pushes my shirt up above my bra, pulling one side of it down until my breast is exposed. He teases me with his tongue, looking up at me while he does it. His mouth is warm, and his tongue is even warmer, causing soft whimpers to escape from me.

He runs his hand down my stomach and lifts slightly off of me, holding his weight up on his elbow. His hand trails over my jeans until he reaches the insides of my thighs. He runs his fingers against the material between my legs, and I let my head fall back and my eyes close.

Good Lord, I love his version of kissing.

He begins to rub his hand over me, pressing firmly against my jeans until my entire body is silently begging for him. His mouth is no longer on my breast. It’s on my neck now, and he’s kissing, nibbling, sucking, all in one spot, as if he’s trying to brand me.

I’m trying to be quiet, but it’s impossible when he’s creating this amazing friction between us. But that’s fine, because he’s not being quiet, either. Every time I moan, he groans or sighs or whispers my name. Which is why I’m being so loud, because I love his sounds.

Love them.

His hand quickly moves to the button on my jeans, and he unbuttons them, but he doesn’t switch positions or move away from my neck. He pulls my zipper down and slides his hands on top of my panties. He resumes the same movements, only this time they’re a million times more intense, and I can instantly tell he isn’t going to have to do it for much longer.

My back arches off the bed, and it takes all I have not to pull away from his hand. It’s as if he knows exactly the right places to touch that will make me react.

“Christ, Tate. You’re so wet.” Two of his fingers pull my panties aside. “I want to feel you.”

And that’s it.

I’m a goner.

His finger slips inside me, but his thumb remains outside, coaxing moans and oh, my Gods and don’t stops out of me like I’m a broken record. He kisses me, swallowing all my sounds while my body begins to tremble beneath his hand.

The sensation lasts so long and is so intense I’m afraid to let go of him when it’s over. I don’t want his hand to leave me. I want to fall asleep like this.

I’m completely still, but we’re both breathing so heavily we’re unable to move. His mouth is still on mine, and our eyes are closed, but he’s not kissing me. After a few moments, he finally pulls his hand out of my pants, then zips and buttons them back up. When I open my eyes, he’s slowly sliding his fingers out of his mouth with a grin.

Holy shit.

I’m so glad I’m not standing up right now, or seeing him do that would have made me fall straight to the floor.

“Wow,” I say as I exhale. “You’re pretty damn good at this.”

He smiles even wider. “Why, thank you,” he says. He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Now, go home and get some sleep, girl.”

He begins to lift off the bed, and I grab his arms and pull him back down. “Wait,” I tell him. I push him onto his back and slide on top of him. “That’s not really fair to you.”

“I’m not keeping score,” he says, rolling me onto my back. “Corbin’s probably wondering why you’re still over here.” He stands up and grabs my wrists to pull me up with him. He pulls me against him close enough for me to tell he isn’t at all ready for me to leave yet.

“If Corbin says anything, I’ll just tell him I didn’t want to leave until I was finished with my homework.”

Miles shakes his head. “You need to go back, Tate,” he says. “He thanked me for protecting you from Dillon earlier. How do you think he’d feel if he knew I only did that because I was being selfish and wanted you all to myself?”

I shake my head. “I don’t care how he’d feel. It’s not his business.”

Miles brings his hands to my cheeks. “I care. He’s my friend. I don’t want him to find out what a hypocrite I am.” He kisses my forehead and pulls me out of the bedroom before I can respond. He gathers my books and hands them to me when I reach the front door, but before I walk out, he grabs my elbow and stops me. He’s staring down at me, but there’s something else in his expression this time.

Something in his eyes that isn’t desire or want or disappointment or intimidation. It’s something unspoken. Something he wants to say to me that he’s too afraid to say.