“Last time,” I say sternly. I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him of this or myself. But I know the last thing I need right now is a relationship. Even if the sex is really, really good.
“Then we better make it count.” He winks, and without warning, he pulls me into his house, slams the door behind us, and throws me over his shoulder.
“Zeke!” I slap his back, kicking my legs to try and get him to put me down. “What are you doing?”
“Bringing you to my room.”
“We’re doing this now?”
“When did you think we were gonna do this?”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“You’ve never had sex in the middle of the day?” He stops halfway up the stairs. “Even more of a reason to do this now. You don’t know what you’re missing out on until you’ve had sex in the middle of the day.”
“What if someone comes home?”
He carries me to his room, and once we get there, he tosses me onto his bed. It’s giving me a sense of Déjà vu.
“Nothing they aren’t used to.” He shrugs.
“Zeke!”
“They won’t be home for at least another two hours.” I don’t know if he’s just saying that or being honest. “I swear.”
I stare at the closed door and then look back toward the very bare and very sexy tattooed body standing in front of me. It’s like Zeke reads me without me having to say a word, dropping my bag by his door and walking toward me like a man on a mission.
He pushes me back onto his bed, and his mouth makes a beeline for the spot below my ear he was just talking about. I can’t help but laugh.
“Oh, so it’s funny now?”
“No.” I try to hold back my laughter. “It’s not. It’s sexy, very sexy, I just—”
He cuts me off by sinking his teeth into that same spot, but not in the same way he did it the other night; this time, it’s almost playful. But I still let out a small yelp.
“That’s what I thought,” he replies, but he has a smile of his own as he pushes off the bed to stand at the end. “Do you need help taking off your sweatshirt? Because it’s feeling a little unfair here.”
He motions to his bare chest and then to my fully clothed body. I’m wearing a sweatshirt. A very unsexy sweatshirt. And I don’t even have sexy underwear on. Sure, I’m not wearing granny panties, thank god, but what I’m wearing isn’t much better. Not that he has any right to judge what I’m wearing. I usually dress it up a bit more if I know I’ll be sleeping with someone. It makes me feel good about myself.
“You know I don’t care what you’re wearing, right?” he asks, and that’s when I realize I’ve just been staring at him. “Or what’s under what I can currently see. It’s just gonna end up on my floor anyway.”
He’s right. He’s not even going to see me in my underwear long enough to realize I’m not wearing sexy lingerie.
My sweatshirt ends up on his floor first, and my t-shirt follows right behind. Zeke's eyes stay on me with each piece ofclothing that falls to the floor. And they continue to follow me as I crawl to the end of his bed, staying on my knees to meet him eye to eye.
I raise my hands, hoping he gets the memo that I want him to take off my bra. It’s not a sexy bra that clasps in the back, but it’s also not a sports bra, so I got lucky in that regard.
He gets the message.
His fingers hook under the sides of the bra and push up, his thumbs grazing my bare breasts as he does so. Goosebumps form along my arms as he pushes the bra over my head, throwing it onto the ground with the rest of my discarded items.
His eyes never leave mine.
Not even with my bare chest just inches from his current eyeline.
They stay on me as he pops the button of my jeans open.
It’s a simple action, but how he looks at me makes it the sexiest thing any man has ever done.