Chapter 12
Blakely
It takes more than a little inner encouragement to step out of my bedroom the next morning. My heart is hammering in my throat as I make the seemingly-endless procession from my room to the kitchen.
He kissed me last night.
He pressed me into his body, sealing me in his warmth, and he kissed me. He stole the breath from my lungs, he stole the strength from my knees and he bruised my mouth with his full, solid, electric lips. His tongue barged into my mouth and set my whole body on fire.
My virgin cunt wept, aching from wanting to feel his fingers and his shaft in me. I had never been so horny, so ready to be fucked.
And boy, did I have lots to write about when I crawled under my covers. The words just flew off of my fingertips as my characters came alive. Halfway through my writing sprint, my hips were circling against the comforter, moving on their own. Sliding a pillow between my legs and rubbing my pussy against it only made me hornier. I was so hot that I had to put my computer aside and give myself a quiet orgasm that just barely relieved the tension growing inside of me. It wasn't enough. I'm still buzzing, still aching for him. My body is so wound up.
I freeze in the entrance to the kitchen, sensations firing and misfiring through my blood as I watch him working at the sink. He's shirtless with sweatpants hanging low on his toned, round ass. The muscles in his back work overtime, bunching and relaxing as he scrubs the burnt pizza off of the baking tray from last night's cooking disaster. The faint smell of charred dough and tomato sauce still lingers in the air, adding to the discomfort in my throat. The washing machine churns away in the corner.
The urge to run back into my room is so strong. I want to hide from the intense desire I feel for him. When you've held onto your virginity for as long as I have, you’re quite familiar with the perils of sexual frustration. But this feeling is different. It's intense and all-consuming and it's directed exclusively at the man sharing these four walls with me.
Yes, Blakely…the man sharing these four walls with you. Your roommate. The guy you have to face everyday. Get yourself together, girl!
"Good morning." My voice cracks as I muster the fortitude to step into the kitchen.
Nicholas shuts off the pipe and grabs the towel from the hook as he turns to face me. "Good morning, Blakely, " he rasps.
My temperature spikes at the sensation of his eyes on me. He’s so intense. So virile.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks as he leans a hip against the counter and trains his full attention on me.
I nod because no words can squeeze past the enormous knot in my throat. I set my computer on the table and plug it into the charger.
“I hope I didn’t wake you up with the washing machine.” He tips his chin in the direction of the washer.
“No. No, you didn’t.”
Two large strides and he's standing so close I can feel waves of heat radiating off of his body. "How's your writing going?"
I blush and my chest rises on a sharp intake of air. "Good." I can’t believe that someone knows about my writing. It’s been my biggest secret for the longest time. And now, here I am discussing it with Nicholas.
Disappointment comes to his face. His mouth turns down and his eyes fill with remorse. "I was kind of hoping it was going to shit."
I laugh in shock at his bluntness. "What? Why?"
He licks his lips discreetly and his voice turns husky. "Because I was hoping that you still needed inspiration…” His tone drops lower. “I really want to kiss you again." His focus latches onto my mouth and he honest-to-god looks like he's about to eat me whole. He traces a finger across my bottom lip. "You're so fucking delicious."
I turn the color of beets and stumble backward. I gaze up at him from under my lashes, feeling silly over my reaction. He literally makes me weak in the knees. “I-I’m good for now,” I stammer breathlessly. It’s a lie. I’ve run out of ideas again and my manuscript has stalled.
A determined look shapes his brow. He leans in close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath on my lips. "Oh, well. I guess there’s always next time…If you ever find yourself hunched over that keyboard in the middle of the night and drawing a blank, you know where to find me." With that, he turns to pad toward the hallway.
Lord – I have never felt such an urge to tear off my panties and offer myself up. This man is going to break me. I feel the space between my legs growing slippery with need.
I don't know what possesses me in that moment, but I can’t let him just leave. There's an otherworldly force pushing me forward. "Nicholas. Wait..."
He stops and faces me. My heart drums erratically and shaky strides draw me to him. What the hell am I doing? The heat of his body seems to reach out and draw me closer. My nervous tongue swipes my lips. I want to kiss him. I want to reach up and pull his face to mine, feel his fuzzy cheeks under my fingertips. Instead, I stand there, mute with anxiety.
The pad of his finger touches the corner of my mouth and slowly traces the outline of my top lip and then my bottom lip. "Blakely, I'll ask you again – how's your writing going?"
I swallow against the urge to lie. Instead, I retreat from his reach and log into my computer. "I've hit another wall," I say as I angle the screen toward him. "They've kissed, but now I don't know what should happen next." Frustrated, I shove my fingers through my hair as he leans over the table, perusing the screen.
I watch his profile as he reads. Thin lines appear on his face. Concentration is so damn sexy on him. The temptation to run my hands over the ropey muscles of his back, to press my breasts to his ribs is strong.
He straightens up and faces me, completely silent, his eyes fixed on mine.
"What...?" I ask in a quiet voice so afraid that he'll tell me I have no talent and I should pick up a new hobby.
My eyes dip to the floor. But on their way down, they catch on something; his growing erection under the soft fabric of his sweatpants.
"Let me show you, Blakely." He coils his fingers around mine. "I want to show you what happens next."
I gasp, my nipples tingling at the offer. "Nicholas..."
My belly clenches needily as his hand climbs the back of my neck, pulling my face closer. His lips brush across mine, so quick, so soft I feel my chest curving closer for more contact. Even with my eyes closed, I can tell that he's smiling. He's toying with me. But I don’t want to play.
I push forward and this time, his mouth crashes down on mine. A range of lusty sensations sweep through my body. His tongue presses past my lips and tangles with mine. He holds me flush to his bare chest and I feel the heavy thud of his heart vibrating between us.
Sounds I'm not familiar with pour out of my body. This is all so new, so disorienting. For a moment, it feels like I'm living someone else's life. Maybe one of the heroines from one of my books. But then, I hear Nicholas groan my name as his hands slide down the bend of my spine, and I'm reminded that it's me, in my kitchen, with my roommate.
Winded, I pull back slightly and he rests his forehead on mine.
"I was aching all night to kiss you again, Blakely. I was dreaming about tasting this soft little pink mouth." He tastes me again with deep and languid strokes of his tongue. When he breaks the kiss, I sway on weak knees. He sits his hand on my waist and his fingers crawl across my sensitive flesh. "Let's explore this story together, Blakely. Let's take this piece of fiction and turn it into a fucking biography."
I twist a lock of hair around my finger as anxiety riots in my belly. "I want that," I groan, knowing it's time to tell him the truth. "But Nicholas…I'm a virgin."