Chapter 15

Gavin

I kissed the inside of her knee, wondering how one woman could wind me up so tightly. All I wanted was to sink inside her, but Kenna needed to be shown how good a man could be to her first. If we had sex again, there’d be no way for me to get inside her heart. And that was my end goal.

“Gavin.” She moaned my name as though she was on the verge of breaking, and I’d yet to get to the good stuff. I moved my lips higher and higher, until her legs were propped over my shoulders and my nose was buried against her pussy. I inhaled and shut my eyes. “Tell me yes. Tell me I can taste you.”

“God, Gavin, please. Do it now.”

The first dip of my tongue had her arching her back. By the time I parted her folds with my fingers, she was scissoring my neck with her knees, both thighs going tight around my head.

I loved every fucking minute of the pain.

She gripped the edges of the counter as though she was scared of falling, her chest rising and falling with heavy pants. Wanting her to feel secure, safe, I lowered one hand under her ass, then squeezed.

“Fuck yes,” she whispered, the dirty mouth I remembered from the first night we’d spent together coming back like lighting in a storm.

I groaned. Every time she moved, I went faster. I had a reaction to go along with every one of her actions, so in tune with her body that I didn’t ever want to stop. She moved one of her hands to grip my hair, tugging me closer, smothering me against her. I could hardly breathe, but that’s exactly what I wanted.

Removing my hand from her ass, I pushed it around front, splaying it over her stomach. For a half second, while my palm settled over her belly button, she froze—locked down, really. Thinking I’d messed up, I pulled my hand away and dropped it to my side, only for her to arch her pussy harder against my mouth.

Just the thought of upsetting her had my nails digging into my palms, my tongue moving faster, my lips sucking harder. I wouldn’t hurt her. Physically, emotionally, anyway. I wanted her to feel good. I wanted her to remember this. Love this as much as I did.

She cried out my name, just as her legs shook beside my ears. “Oh my God, oh my God, Gavin, yes…” And just like last time, she came hard on a scream.

I nuzzled my nose against her clit, savoring the taste of her on my tongue, just in time for her to finally relax.

She covered her eyes with an arm, head tipped back. “Jesus, St. James.”

“You okay?” I smiled when she nodded.

“More than okay.” She propped herself up on both elbows and looked up at me when I stood. Thighs parted, pussy bare, she looked the way any gorgeous, sated woman should look after a good orgasm: fucking beautiful.

“Yeah?” I leaned down to grab her panties, helping her slip them up and over her legs. “I must be damn good at getting you off, then.”

When I reached for her shorts, she shook her head and stood, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Thank you.”

I froze for a second, not used to the affection. Then when I realized she wasn’t going to pull away, I shut my eyes, savoring the rare moment. “For what?”

“For…being here.”

I hated the hesitation in her voice, needed to see her face, to know what she was thinking, more than anything. McKenna was a hard person to read, which wasn’t good for a guy who didn’t take cues well.

“Hey.” I pulled back and pressed my hands to her cheeks. Her soft eyes met mine, glistening with tears. “What’s wrong?”

She quickly shook her head and tugged on her shorts. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” She sniffled, and my back stiffened.

“But you’re crying.”

“Am not.”

“Liar.”

She shoved at my chest playfully, but I only moved back enough to see her face again. “It’s just been a while, is all.”

“A while since you last had an orgasm?”

“At least that way.” Her cheeks turned pink.

“So…you laugh when someone is hurting or in pain, yet you cry when something feels good.” I rubbed her chin, holding her face with my other palm. “You are pretty much the weirdest, most wonderful woman I know.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed my hand—the one against her cheek. “And you have things to do, remember?” She tugged me to the door behind her, her ass so fucking gorgeous in those shorts that I wanted to fall to my knees and worship it. Hell, I wanted to worship every inch of this woman. But I needed to earn something first: her trust.

I knew I couldn’t do that by continually pushing for more when she was obviously scared of commitment. That mean meant I needed to do this her way—and mine.

Compromise the best way I knew how.

She turned the handle on the door, and this time, I didn’t fight her about leaving. “Six. Be ready.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek, lingering for a minute when she reached forward to grab the bottom of my tee. She held me close, her fingers tight on the fabric. It was as though her head was fighting her heart about something.

Before she could decide which part of her body she wanted to side with, I turned and made the decision for her by walking out the door. I knew she was watching me walk away though—could almost feel her eyes burning into the back of my head.

I could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind.

* * *

McKenna

Holy crap. I’m falling for my baby’s daddy.

Those were the first thoughts that hit me as soon as I shut the door to my apartment and leaned back against the wood. I had either lost my mind or was on the verge of losing it, because there was no way in hell I could possibly be falling for this guy already.

I barely knew him.

Well, that’d be a tiny lie, because I did know him, rather well actually. Not just from firsthand experience, but from Addie too.

Gavin’s so quiet.

Gavin’s so protective.

Gavin’s so smart.

Gavin, Gavin, Gavin.

Blah, blah, blah.

“Ugh.” I flopped onto the couch, internally cursing the voice of my best friend. She might have known Gavin from a friend’s point of view. But had she ever stayed up half the night talking to the guy? Had she ever kissed him or held his hand? Had she ever looked into his eyes and realized that she wasn’t alone in the world after all?

“Of course not. That’d be me.” I covered my face with my palms, wanting to scream or cry or throw something. Yet my dishes were already cracked and on the floor, and I couldn’t find the energy to pick them up—let alone toss them.

Thinking maybe I needed a reminder about all things bad relationships, I headed to my room, reaching for the Forbidden Box of Shame at the top of my closet. If there ever was a time to encourage myself not to feel something for a man, this was it. Gavin was a great guy, as far as I could tell. In fact, I knew his perfect woman was somewhere out there. Someone patient and caring. Someone loving, who wouldn’t run every time he gave her an extraordinary orgasm. Someone who would make him happy in a way I could not.

Gavin and I were like a bomb waiting to explode.

One that was, again, currently the size of a pea in my stomach.

As I sat on my bed in my room, I fingered the lid of the old shoebox before slowly opening it. This beat-up thing held crap from all my mistaken relationships. Whenever someone broke up with me, or I broke up with them, I saved a memento reaffirming the fact that they were not the man for me.

Breath held, I pulled out the first item. A money clip made of pure silver with his initials engraved on the front. The money clip I’d given him two weeks after he told me he loved me. Two weeks before I found him in bed with another woman.

Paul.

The one guy I thought I could trust—the nerd with the cute dimple and the ability to wreck me emotionally. I cried for weeks over Paul. Nearly drank myself into oblivion and broke my iPod with all the depressing music I played on it. Princess Paul is what I’d labeled him at first—a diva inside an Armani suit. He was the final reason I’d sworn off men altogether. But he wasn’t the first one to leave me questioning my ability to pick something other than garbage when it came to guys in my life.

Using the limited nails I had left, I picked up the ziplock bag with the money clip inside, disgusted with myself for even keeping it. Shaking my head, I tossed it in the garbage can next to my bed.

“Take that, Paul.”

Next, I pulled out a napkin from McDonald’s for Asshole Abe—the starving artist who turned out to be not so starving after all. Instead, he’d been a trust-fund baby who didn’t believe in spending money on his girlfriends—like me. It was on our one-year anniversary, when he said surprise and took me to Mickey D’s, saying he’d be splurging on a dollar hot fudge sundae for me, that I realized I did not, in fact, want to continue our relationship.

Then there was Dickhead Daniel, who called out another woman’s name during sex. I’d stolen his mix tape called Cock Rock from his nineteen-whatever Dodge Omni. It really was a good tape—one I’d still listen to if I had something to play it on.

As I went through all my collected goods, I couldn’t help but laugh, and yeah, tear up on occasion. I’d done a bang-up job picking boyfriends, but what would happen if Gavin turned out to be different? Did I somehow know this already, and that was the reason for my messed-up, confusing emotions? Or was I just pregnant and looking for a reason to think positively when the negative thoughts were stacking up like Legos?

I sighed, tossing the box onto the floor, just as my cell rang. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, not Addie or Emma. But when I saw my mother’s name light up on the screen, my heart jumped into my throat with fear and worry. The lady never called for the hell of it.

Something was wrong.