Lyrics that Burn, page 11
“If I was being mean, I’d take the rest of this and not give you another sip. Nor would I let you hang out on my bed.” He moves to snuggle next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders and tucking me into his side. The warmth radiating from him, plus the heat from the hot chocolate, has me melting against him. He’s so damn comfortable.
He reaches for the mug, and I hand it to him. “If I share my secret two a.m. guilty pleasure with you every morning, will you let me stay in here with you?”
“Fat chance, mister. But I may let you cuddle with me until it’s finished,” I offer with a laugh.
“I’ve never enjoyed the prospect of a sleepless night so much,” he murmurs, handing me the cup for my turn.
“You can’t sleep?” I know Blake mentioned it, but I don’t want to give away his slip. I could tell he felt bad about it.
“I had a rough childhood, and it seems to demand I relive it every night in my dreams.” The lightness seems to drain from him, and I instantly regret asking him about it. “I’m guessing it’s the same for you. Bad memories haunting you whenever you close your eyes.”
He hits a little too close to home. “Nightmares practically every night,” I whisper.
Nash nods in understanding. I hand the cup back to him, but he pushes it toward my mouth. “You can have the rest, roomie.” He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I finish what’s left and set the mug on the nightstand. “Turn off the light, and I’ll stay until you fall asleep. I’ll even guard your dreams if you want me to.”
I smile at him, the offer warming my heart more than the hot chocolate did. “My monster going to keep all the other monsters away for me?”
“You better believe it,” he growls, settling himself on my bed. He holds his arm out, making it clear he’s offering for me to lie on his chest. I do exactly that, even if a voice in the back of my head says it’s the start of a slippery slope. I get comfortable, finding I’m conflicted that he’s over the covers when I’m under them. It’s constricting, but probably for the best. The moment I rest my hand on his abs, he grabs it up, lacing our fingers together.
Nash’s other fingertips trail through my hair, and a peacefulness descends on me. I can’t remember a time I’ve felt safer sleeping with someone else. Not since Tristan, anyway.
“No spending the night, Nash,” I tell him, my eyelids becoming heavy.
“No spending the night, Raina.” He brushes a kiss to my head, and I drift closer to sleep. “But I’ll always protect you from your nightmares. You can count on me. Forever.”
A yawn takes possession of my mouth, making it gape open obnoxiously as I walk into the kitchen. Nash offered his monster services before I went to bed, but my stubborn ass declined. I don’t need him getting any ideas about me needing him when I secretly do, if my lack of sleep since the other night is anything to go by.
I’m too tired this morning; my restless night turned into a wet pillow as my mind obsessed over the thoughts I was trying to avoid by sleeping. It’s a vicious cycle, and there’s no winning. I fought falling asleep as long as I could, wanting to be exhausted to the point of gaining a dreamless night. It worked, but the cost is already catching up to me. I’ll be paying for it all damn day.
Stumbling to the coffee bar, I find two cups already waiting for me and syrup positioned behind them. Keaton made his selection clear, and my amusement at how well he communicates without a word tugs at my lips. I shouldn’t, but I long for his rarely spoken words. Each one feels like a reward.
I stare at the cup he picked out for me, but know it won’t be enough. Not when I’m this exhausted. Moving to the cabinet with the cups, I lift to my toes and reach for one of the obnoxiously large ones, I’m talking fish bowl size. I’m not sure why I even try to grasp it. I already know I won’t be able to grab one.
With a sigh, I lower, and right as I’m about to spin to get a chair to stand on, warm hands land on my hips. It’s become a habit of mine to come downstairs in a T-shirt and panties. Mostly because I enjoy the flash of self loathing every time Tristan catches himself checking me out, but also because my heart speeds up with the heated glances Keaton gives me from the corner of his eye when he’s cooking.
Like the first time, Keaton’s hands find their way under my shirt, touching my bare skin and sending shivers along my spine. I’m not sure how I missed seeing him, the evidence of him already being here was clear as day. I blame my sleep deprived state. It’s also what I blame for what I do next. My hands press against the counter, and I stick my ass into his crotch. Tilting my head back, I blink flirtatiously, finding his gaze.
“Keaton,” I breathe out. His name tastes sweet on my lips, which I lick as if I can chase the flavor of him. The sleep deprivation has me delirious since I’ve never tasted him. Although, I want to. So fucking badly.
His fingers flex against my hips, and there’s amusement in his eyes. He lifts me, my body gliding along his, and I turn my head to be able to keep watching him. His gaze pointedly turns from my face to the cabinet. Grab your cup, it says. But there’s an even deeper message below the one he’s portraying. One that I can’t quite put words to yet, they’re right out of my grasp, but I’ll figure them out sooner or later.
Once I have my larger-than-life coffee cup in hand, he surprises me by carrying me to the espresso machine. I’m not prepared for it, and my free hand reaches for his arm, worried he’ll drop me. I shouldn’t have, though. He securely holds me until I’m standing on my own two feet.
And yet, he remains behind me. The heat of his body soaking into my T-shirt, not to mention his hands on my hips. It makes it hard to breathe, but that’s because I’m overanalyzing every little shift; the way his thumbs move back and forth; how he leans closer so he can watch what I’m doing from over my shoulder; his exhales tumbling over my collarbone where it’s exposed from the too-big shirt.
Each morning we spend together, it seems he’s found some way to allow his touch to linger on me. But it hasn’t been anything like today. The tension between us has built to a boiling point, and yet, barely a handful of words have been spoken between us.
His nose dips to run along my neck, and he takes in a deep sniff. A pleased grunt spills from him. You smell nice.
My hands shake as I lock the tool holding the grounds into the machine. “Thank you.” I’m not sure why I answer the imaginary words I hear from him, but he doesn’t seem upset by it. In fact, his hands press my ass into him in something that feels strangely like a hug.
When I finish making his coffee, his hands grip tightly, his fingers biting into my skin. Do yours too, then we can move.
A sigh escapes me, and I work on making mine, too. I must be crazy, hearing his silky voice in my head the way I do. It’s way too soon to know someone so well that you know what they are saying like this. Especially when I don’t have a plethora of experience of him speaking. I swear we have some kind of strange connection.
“Now can I move?” I ask, holding both steaming mugs. Mine is twice the size of his. A chuckle rumbles from the center of his chest, and his fingers flex. “Don’t you dare pick me up while I’m holding these. If you make me spill even one precious drop, I’ll withhold my amazing coffee skills from you for the next week.”
“Then put them down, Raina.” My heart lurches with the sound of his voice, the words rushing over me like liquid silk. I’ll be replaying them in my mind all damn day. Okay, probably more like all week. For sure, until the next time he says something to me.
My knees go weak, and my hands tremble so badly, I splash myself with the hot liquid. The ceramic meets the marble counter with a harsh clank, and I spin to face him. His eyes glow with amusement, and he smirks at me. I’m suddenly at a loss for words, his stunning features catching me off guard every time. It’s like I get to see him for the first time each morning. Something I never grow weary of.
His hands slide from my hips to my ass, and my breath catches in my throat. I’m lost in the dark depths of his eyes as he stares down at me. Before I know it, he’s picking me up, and my legs naturally wrap around him. My hands move to his shoulders, and I have to resist the desire to run my fingers through his silky hair. The dark roots and ice gray length draw me in just like everything else about him.
With a squeeze of my ass, he sets me on the counter in the same spot I’ve sat every day this week. An unfamiliar nervousness comes over me, making me bite my lip and look anywhere else but at him. As well as I can read the things he doesn’t say, I somehow can’t read the meaning behind it or what he’s thinking. He makes my heart speed up, and butterflies flutter in my stomach, but I’m not sure I can handle it if he has disinterest on his face, or even worse, if this is somehow a game, and he’s messing with me.
A moment later, he hands me my coffee, and I take a much needed sip. The cup is so large, it blocks my sight, but I hold out my hand, knowing what’s coming next. The most delicious flavor bursts over my taste buds, and I moan while taking another sip. “Good call on the syrup this morning. The chocolate, caramel, and vanilla taste like a MilkyWay bar.” At the same time, I lower my cup, and an unexpected object lands in my hand.
I stare at it, confused. Keaton stands in front of me, and in my peripheral, I see him take a sip of his coffee. He grunts. This is perfect. I knew you’d like it.
“What is this?” I ask.
He steps closer until he’s between my legs and takes another sip of his coffee. “For your books,” he says, and I’m not sure if I’m more surprised that he spoke for a second time today, or that he’s given me a Kindle.
“Why?” I croak out.
“You like to read, and it’s easier on your eyes.” He shrugs a shoulder like it’s no big deal, but it is to me. I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift, much less one that’s so personal. One that he came up with simply from watching me every day. And with shipping, he got it at least a few days ago. Not even knowing me for a week, and he got me something.
As if sensing my struggle for how to thank him, he taps the top of it with his drumsticks before handing me those, too. I clutch them to my heart, and his words sound in my head once more. Log in and use it.
My cheeks hurt from smiling as I set my coffee down and log into my account. I’ve grown used to juggling so many things in my hands, but what I always make sure to handle with care are his drumsticks. He used to watch me carefully from the corner of his eye, never sure if he could trust me. It was a test that I feel I’ve passed since he hasn’t the past two days.
He gets to work prepping breakfast, and I quickly download the book I’ve been reading. I must have given up reading last night right before a spicy scene, because after a few pages, I find myself glancing around the kitchen to make sure nobody else is here to sneak up behind me and read over my shoulder.
With the coast clear, and Nash nowhere in sight, because he’s the one who’d read over my shoulder, I dive back in. Heat climbs my neck and settles in my cheeks as I read. I never realized how much foreplay some men are willing to do. It’s not something I’ve experienced before, and I have to wonder if it’s only a fictional trait. By the time I reach the part where he’s notching his cock at her entrance, I’m squirming in my seat and pressing my thighs together to try and relieve some of the desire pooling in my panties.
Suddenly, warm hands land on my knees.
Raina’s shock at me getting her an unprompted gift makes me especially glad I did it, even if I did have some reservations. I’m not sure why I was worried it would backfire. Perhaps it’s the nasty rumors about her. Something I’ve found to be the opposite about her. But her reaction also sent a flash of rage through me. It showed how little compassion and decency she’s been shown by others.
I keep watching her as I crack eggs in a bowl and add the other ingredients I need to make french toast. My careful observations clue me in to the fact she’s turned on. Heated cheeks, peaked nipples poking through her shirt, the way she squeezes her thighs together... She’s fucking beautiful, and I’m not immune. My dick gets harder by the second until I can’t ignore her for another minute.
The tension between us has been growing all week; it’s already been at an all time high today. And now it’s grown to a point where I can’t hold back anymore. I have to show her how I feel, lord knows I can’t find the words to tell her.
I hope I’ve read the signs right...
When she backed that ass up into me, I about turned her around right then and there to kiss the hell out of her. There’s no way I’m reading things wrong.
It only takes me a couple steps until I’m standing in front of her. She’s so immersed in her reading, she doesn’t even notice I’m standing here, so I do what’s been playing through my mind every day this past week. My hands land on her knees, and I push them open, making space for me to step between them, closing the distance.
Raina startles. She takes in a sharp breath and jumps, dropping her Kindle. My hand shoots out, my reflexes taking action before I even think about it. I catch it and read what’s on the page. “No.” She gasps and rips the device from my hold, but it’s too late. I already saw enough details of the girl porn to know what has her all hot and bothered.
I can’t help the growl that rumbles through my chest. I shouldn’t be jealous of a book, but I want her turned on by something I’ve done, not detailed words on a page. It won’t stop me from taking advantage of it, though. And soon enough, she won’t remember what she was reading; it’ll only be me on her mind. She can get back to her smut when I’m finished. She’ll think of me anytime she crosses it again.
Our gazes catch, and I raise my pierced eyebrow. What are you reading there?
Her eyes are glazed over with pent up desire, and with my question, her face becomes even more flushed. I love how I don’t need to use words with her. She never tries to pressure me into it. In fact, she interprets what I’m saying and talks to me as if I voiced them to her. The woman is amazing.
Why Tristan would ever want to hurt her is beyond me, but it’s becoming more and more clear that he’s misunderstood something along the way, because I don’t see her doing anything to make him hate her so much. The man is a fucking idiot, and I’m sitting back waiting for the day he eats shit over everything he’s done to her. I promised to back him up, and the best I’m able to do is not stop him from what he feels he needs to do.
“Nothing,” she answers. When I tilt my head to the side, she adds, “Absolutely nothing, I swear.” I deepen my frown and slowly blink. “Keaton.” She says my name with a whine, begging me without using the words to drop it.
Reaching out, I grab one of the drumsticks from her. She makes a sound that’s a mix of outrage and hurt. It lets me know that she’s taken to heart what a big deal it is that I entrust them to her. Her eyes dart back and forth, trying to figure out why I took one of them from her. She’ll have to wait and find out. In the meantime, I run my fingers over it, making sure there are no splinters. It’s a newer set, I’ve only used them in between playing to tap beats against my leg or the occasional table.
Finding it smooth as her peach, I run my hands along her thighs until I’m gripping her hips. With a slight tug, I pull her to the edge of the counter. The sweet sound of her breath catching in her throat spurs me on, and I bring my touch back to her silky legs. I could caress her all day, enjoying the feel of her.
While her legs are spread to accommodate me between them, I press my palms into her inner thighs next to her knees, making them open even more. She watches me carefully, and I find a battle playing out in her stormy blue eyes. She’s not thinking about stopping me. On the contrary. She’s wondering if she can give in. If this is real, or if I’m messing with her.
Fucking Tristan. That asshole has made it to where she can’t trust this. But I haven’t given in to the things he’s said. I’ve seen pain hiding in her depths, and my own latched onto it. I’ve felt a connection with her from the very beginning, and I won’t let her hide because that fool has hurt her.
My new mission in life is to heal her one kind word at a time. Even if I struggle to voice them, she deserves to hear it. I see the way she reacts every time. The shudder running along her spine, or the way her lips part. Sometimes her nipples even get hard. Simply from hearing me. It emboldens me, helps me face the fears of talking that have gripped me for years.
When her legs are wide open, I glance down, knowing her eyes will follow where mine go, and her sharp inhale proves me right. We find her panties soaked, the dark patch showing how much the book turned her on. I have to touch her. I need to give her relief.
Using my drumstick, I run the tip over the area where her slit is, making the patch grow even darker. Raina whimpers, and I continue moving it up and down the crevice, much like I’d love to do with my cock.
“Keaton,” she moans my name so sweetly, and it snaps something inside me. I need more. I have to see that dripping pussy more than I need my next breath. My fingers tease along her skin, trailing toward the edges of the lace until I’m able to hook my fingers into it and bring them down her toned legs. She helps by lifting her ass from the counter. If I didn’t get the message already, she’s more than okay with what’s happening. Even if a word hasn’t passed from my lips.
When they get to her ankles, she draws her legs up, wanting to help get them off as quickly as possible. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I ball them up and slip them into my pocket. The dampness rubbing at my palm makes my heart pound in my chest. Why does everything about her turn me on even more?
The disappointing side effect of taking them off is that her legs are once more closed, hiding the view I desperately want to feast upon. I pin her with my stare, waiting. Her eyes sparkle, and she bites her lip. She doesn’t disappoint me, reading my look as if I said the words aloud. Achingly slowly, her legs part, showing me her smooth pussy. I’ve wondered what the situation was with how exposing some of her body suits are that she performs in. Now I know.
