I laugh, confused by that. Did she have ulterior motives? Her eyes are scrunched shut with her hands over them, so she must have chickened out.
I decide to climb on the bed, watching her tense when it squeaks. Dangerous out there? That's the worst excuse I've ever heard.
She slowly removes her hands, her eyes on me, but she makes no attempt to advance. So I play along.
"You can change in here... since it's dangerous. I'll head out," I mock, sliding off the bed.
I walk close to her, letting my body become something she can't avoid looking at, and open the door. Weird noises paint the hallway. What the hell is going on? Is that a moan?
It sounds like my house after the Wet Game. Then it all clicks, and I burst out laughing while shutting the door as quickly as possible, my laughter rolling out in heaves.
"Damn. They work quick," I joke, relishing how mortified she is right now.
"Don't talk about it. I'll puke."
My roaring amusement only continues harder as I drop to the bed. "I'll close my eyes."
I shut my eyes, but I feel her gaze on me. And I might peek when I hear her shuffling out of her clothes. I never told her I wouldn't peek.
I shouldn't have peeked. This is going to be a long night now that I've had a glimpse of what rests beneath the clothes. Damn.
She screams my name as I find that spot of no return. My to
ngue is owning her and she's riding it like it may disappear if she stops. I can't take it any longer, though, so I jerk my pants down, ready to be inside her.
Just as I'm about to surge in, it all fades as two moans sound out in unison, one becoming breathy. It takes me a second, but my eyes snap open to meet hers as I feel the soft flesh beneath my firm grip. Another fucking dream, and I'm groping her again!
I scramble backward, wishing I had handcuffed myself last night. But I make the mistake of forgetting how small this bed is.
One second I'm on a bed, then next second I'm Wylie Coyote trying to run on air as gravity jerks me down. My elbow slams into the unstable nightstand, taking it with me.
A grunt is forced from my lips as I hit the ground, decimating the last of my masculinity. An assortment of blunt, hard objects pound against me. Worst. Morning. Ever.
"You okay?" she asks, seeming angry.
That's the second time I've woken up with my hands all over her. No way is she ever going to trust me if I can't get my shit together.
"Yeah," I groan, then I curse when some of her pictures that fell start falling out of my lap and clambering to the floor. "I'll clean that up. I need... I need a smoke," I stammer, making an even bigger idiot out of myself.
I grab the pack and lighter from my bag and haul ass out of there, desperate to get my nerves under control. I don't even acknowledge the ungodly sounds coming from her brother's room as I dart outside, needing that cold air for so many reasons.
I'm not about to talk to my father. I need to call Wren and ask him if he made a complete ass of himself when he was trying to get close to Erica. Because right now, this isn't looking too good for me.
I can't stop thinking about Raya in pigtails. She was adorable as a kid. Her mother seemed to really enjoy breaking out every old photo she could find, even mentioned she never got to do that. Not that I didn't already figure that out, based on what Raya has told me—one boyfriend ever.
But now Raya has dragged me to town to keep her mother from cramming every memory she could summon down my throat. Personally, I was enjoying the hell out of it.
I start noticing that everyone is staring at us—more so at Raya. And then I notice her eyes are focused on the ground, meaning she's already felt the heat of their gazes. I know their looks—judgmental and condescending. It's as though we've somehow stepped into a Country Club function.
None of these people look as though they have any money, so why do they have that pompous, superior gaze? Not to mention, she looks like she just stepped out of a Paul Colton fashion catalogue.
I'm sure they might know her and where she lives, but this is ridiculous.
"People like to stare," I murmur, lacing my fingers with hers to let everyone know they'd better stay the hell away.
She moves her gaze to our joined hands, still refusing to look at the people gawking at us.
"You're new in town," she lies, shutting me out.