Before I could respond, he wrapped his arms around me and flipped us over so my back was against the mattress. He dropped a hurried kiss on my mouth, and began to scoot down.
I lifted my head, puzzled. “What are you doing?”
He looked devious. Was he was leaving me to ditch the condom? No. He settled in, half of his body hanging off the edge of the bed, his feet probably on a rung of the ladder.
“You didn’t come.”
Shit. I’d been so in the moment with him, I’d forgotten to fake an orgasm. He’d probably taken dozens of girls to bed, and given hundreds of orgasms. How was he going to deal with this? Was he confused and disappointed? Frustrated with me?
He didn’t seem frustrated. He looked . . . excited?
“Mmm…” I moaned uncontrollably as he pushed two fingers inside, touching a spot that made my legs twitch. His mouth sealed over my clit, sucking and licking. My brain fractured from the pleasure. Thought ceased, and sizzling bliss took control. It flooded and overwhelmed until I cried out, “Oh my God!”
The orgasm hit me so fast, I shattered into a billion pieces of euphoria. It felt like confetti was fluttering over my body. I forced myself to breathe through it, and when the pleasure subsided, I relaxed, wanting to sink into the mattress.
Jay’s smile said he was pleased with himself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “that was so much work to get me there.”
His face went blank. “You think that was work? Fuck, Kayla. I’ll do that all night if you’ll let me.”
-22-
KAYLA
Jay got down off the bed, pulled off the condom, and dropped it in the trash. He was back in my bed seconds later, curling around me as the large spoon. His thick arm was heavy, but nice, draped across me. We lay in the quiet, my rushed breathing slowing, and I burrowed back into him, his chin resting on the top of my head.
I was physically tired but mentally wide-awake. “Did your parents make your game?”
“Yeah.”
“They got to see your TD.”
I was facing away from him, but pictured a smile on his lips. “Yeah, they did.”
“They must be so proud, their only son playing in college, maybe going pro.” I aimed for a teasing tone. “Even if he plays for that school I shall not name.”
There was no reaction. Jay had no comeback? I rolled over and found his expression hesitant.
“I’m not their only son.” His face skewed. “I mean, I am.”
“What?”
He scowled for a moment, but it seemed self-directed. “This conversation requires beer.”
He avoided the ladder, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, and took the express elevator down. There was a loud boom when he landed on his feet, which the downstairs neighbors probably didn’t appreciate. I gathered the sheet around me as I sat up, and watched him stride to his can of beer. He took a long sip.
“How old are your parents?” he asked, his back turned to me.
“Holy random question.” I took a second to think about it. “My mom’s late forties. My dad’s fifty-something. Why?”
“My mom’s fifty-nine. My dad’s in his sixties.”
Okay. I didn’t get it.
“My parents wanted a big family, but it took years before my mom got pregnant.” He took another sip, probably draining half of the beer. “After my brother was born, one kid seemed to be all they were going to get. But they were cool with that.”
Cold drifted over me, curling its fingers around my heart. Jay had said he was an only child.
“What happened?” I whispered.
“When Derek was seven, he got meningitis. It came quick and they said he was gone in a few days.”
I gasped and tightened my hold on the sheet. Jay turned and peered at me with a serious expression.
“They didn’t have to tell me it was rough. I don’t know how they made it through, but they had each other. After a while, they decided to try for a family again. My mom glosses over it, but I think that was really hard on her.”
He set his beer down and leaned against the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
“After a few years, they realized it wasn’t going to happen for them and gave up. Right when they started to look into adoption, along I came.” His tone was heavy. “Their miracle baby.”
Those three words.
God, they said so much.
I had expectations to live up to with my parents, but they weren’t as bad as an only child’s were. And he wasn’t just an only child . . . Was he filling all the hopes and dreams his parents had held for his older brother, too?
I hated the space between us. “Come back to bed.” When he didn’t move, I added, “I’m cold.”
It seemed to do the trick. He moved to the ladder and slowly climbed up, only this time when he lay down, he was on his back. I tucked myself in under his arm and set a hand on his chest, right over his beating heart.