by Green, Megan
Four hours without knowing where she was, what was happening to her…
It had been enough to nearly drive me crazy.
And the moment she came walking through that damn door, her cheeks flushed from the drinks they undoubtedly had, her hair windblown from the ride in Scarlett’s convertible, I’d known.
Somewhere along the way, I’d fallen in love with Monroe Daniels.
The idea scared the ever-loving fuck out of me. And exhilarated me at the same time.
This was all new territory for me.
And for the first time in my life, I was excited for the journey.
Monroe’s breath comes in soft pants against my lips, and I realize how easy it would be to take her right there, on the stairs. I could have her jeans down, my hands on her breasts and my cock in her wet pussy, before she could even say the words. It would be hot. It would be electric. It would be everything the two of us have come to expect when the world between us ignites.
But it would be totally wrong.
Later, we would do that. Later, I’d fuck her with her back against the carpeted stairs, the coarse material rubbing her skin raw as I pounded into her.
But now…
Now I need to show Monroe exactly how I feel.
So instead of slamming my mouth to hers, I kiss her gently. The movement catches her off guard, all our prior kisses so heated and frenzied, and I use her surprise to my advantage. Before she realizes what I’m doing, I swing her up into my arms.
I carry her up the stairs, closing my lips over hers again to cut off her protests. She can’t tell me to put her down if she can’t talk.
She’s fully into the kiss by the time we reach the bedroom, and I deposit her gently in the center of the bed. I grab my shirt from behind my head and yank it off in one fluid movement.
“Do you have any idea how hot it is when you do that?” she asks, her eyes drunk with lust. “Seriously. So fucking sexy.”
I make a note of it for future reference. I had no idea something as simple as removing an article of clothing could set my girl off like this, but damn if I’m not going to do it every chance I get from now on.
“Do you have any idea how hot it is when you do that?” I repeat the question back to her. She gives me a puzzled look.
“Do what?”
“That. Just...that.”
“But I’m not doing anything.”
“Exactly,” I say, lowering myself on top of her and peppering her neck with kisses. “You don’t have to do a damn thing to drive me crazy, Monroe. Just being in the same damn room with you is enough to set my blood boiling. Hell, the same city. Ever since you got here, there hasn’t been a moment that I haven’t wanted you. Every single bit of you.”
I reach the collar of her t-shirt with my mouth, my fingers pulling the fabric down in order to gain access to her collarbone. But instead of her silky smooth flesh, I’m met with a layer of gauze and clear bandaging.
“What is this?” I ask, my eyes fixated on my new discovery. “Were you hurt?”
Monroe’s eyes flash down to her chest. “Oh, I almost forgot about that. Kind of ironic, considering an hour ago I was cursing out Scarlett for putting me through that torture.”
I lift a brow as I look at her. “Scarlett?”
Monroe nods, a small smile gracing her lips. “Scarlett and I got tattoos tonight.”
“You got a tattoo?” I ask dumbly.
She nods again. “Just a small one. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Scarlett managed to wring that information out of me after bribing me with chips, salsa, and alcohol, and well, the rest is history, as they say.”
My eyes drop back down to the covered spot on her chest. “Can I see it?”
She pulls her lip between her teeth. “I don’t know. They said I was supposed to keep it covered for a while. And you’ll probably think it’s stupid.”
“I’ll be careful. And we’ll be sure to cover it back up. I’ve wrapped a few of Benton’s tattoos for him before, so I know what I’m doing. And I won’t think it’s stupid. I promise.”
Please don’t be an emoji or some stupid shit like that and make me have to eat my words, I tack on silently.
Monroe ponders my request for a few more moments, her brows pulling together in the cutest show of deliberating I’ve ever seen. But finally, she nods, giving me the permission I need.
I stroke my fingers gently over the bandage, stopping at the corner and lifting gently. I move slowly, not wanting to cause her any pain, and loving the anticipation of what’s to come.
It’s like unwrapping a goddamn Christmas present.
When the bandage is finally free, I gaze down at the fresh ink now adorning her previously unmarred flesh.
“It’s a…” I trail off, not entirely sure of what I’m looking at. Black dots and lines run along her collarbone in some sort of random pattern. It’s almost as if someone played connect the dots.
“It’s a constellation. Scorpius, to be exact.”
I nod. “I didn’t realize you were into astrology.”
She shrugs. “I’m not, really. I mean, I’ll read my horoscope every now and then. But I’m not big on the stars defining your destiny and all that jazz.”
“Then why’d you choose this?” I ask, knowing that if this woman chose to put something permanently on her body, there had to be a damn good reason.
“You’ll think it’s stupid,” she repeats.
“I won’t. Tell me.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ve lost a lot in my life. My mom. My uncle. Benton is the only long-time friend I’ve ever had. People come and go. But the stars? The stars are always there.”
A completely unfamiliar sensation rises in my throat, and I bite it back before it can fully take root. Jesus Christ, did I just get...choked up?
But then again, why wouldn’t I? This woman has been through a lot of shit. She’s lost everyone who’s ever loved her, and instead of letting that break her, she’s funneled that loss into strength. She’s been battered, she’s been burned. But instead of dwelling on all the loss, she turned her focus to the only constant she could find.
The stars.
I lower my lips to her skin, pressing a soft kiss to the tattoo. “I think it’s perfect.”
Her voice is playful when she speaks. “Yeah? You don’t think I’m some weird hippie for getting my sign tattooed on me?”
I should laugh with her, joke with her. It’s what I would’ve done before. Before I realized that I…
“You’re perfect, Monroe,” I say, cutting off any response she might’ve had to that with my lips against hers.
I spend the next few hours showing Monroe exactly how much I mean those words.
She’s perfect for me.
And she might’ve lost everyone who’s loved her in the past.
But I’m not giving her up.
Not without a fight.
Chapter Twenty-One
Monroe
My heart pounds against my chest and I focus on each breath of air that flows in and out of my lungs. I wasn’t a virgin the first time I had sex with Barrett, but it has never been this way with anyone before. We have this connection with each other that’s almost animalistic.
Tonight was different than every other time before. We weren’t frantic or hurried, chasing down the impending release. No, we took the opportunity to really explore each other’s bodies and I saw something in Barrett’s eyes as he looked down into my own with each thrust. I saw something that scared me and I’m afraid to admit my eyes might have been mirroring it back to him.
The only noise in the room besides our breathing comes from the ceiling fan as it quickly whirls around. Goosebumps cover my skin and I pull the sheet tightly over my naked body. Now that we’re not going at it anymore, it feels weird to be lying here completely exposed.
Barrett rolls over onto his side and rests his head on his hand. My tongue slips out through my lips as I run it along my bottom one at
his appearance. From head to toe, his body is perfectly sculpted like an Adonis and he doesn’t seem the least bit shy to be lying there completely naked. Not like it’s the first time I’ve seen his body, but still.
He has a smile in his eyes when he asks, “So, what kind of tattoo did Scarlett get?”
I hear his question, but I don’t really process it as he glides the back of his hand down my neck to my waist and back up again in featherlight motions. Each time he passes by, he pauses slightly beside my breast, just barely touching the outside before moving again.
My eyes widen slightly as I look back over at his gorgeous body. Realistically I know he doesn’t know what I was thinking, but the way he’s smiling tells me otherwise. “What?”
“Well, you said you both got tattoos. I’m assuming she didn’t get the exact same one as you. Unless she got her own sign.”
No, she definitely did not get the same tattoo as me. I tried talking her out of it, but she was insistent about getting what she got and no matter how many times I reminded her that it would mark her skin forever, she still got it.
“A hammer,” I whisper out because it’s absolutely ridiculous and I still can’t believe she did that to her body.
His brows furrow and he frowns slightly when he asks, “Want to repeat that?”
Still lying on my back, I stare at some dust that’s hanging over the edge of one of the fan blades. It rapidly rotates on the track and I start counting each revolution around. Scarlett is a very sweet girl, but I seriously questioned our friendship with that tattoo choice.
A chuckle falls from my lips as I recall her stumbling around the tattoo shop. I’m surprised they even let her get the thing in the first place. “She got a hammer directly above her ass crack. She told me that the guy she’s seeing would think it’s hilarious every time he pounds into her. I didn’t quite agree with her, but who am I to judge?”
Releasing his head, Barrett falls onto his back laughing. The entire bed shakes under the intensity of the tremors attacking his body. I’m starting to worry he’s completely lost his mind when he slowly starts coming back down to earth.
He wipes at his eyes and says, “Can I just say I’m pretty damn glad that I’m dating a grown-up who doesn’t put stupid shit on her body? If I didn’t know it was Scarlett you went with, I’d say she should be hooking up with my brother.”
My brain is firing in all directions and not sure which piece of information he just dropped on me. I decide to go with the easier and figure out the latter later.
“Why do you say that?”
“Ben might be responsible when it comes to work, but he’s a fucking child when it comes to the rest of his life. And that tattoo sounds like something his twelve-year-old boy mind would find fucking hilarious.”
Well, that doesn’t exactly answer my question as to why they’re not together. It didn’t even cross my mind when she was talking about the tattoo, but it does kind of make sense now that I think about it. “So, maybe he is the reason she got it?” I ask with a question, unsure of it now that I say it out loud.
“No, there’s too much history between those two. They would never go there.”
History? I wonder what that means? I left early on in high school, but I don’t ever remember Scarlett from back then. My mind races as possible scenarios present themselves to me. They hooked up once and it was awful. Benton hooked up with her sister, aunt, or some other family member.
Shaking my head, I roll over onto my side, now facing the gorgeous man in front of me. I’m not usually so forward, but I go with it and ask, “Dating?”
He looks over at me with his cute brows furrowed again. It might sound weird, but they look like skinny black caterpillars that are coming together for a kiss. “What?”
“Earlier you said you were pretty damn glad that you’re dating a grown-up. So, is that what we’re doing here, Barrett? Are we dating?”
Barrett’s voice comes out harsh when he bites out, “We’re more than just fucking, like you so eloquently put it earlier.”
Ouch.
I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, but judging by the way his body has stiffened and he’s no longer looking at me, that’s exactly what I’ve done. And I feel like a complete dickwad for doing it. I know exactly how to fix this, at least I think I can.
“Well if we’re dating, then I want a proper date. Not eating food in your kitchen before racing up the stairs to hop into bed together. I want to get dressed up and look like a girl for once. I want you to open the door for me and take me to a nice restaurant where people can see us together. I’ve never been much of a flower girl, so you don’t have to get those for me. Maybe after dinner, we’ll take a walk under the stars and hold hands like teenagers. Eventually, we’ll end up back here, and maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“That sounds like a lot of work to me for just a maybe. What’s in it for me?”
Oh, that’s how he is going to be?
I reach above my head for a pillow and it doesn’t take long for my fingers to land on the cold fabric. I pinch the corner in my fingers and quickly whip it over my head, landing it directly on Barrett’s face.
“Is that how it’s going to be?” he asks before he quickly jumps up on the bed reaching for his own pillow.
Well, shit. I didn’t exactly think this one through. I leap from the bed as he stalks toward me with his own pillow. Giggles fall from my lips as I hop from one foot to the other, trying to escape his attack. The minute he hits me the first time, it’s game on.
We dance around the room with our pillows, chasing one another in a full-blown pillow fight. We’re both completely naked, but this time I don’t even care. Barrett has already seen me naked and we’re both in the exact same position right now. If he can be confident having a naked pillow fight, then so can I.
“So was the tattoo the only thing she got out of you?”
Huh? I stop in my tracks and turn around to face Barrett. “I only got the one tattoo if that’s what you mean?”
“Well, obviously, since I haven’t seen any other bandages on your body. I was just curious what else you talked about.”
I drop the pillow to the floor and yell, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I wink in his direction before running down the hallway and down the stairs. His footsteps loudly echo behind me and it sounds more like a stampede in the house than anything else.
Hitting the bottom floor, I slide slightly on an extra slick spot, and I keep running toward the couch.
Barrett, unfortunately, is not so lucky. You’d think that since this is his house and he’s lived here for years; he would remember about the floor. He charges down the stairs at full speed and the minute his feet touch down, they slide out from underneath him, and he goes down. And I mean hard.
A grunt falls from his lips at contact and I instantly feel bad. I don’t know how badly he hurt himself, but I run toward him careful of where I step.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I crouch down on the floor next to his body, he’s completely flat out on the hardwood floor. That can’t feel too great.
Leaning over, I drop a small kiss at his temple and ask, “Is that better?”
His eyes tighten in pain and he replies, “Lower.”
I drop another kiss, this time on his cheek. “Better?”
“Not quite,” he says with his eyes still tightly closed.
This time I lean completely over his body and kiss him on his lips. He groans into my mouth and wraps his arms around me, pulling me onto him. I can feel his excitement against my belly and if there’s one thing I know for sure, Barrett Brooks is always up for another round.
Breaking our kiss, I lean up and ask for the last time, “Is that better?”
Shaking his head, he pulls me down for another kiss and right before our lips touch, he thrusts up into me and says, “That’s much better.”
I’ve become insatiable since being with Barrett. I release a full-blown porn star moan at the contact. I have no idea ho
w I got by in the past without this man by my side, but whatever is going on between us, I never want it to end.
I know I’ve completely fallen for him, but I’m terrified to tell him that. Loving someone means they can leave you and I don’t want that to happen with us. So, for now, we’ll continue doing what we’re doing, with the addition of our dating, and figure out the rest another time.
We’re so caught up in our frenzied motions that neither one of us hear the front door open behind us, until it’s too late, and a voice that we both know all too well shouts, “What the fuck is going on in here?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Barrett
When I was a teenager, I used to sneak out of my parents’ house in the middle of the night as often as I could. Normally, I’d find myself over at Ash’s because his parents were cool and let him have a TV in his room. We’d stay up all night, playing on his Sega and trying to make out the shape of boobs from the scrambled signal of the adult channels. But sometimes...well, sometimes we got into trouble.
When I was sixteen, I’d been so pissed off at the principal of our school for kicking me off the football team because I failed one lousy test, that I’d talked Ash into helping me toilet paper his house. Sounds harmless enough, right?
Except once I got started, I couldn’t stop. It didn’t end with some toilet paper in his trees. I’d gone back to my car, gotten my paintball gun, and had a heyday on his garage door.
The icing on this already idiotic cake?
My stupid ass not realizing there was a goddamn cop car parked two driveways over.
Fortunately for me, our principal had been a fairly forgiving man, and since I was a minor, I’d merely gotten a slap on the wrist, some community service, and a wasted Saturday repainting the damn garage door.
All of that failed in comparison to the wrath of my mother when that police officer dragged me home in the middle of the night. The anger and downright disappointment that radiated off her in waves as she glared down at where I sat on the couch in our living room, my eyes downcast as I shamefully listened to the officer recount my night’s activities.