Uncomfortable (Undone Book 1)

by Vanessa Page

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jace

  I wait for what feels like hours into the night for that small knock to sound on my door, the one that tells me Krystal needs a place to sleep again. It doesn’t come. I know RJ’s in the girls’ room with Abigail again, because he’s not in here. But… tonight, neither is Scotty. Finally, I climb out of bed and creep out onto the landing, fully expecting to find Krystal curled into that ridiculously chair. But the chair—and its mate—are empty. I peer over the side of the railing, but only see Scotty and Maggie down in the living room, curled together on the couch while some sort of horror movie flashes on the TV screen in front of them.

  So where is Krystal?

  I shouldn’t care, and I definitely shouldn’t go downstairs in search of her. I should go back into my room, climb back into my nice, soft bed, and go to sleep. But I’ve never been very good at following through on what I should do. Instead, I pad down the stairs and check first the kitchen—empty—and then dining room.

  I almost snort out loud when I find her there. She’s lined four armless dining chairs up against one wall and is stretched out across them with her feet hanging off the end of the row. She’s using her arm as a shield from the porch light shining in the front window. While I’m sure this is way more comfortable than the chair upstairs, it can’t possibly compare to a bed.

  “Are you that scared of facing me now?”

  She jumps slightly at the sound of my voice and peers out at me from under her arm.

  “I thought you were in bed, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

  Just the sight of her lying there, and the soft, husky quality of her voice is enough to conjure images in my mind of this afternoon’s shower, and my cock springs to attention easily.

  “What if I wanted to be bothered?” I respond, fulling meaning the innuendo in my words.

  She drops her arm away from her face and sits up. But she doesn’t speak for a long moment. I almost begin to think she didn’t hear me. Then she says, with a question in her voice, “Come again?”

  “I’m certainly hoping to,” I answer. I know I sound as crass as RJ right now, but I can’t make myself care. I can’t shake the image of Krystal in my arms, and can’t think of anything I want more right now than her in my bed. I hold out a hand to her. “I’m going back upstairs. You coming?”

  She hesitates a moment, then stands and sets her dainty palm in mine. “Not yet. But soon, hopefully.” And just like that, my cock is tenting my sweats obscenely.

  We make the trip upstairs quietly, so silent in fact, Maggie and Scotty don’t even look up from their movie. When we get to my room, I guide Krystal inside, and close the door with a soft click. Then I press her to the door and settle my hands on her hips. I have been thinking about touching you again since the moment my hands left your skin earlier.

  She swallows, then licks her lips. “Me, too.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper, and tickles across my cheek as she stares up at me in the quasi-darkness.

  “Did you…” I hesitate, searching for the right words. “Plan it?”

  Her eyes flash with annoyance. “You mean, did I plan to fall in a disgusting retention pond full of stagnant muddy water and have you come in after me? All so I could get you naked in the shower and come so hard my legs were shaky after?”

  Well, when she puts it like that, it does sound a bit silly. Then my eyes widen as the last part of her statement sank in. “I made you come that hard?” I’m suddenly grateful for the little bit of space between our two bodies, because I just went from a semi to raging boner in the time it took me to say the word come. Now, I’m mentally reliving the moment she came apart in my arms, and I have to swallow a moan.

  “That’s what you took away from what I just said?” She sounds exasperated, and maybe a little embarrassed.

  “I mean, it’s always nice to know my work is appreciated.” I shoot her a cocky grin.

  “Ugh,” she sighs, “You are impossible.”

  “Impossibly handsome, you mean.” I know I’m pushing my luck here, but teasing her feels immensely safer than being serious right now.

  “Sure, buddy, keep telling yourself that.” She pats my chest in a placating gesture and then slips around me. I turn to visually follow her progress across the room. She has a choice between two beds, mine or Scotty’s, and I hope against hope she figures Scotty will be coming to bed tonight and chooses to bunk with me.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when she stops next to my bed with her back to me, and then almost choke sucking in a new lungful of air when she unbuttons her jeans and pushes them down her legs. She bends at the waist to free her feet from her pant legs, and I clench my fists at my sides to keep from rushing across the room and palming the perfect globes of her ass under her pale blue panties.

  Instead, I take my time crossing the room, and she’s standing tall again by the time I get there.

  She looks at me over one shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind. Jeans are so uncomfortable to sleep in.” I can’t tell if she’s being coy or is genuine in just wanting to be comfortable for the night, and as much as I want to push boundaries right now, I decide to err on the side of caution.

  “Of course,” I answer and reach behind me to pull my shirt over my head. Then I climb into the bed, dig myself under the covers, and lift the blanket up for her to join me. She sits softly on the edge of the bed, then glides into a prone position, staring up at the ceiling.

  I can’t figure out if she wants me to touch her or not. Her words downstairs make me think she might, but she hasn’t said or done anything that lets me know for sure. I could ask, but that feels infinitely more awkward than just lying here next to her, even if every cell in my body is aching to touch her.

  Fuck. I have like zero game. I’ve been out of rotation for so long, I don’t even know how to put the moves on a girl when she’s half naked in bed next to me. I’m a complete and total idiot.

  I collapse onto my back in a mental fit of self-loathing and cross my arms behind my head, resigned to not making a move. Several long minutes pass, the only sound in the room her light, airy breathing, and my deeper, heavier inhales and exhales. I could be meditating right now, I’m so focused on our breathing.

  So focused, I’m startled when cold fingers land lightly on my stomach, just below my navel. When those same fingers begin a slow creep toward my waistband, I almost shoot up in bed from the tension, but I don’t move. I hold every muscle tight, waiting to see where she’s taking this and hoping with every fiber of my being that it’s going where I think it is. Straight down to my cock.

  She reaches the edge of my sweats and tickles the skin there, not delving under it like I want her to so desperately. I’m so hard, just from this light touch, I’m surprised my dick isn’t slapping the back of her hand right now.

  Krystal dips just the tip of a finger beneath the elastic of my pants, and my hips lift ever-so-slightly into the air all on their own; the movement is beyond my control. I’m almost embarrassed to think how wildly I’d be bucking right now if she were to wrap a hand around my erection. Almost. The weight of my arousal overpowers any semblance of embarrassment I might feel as she slides her whole hand into my pants and my hips thrust upward, begging her to take me in hand and give me some relief.

  She does just that, wrapping her slender fingers around me, and beginning a slow, even stroke up, then down, then back up again. On every upswing, she brushes her thumb against the tip, eliciting a shudder I can’t control.

  “Fuck,” I mutter and reach out for her because I can’t bear to not be touching her for one more second. I pull her on top of me so that she’s straddling my stomach, and she giggles in response.

  “I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep,” she teases.

  “Impossible. Not with such a gorgeous, sexy woman in bed next to me in her underwear.”

  “And a T-shirt,” she corrects.

  “My apologies,” I chuckle, “allow me to correct that
.” I glide my hands up under her baggy gray T-shirt and lift it over her head.

  And I’m in heaven. She’s braless, and her pert breasts are bare and staring me in the face, making my mouth water for the want to taste them. I lick my lips and trace my hands across the lines of her shoulders, her collarbone, down the sides of her ribcage, and then back up to cup those glorious tits.

  “Mmm,” she moans and leans into my touch, and I feel that sound straight to my core. I use my hands on her to guide her body backward until she’s poised over my erection. Krystal looks me straight in the eye as she lowers herself down and our bodies connect. I groan at the contact, wishing for all the world that my pants and her panties weren’t in the way. Releasing her, I reach for my sweats and lift my hips to tug them down quickly. Rushing to be rid of at least this barrier, I kick the material down my legs and off my feet until I’m completely naked under her.

  Krystal doesn’t skip a beat, settling over me again and grinding down on me in the most delicious way. She finds her rhythm and throws her head back, closes her eyes. If it weren’t for these damn panties, I could slide into her, that look of pleasure on her face could be from my cock inside her.

  And now, I’m almost frantic to have her riding me. So frantic, I have to mentally shake myself. I need to cool my jets before I blast off. Things went way too quickly in the shower earlier. This is my chance to slow down, savor the moment, taste every inch of Krystal’s body. Take my time giving her and myself pleasure.

  But I can’t do that without protection. Which I didn’t bring, I realize, stilling beneath her, even as she continues to grind against me. The movement of her body on mine is making it almost impossible to think. “Krystal.” I place my hands on her hips and try to still her motion, but her back and forth movements turn into more of a circular pattern, and I almost loose the willpower to make it stop. “I don’t have a condom.”

  She freezes the second the words leave my lips and looks down at me with something like horror written across her face. We’re stuck like that for several long minutes, her hovering over my raging erection, me trying not to say, “Fuck it,” and rip her panties off and dive right in despite the lack of prophylactic.

  Then her expression turns hopeful. “What about RJ?”

  Krystal is a damn genius. RJ is the kind of guy who doesn’t even leave his bedroom without a rubber or five. He’s bound to have some around here somewhere.

  “Shit, I hope so.” I smack Krystal’s ass lightly and then lift her off me so I can get up. RJ’s corner of the room is a shitshow—he couldn’t keep a room tidy to save his life—and I feel no guilt rooting around in his belongings looking for my holy grail. Finally, I find exactly what I’m looking for—not just one condom, but a strip of six. Bonus!

  I rush back to Krystal and practically dive onto the bed. A tiny squeak escapes her when I land on all fours, hovering over her. Then I slow down, stare down into those bright gray eyes until I feel like I’m drowning in them. With slow movements, I lean down and press my lips to hers, watching as her eyes slide slowly closed before I close my own.

  I kiss down her neck without the benefit of my sight, using my other senses to feel my way over her skin, learning the feel of her, the taste of her. I take my time memorizing every inch of her, engraving the shape of her curves into my soul. The tiny sounds of pleasure she makes burn themselves into my brain, forever emblazoned there. I’m certain I’ll still hear them echoing across my synapses when I’m eighty.

  As much as I enjoy every part of Krystal’s body, I must admit, I do have my favorite parts, and I spend extra time there, sucking first one nipple into my mouth and lavishing it with affection before moving on to the other until she’s writhing beneath me. She lifts her hips, desperately seeking contact, and I imagine I know exactly what she’s feeling right now. I’m torn between feeling like I might explode if I can’t be inside her and knowing I will definitely explode if I am.

  But it’s a risk I’m going to have to take, I think to myself solemnly. Because I need to be inside her, and I need to do it before I’m too far gone to make sure she’s taken care of. I pull back, settle back on my knees, and look down at her in appreciation. I could stare at her all night. But there are other things I’d rather do with her all night. I grab the strip of condoms, rip one off, and tear it open.

  Before I can roll it down my erection, Krystal reaches out and takes it from me. She unravels the rubber down my cock, and the desire to thrust into her hand is so strong, I should win an award for my willpower and ability to stay still under the sensation of her hand on my member.

  Once she has my Johnson “dressed” for the occasion, she gives it a little tug, literally leading me by the penis, and truth be told, I would go anywhere she led me this way. Luckily for me, she leads me straight to paradise, positioning me at her entrance before letting go and staring up at me in invitation.

  I accept the invitation gladly, sliding into her easily. She’s so wet, so ready for me, and we fit together so perfectly. I grit my teeth against the building pressure, the growing need to shoot off. “This is going to be quick.” I tell her apologetically, thrusting in and out slowly, doing my best to savor every second. I want to make it last for hours, but she’s got me so worked up, I’ll be lucky to make this last five minutes.

  “Yes,” she breathes against my ear, “it is.” And with those words, I’m teetering right on the brink of no return. But I’ll be damned if I don’t take her over the edge with me. I brace myself over her on one elbow and slip a hand between us, find her clit with my thumb, and circle the bud to the tempo of my hips.

  “Right there! Don’t stop.” She practically whimpers against my cheek, and I would sooner die than stop my movements right now. Her noises, the little whimpers and moans, increase in volume and intensity, until she cries out my name. Her whole body jerks under me, and her muscles squeeze my cock, milking my own orgasm from me. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and give myself over to the pleasure until I’m shuddering helplessly against her.

  I stay like that, over her, inside her, until the last vestiges of my orgasm subside and my bicep starts to quiver from holding my weight in this quasi-plank position for so long. I roll off of her and get up from the bed, but only long enough to dispose of the condom and clean myself off. Then, I climb back on the bed next to her and pull her to me. She curls into my side, and I’m struck by how well she fits there. She rests one hand on my chest and gently tickles my skin with her fingernails. My cock doesn’t take long to recover and begin to respond to her touch, and she doesn’t take long to notice.

  She giggles, a sexy tinkle of a laugh. “Once wasn’t enough for you?” she teases.

  I shift quickly, rolling her on top of me and pulling her down for a kiss, purposely letting her feel my erection growing between our two bodies. “Baby, I’m pretty sure we are going to use all these condoms and it still won’t be enough for me. I may never get tired of touching you, of being inside you.”

  “Hmm…” she says in mock thoughtfulness. “Sounds like I’ll need to find someplace else to sleep tonight if I want to get any rest.” She shifts her weight, pretending like she’s going to move off of me.

  I buck my hips and roll us so that I’m on top of her, hovering over her, resting between her legs. “Stay,” is all I say, an entreaty, and I hope she realizes I’m asking her for so much more than sex.

  Her expression sobers instantly, and she searches my eyes, for what I’m not sure. Finally, she answers me. “Okay.”

  And I set out to prove to her that it was the right decision. All night long.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jace

  Krystal is gone when I wake up the next morning, and her absence is probably a good thing, judging from the strength of my boner. My body wants another go, and I’m playing our night together on repeat in my head. But even though it’s probably the best sex I’ve ever had, I’m already dreading the unanswered question hanging in the atmosphere: What does
this make us? I climb out of bed and reach for my jeans, deciding not to dwell on our relationship non-status too much. I pushing the question out of my mind and hope it stays gone.

  I find Krystal in the kitchen when I come downstairs, not that I was looking for her or anything. I think, subconsciously, I secretly hoped I’d be able to avoid her, but no such luck. She’s sitting placidly on one of the stools at the kitchen island. She’s in another oversized hoodie, socks, and maybe nothing else. Her slender legs extend from the bottom of the hoodie like an invitation, tempting my thoughts to follow the lines of her thighs straight up to her core. I briefly consider skipping coffee and going for a jog instead. Or a hike, or a marathon. Anything to burn off this excess sexual energy.

  But it wouldn’t do me any good. She’d still be here, at the house, when I got back, and even if she was wearing more clothing than she is now, it wouldn’t keep my thoughts from wondering. Not now that I know what secrets her body holds. I’ve always considered her attractive, but having my hands, my mouth, on her body, not to mention my dick inside her, woke something in me I haven’t let myself consider before now.

  I like her.

  A lot.

  Even when she’s getting under my skin, I still want to be around her. Even when she’s totally spazzing out, I will find reasons to be near her.

  “Hey,” she says softly and lifts a steaming mug in my direction in greeting. I give her a soft wave and turn toward the coffeemaker, grab myself a mug from the cupboard above, and pour myself a cup. All without looking at her. I’m not sure how to look at her now without completely giving myself away, giving away how hopelessly into her I am.

  Maybe she won’t notice if I never look at her again.

  I shake the thought away and cross to the refrigerator, dump creamer into my mug. At some point, we’re going to need to talk about what happened earlier. Was it a mistake? Does she want to do it again? Do I?