Constructing Us (New Adult Romance)

by Lake, C. J.

  “Look I’m just gonna be honest here,” he declared. There was a determined set to his features, as he pushed off the counter--which brought him forward a little, causing her instinctively to back up. “When I’m into a girl, I want her all for myself,” he said in that low, rumbling voice of his. He backed her up another step, his dark, penetrating eyes burning into hers. “No other guy should be kissing her or touching her.” Edging back, Andy felt strangely exhilarated as Tragan continued, possessively, “Or waking up next to her. Only me.”

  Managing a feeble nod, Andy wet her lips and was about to say something--or to grab his tee shirt and kiss him again--when abruptly, Tragan added: “So, if you think you’re going to string Brad and me along at the same time, let me tell you--”

  “I broke up with Brad.”

  The sudden interruption stopped him short. In fact, Andy’s words seemed to hang in the scant space between them while Tragan reacted. Surprise flickered across his face. A beat passed before his brows lifted hopefully. “You did?”

  Andy nodded.

  “When?”

  “Tonight--as soon as I saw him.”

  “Well…why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t get a chance!” she replied truthfully. “Obviously I was planning to mention it.”

  “I didn’t hear from you all day,” Tragan muttered.

  “I’m sorry!” Andy said, taking his hand. “I left my phone here by accident. You know how frazzled I was this morning. I’m sure you remember. Anyway, I texted you when I got back. Didn’t you get it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry. Maybe I should have called instead. I did send it, though. Want to see my phone?”

  “No, I believe you,” Tragan assured her, tugging her closer. “Brad said he was taking you out for a romantic night.”

  With a slight shrug, Andy said, “Well, maybe that was his plan. But I told him we needed to talk.”

  Just then Tragan’s phone buzzed. Reluctantly, it seemed, he let go of Andy’s hand so he could grab it from his back pocket. “Oh, it’s just Bardo,” he said dismissively and put it away.

  “You can answer it; maybe it’s important.”

  “No,” he said with half a laugh, “it’s not important. I can guarantee you that.”

  Two seconds later, his phone vibrated again.

  “Man, why is he calling me?” Tragan muttered when he saw the screen. This time he answered. “What’s up, Bardo? Nah, I’m home now. I’m just gonna crash. Yeah, too much tequila. Yep. All right, later.” After he returned the phone to his pocket, he gave Andy a grin. “See, told you, not important. He was just letting me know that they’re heading to the Billiard Grill now. I’m too tired, though.”

  The fact that Tragan had passed on hanging out with his friends gave Andy pause. He was tired and so was she; they shouldn’t try to force any kind of understanding right now. This morning, admittedly, she’d freaked out--once the carnal, animalistic craze of sex with Tragan had settled--because she’d felt embarrassed and self-conscious about losing control like that, about clawing at him like a horny fiend, especially when she hadn’t broken up with Brad yet. That was the worst part of it: the guilt she felt instantly, as soon as she and Tragan finished.

  Plus, she wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to mornings-after. The only other man she’d slept with was Brad, and it had been within the context of a relationship. With Tragan… well, they hadn’t established what this was going to be. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to try to settle that if Tragan’s evening consisted of “too much tequila.”

  “You know what?” she said now. “Let’s start fresh tomorrow.” Appearing confused, Tragan narrowed his eyes at her. “We’ve both had a really long day,” Andy continued. “Especially you, helping your friend move--plus, you’ve had a few drinks. I’m sure you’re exhausted, so why don’t you just get some sleep now? We can talk tomorrow.”

  Feeling quite reasonable and mature, though missing him already, Andy started to walk away. “Wait--hold up,” Tragan called after her. The next thing she knew, he caught her hand and turned her back around. Her breath hitched and her pulse quickened. She was nervously unsure as to what might happen. “So…you’re going to sleep now?” Tragan said. Though the question was casual, his voice was low and intimate. As usual his sexy, masculine voice seemed to thrum over all her nerve endings.

  “No, I’ll probably read for a little while,” she replied, trying to keep her own voice neutral, and not betray the powerful sexual attraction pulsing through her. Obviously Tragan knew she was attracted to him, but he might not realize how much she ached for him this very moment. Or how she’d already mentally replayed their morning together over and over…

  “C’mon, Andy,” he said and began walking her backward again. This time he seemed to be doing it deliberately. “That’s not fair. I’m supposed to go to my room and just fall asleep? Knowing that you’re on the other side of the apartment…” As Tragan kept crowding her, Andy was inching back, feeling more breathless with each step. “…in your bed,” he continued huskily, “lying there…reading? Like that’s not supposed to torture me?”

  Suddenly her back hit the refrigerator.

  “Torture you?” Andy repeated with an incredulous, shaky laugh. “Why, does reading turn you on?”

  Looming over her, mere inches away, Tragan gave a wolfish smile. “Only when you’re doing it,” he said. Then he brought one hand up to rest on the freezer. Followed by the other--effectively blocking her in with his arms.

  Andy’s heart began to race. Her breathing became shallow, her mouth dry. Tragan was so close, she could feel the heat emanating off his body. Of course she wanted to hook up with him again--she couldn’t deny that fact, least of all to herself--but she also wanted to keep a clear head about this. Not rush into another spur-of-the-moment, mad-frenzy sexual encounter. Yet… when he was standing this close to her, when she could feel his heat and inhale his scent, it was hard to think of anything else except having his hands on her and grinding against him.

  Now, Tragan leaned his head down, bringing his face closer to hers. There was barely enough space between them for a sliver of moonlight. In the darkness, hints of tequila wafted to Andy’s nose. Impulsively, playfully, she asked, “By the way…are you drunk?”

  “Nah,” Tragan murmured, dipping his head lower still. “Barely just a little,” was his nonsensical answer before he brushed his lips over hers.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Any feeble, halfhearted resistance that Andy might have intended crumbled as soon as Tragan kissed her. “Andy…I’ve missed you,” he whispered seductively, brushing another soft kiss on her mouth, then another.

  “I missed you, too,” she murmured on a sigh. She combed her fingers into his hair and lightly tugged, wanting more. With a rough groan, Tragan intensified the kiss, cupping the back of her neck and sliding his tongue deep, while he pushed her up against the fridge.

  In seconds, it seemed, they were all over each other, kissing hungrily. God, it was this morning all over again, but she couldn’t seem to help it. Nearly trembling, she clung to Tragan’s tee shirt as she surrendered to his mouth, his hands, every erotically charged detail. He lifted off her shirt. Soon he was running his hands over her breasts, around her waist, then on her ass--grunting as he jerked her lower body up against his. Andy let out a helpless moan when she felt how hard and aroused he was, especially when he rubbed into that tender spot between her legs.

  For several minutes, their eager panting was the only sound that filled the darkened kitchen. Until Tragan ran his fingers under the waistband of her pants and started skimming beneath her panties, and Andy said, “Wait--”

  “What’s wrong?” he rasped.

  “Nothing, just…” She exhaled a deep, shuddering breath, trying to collect herself. Then tried to think of what she was even trying to say. Finally, placing her hand on Tragan’s shoulder, she said, “Sorry, it’s… maybe we should think abo
ut this.”

  Tragan surprised her by laughing. It was a short, brusque laugh--followed by his warm palm sliding behind her neck again and his mouth descending on hers. “Don’t worry, I’ve already thought about this all day,” he whispered, before he kissed her again.

  “Wait…” Andy repeated when their mouths pulled apart, and settled her hand flat on his chest to get his attention. “I just mean: let’s think about this. Do we really want to dive into another random, impulsive hook-up like we did this morning?”

  “Hell, yeah,” he replied automatically. Then added: “But there’s nothing random about us; I don’t even understand what that means.”

  “Maybe ‘random’ is the wrong word,” Andy admitted, already starting to cave, and wondering why she’d bothered to interrupt him when he was so thoroughly turning her on. Really, did she want to deprive herself pleasure?

  “And there’s nothing impulsive about this, either,” Tragan insisted, as the hand he had beneath her panties slid lower. She sighed weakly and leaned into him. “I’ve been wanting this non-stop since we met.” Andy’s breath caught in her throat, as his fingers grazed over her opening, setting her blood on fire. When he felt how wet she was, Tragan swore under his breath. Then moved his mouth to her ear. His voice was low and rough when he said, “You know what I thought about the most today?” Andy couldn’t even formulate a response with Tragan’s hand deep inside her panties, and his finger running teasingly over her. “Watching you come,” he said--and abruptly slid two fingers inside her.

  She gasped hard. For a second, she couldn’t quite catch her breath. The shock of sensation caught her off guard, but changed almost instantly to hot, seeping pleasure. Tragan stroked her so intimately, so skillfully, that Andy was literally shivering with arousal, feeling on the cusp of an orgasm.

  Tragan grabbed a fistful of her hair, tilting her head back, so he could trail his tongue down her neck. Soon Andy was rocking her body restlessly, making choking gasps as he plunged his fingers in and out aggressively. Suddenly, he whispered, “Is that too rough?”

  “No…no…” she assured him, her voice ragged as she clutched his tee shirt with one hand and reached up to encircle his neck with the other. She pulled him down for a wet, searing kiss. “Oh, my God,” she breathed against his lips, “you turn me on so much.” Tragan groaned in response, sounding starved for her. “Please,” Andy gasped, “I need you--now.”

  “Right here?” he said hoarsely.

  “Yes.”

  Hurriedly she shed her pajama pants and panties. Then began pushing up Tragan’s tee shirt. Taking the cue, he yanked it over his head, while Andy ran her mouth on his stomach and grappled with the fly of his jeans.

  Soon, his zipper was open and he was hoisting her up against the fridge, murmuring roughly in her ear, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard right now.” Andy moaned and clung to him, hoping he meant it, as the insistent throb between her legs pounded even harder.

  Just as she felt Tragan pressing into her, she had a spontaneous moment of clarity. “Wait--condoms,” she managed.

  “Oh…Jesus, sorry,” he said right away. He paused for a second, as if still in a haze, before carefully setting her back down. “Wait, I have one!” Fumbling around in his back pocket, he eventually pulled a condom from his wallet.

  That caught Andy’s attention, making her moment of clarity even sharper. She felt an immediate stab of jealousy, recalling what Tragan had said that morning about meeting Pellican’s sister’s friend. “Why did you bring that with you today?” she asked, trying not to sound possessive or hurt.

  Tragan gave a laugh, assuring her, “Trust me, this has been in my wallet forever.” After he said it, they both seemed to have the same thought--their eyes met for a second--before he looked down at the condom, squinting in the moonlight to read the wrapper. Then he grinned at her. “Don’t worry, it’s still good.”

  “C’mon,” she said, tugging on his arm. “Let’s just go to my room.”

  As they hurried toward the kitchen exit, Tragan kept kissing her and Andy was grabbing onto him, trying to balance, and before either knew what was happening, one of them stumbled over the lift in the tile, and both ended up on the hall floor.

  “Shit--are you okay?” Tragan asked, sounding like the wind was knocked out of him. Helplessly, Andy laughed; she had to, this was just too ridiculous, and so much for keeping a clear head during her next encounter with Tragan. She was naked and lying flat on her back on a cold hardwood floor, and at this moment, couldn’t imagine anywhere else she’d rather be.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, then noticed that the condom had dropped beside them. Impetuously, she reached for it. “Here.” Tragan’s eyes dropped to the condom then drifted back to Andy’s. His hooded gaze became smoldering as she licked her lips. “I can’t wait anymore.”

  It all would have seemed surreal if it wasn’t so visceral--so erotic--so burning hot. Tragan sliding into her…Andy’s eyes dropping shut…their hands everywhere…then, Tragan pulling up on his knees, gripping Andy’s thighs as he drove himself deeper, rubbing against her g-spot with each thrust. Desperately, she panted, her body writhing, her neck arching. God, was he doing that on purpose? she wondered hazily. Or was he just getting lucky with that angle? No…it had to be deliberate. He had to know exactly what he was doing: working her up into such a fever pitch that her climax was inevitable.

  And then it happened. White hot pleasure spread through her as the friction became too intense to bear, and a shattering orgasm wracked her body. As she cried out, Tragan bucked his hips even harder, faster…until he groaned raggedly with his own devastating climax.

  “Oh my God,” Andy whispered shakily. Still breathing hard, Tragan collapsed beside her, careful not to crush her with his weight this time.

  Afterward, they lay on the floor together quietly. Andy’s head was still blissfully muddled until a sound interrupted her haze. It was a faint, rasping sound--the sound of Tragan snoring--and again she had to laugh.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The next morning Tragan awoke on the floor, alone.

  Sunlight streamed from the kitchen, hitting his eyes as he blinked awake. He slowly registered the dull throbbing in his skull as he lifted it up and looked around. The comforter from his bed lay on top of him, and a throw pillow from the couch had been tucked under his head. There was a wet circle on it. Drool? Nice, he thought deprecatingly, and slowly rose to his feet.

  As he pulled his jeans up, images from the night before sprinted through his mind. Andy. Where was she? First, he glanced in her bedroom. The bed was made and the room was neat except for the high piles of books populating one corner. “Andy?” he called, even though he could tell he was alone in the apartment.

  Heaving a sigh, he tried to ignore the pounding in his head and crossed to his own room. Last night was unbelievable. Yet, at the same time, not exactly a shining moment. In the light of day, if Andy cared about maturity, pompous Brad seemed to have the edge. Here Brad had planned a special romantic night for her. What had Tragan done? Gotten jealous, gone out drinking, then come home reeking of tequila and ended up taking her on the floor. God, he hoped Andy didn’t have any regrets this morning. He needed a chance to show her that he wasn’t a complete jackass--that he could be a mature boyfriend, too. That he was solid and she could count on him.

  After a steaming hot shower, he got dressed and went to the kitchen--where he found Andy, setting a to-go cup on the table, along with a bag from Carl’s Kitchen, the breakfast place they’d gone to together. This morning she was dressed in a worn pink tee shirt that enticingly outlined her breasts, and faded blue jeans that curved perfectly over her cute ass. Suddenly she looked over. Tragan smiled at her. “Hey.”

  “Hi there,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  Coming closer, Tragan made a grunting kind of sound and a face to match. “I was just going to make coffee.”

  “I got you some. Here’s everything you’ll probably need t
his morning.” Next to the to-go coffee and bag were a bottle of water and three Advil on a napkin.

  “Bless you,” Tragan said gratefully and scooped up the Advil first. After chucking them down with a swig of water, he eyed her carefully and said, “So please tell me that I didn’t have a smoking hot encounter on the floor with myself last night.”

  Andy smiled almost coyly at him. “It wasn’t a dream if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Thank God. But…you left.”

  “I had to. You were out cold and it got freezing out there.” With a nod, he dropped into the chair and reached for the bag. “We should talk,” Andy said.

  “Oh, no,” Tragan said apprehensively, pausing as he took out his breakfast sandwich. “Is this how you lowered the boom to Brad? Are we about to have one of those talks?”

  “No, stop it.” She pulled out the chair adjacent to his and sat down. “Tragan,” she began evenly, not quite meeting his eyes. “You know how I feel about you.”

  “How?” he said cautiously. She hesitated, her gaze still ducking behind her lashes, so he said, “Do you feel the way that I feel?”

  Now Andy looked at him straight on. Her voice was almost timid. “I hope so.”

  Grabbing her hand, Tragan told her, “Look, I want us to be together.”

  In response, Andy gave him the sweetest, most genuine smile. He almost couldn’t ask for more than that. “Me, too,” she said, lacing her fingers through his.

  A smile broke across Tragan’s face, too. “Good, then it’s done.”

  “And I’m sorry about yesterday morning,” she offered. “I know I acted kind of awkward. I just got so flustered in that moment.”

  Shaking his head, Tragan insisted, “Forget it. I’m just happy you’re here with me now.”

  “And you really never got my text last night?”

  “No.”

  Andy leaned forward to pull her cell out of her back pocket. She scrolled up to “sent messages” and found it for him. “See, here it is.”