Head Over Feels

by Scott, S. L.

  “I never shy away from a challenge.” Scooping me into his arms, he carries me the rest of the way.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  I get comfortable on top of the mattress as Rad settles between my legs. It’s not the first time we’ve done this. We’ve become experts in the art of making out, but this time, it feels like the love we’re making is reaching deeper than the physical part of our bodies connecting.

  We’re alone.

  Endless hours alone with him is what I’ve wanted since our first kiss. Now that I have it and his complete attention, this feels like a step we can walk back from. Seeing him go into it wholeheartedly has me leaving my nerves behind and enjoying it. “Take off your shirt,” I say a little too eagerly.

  “So demanding, Miss Bell.”

  He still gets up and undresses completely, which I appreciate. Why drag out what we both want anyway?

  With my hands behind my head, I watch unabashedly. Maybe I should feel some shame, but I’ve never seen or been with a man so sculpted as he is. He’s a work of art, and I gratuitously take him in from head to toe and every delicious inch between. He works too hard on that body not to appreciate the effort he puts in. It would be rude of me not to.

  That roguish smile.

  The dip of his head as his eyes remain on me.

  Those abs. THOSE ABS. I want to shout about them from the rooftops. I want to thank every crunch that made them possible.

  While I’m busy fanning myself, he asks, “You look like you’re enjoying this.”

  “I am. Very much,” I purr, letting my inner thoughts speak for me. Pinching my fingers, I kiss the tips. “Compliments to the chef.”

  Chuckling, he slides his hands up the sides of my hips, pops the snap of my jeans, and works the zipper down. “Your turn.”

  I bite my bottom lip and lift, letting him strip my legs bare. “You weren’t lying,” he says. I look down and am quickly reminded. I could let my insecurities take hold of me and ruin the moment, but this feels too good, too right, to get caught up in that mess tonight.

  “Why would I?” I ask the sexiest man alive, currently pinning me to the mattress just from the look of lust blazing in his eyes.

  Lifting my leg over his shoulder, he kisses the inside of my knee and then down my thigh. “God, I love you.”

  We both freeze, but I know what he meant. “Never heard a thing.”

  Carrying on like that three-word phrase didn’t come from his mouth, he presses his hands to my belly and slides under my shirt. When his lips reach the curve of my hips, he squeezes my breasts.

  Hot breath covers my core, and my back arches in response. I’m already so turned on that I’m willing to skip the foreplay to get to the main event. I start by pulling Rad higher. “Come here.”

  His elbows anchor him to the bed on either side of my head, and he runs his finger along my lower lip. Slow. Savoring. Seductive. He kisses me, and whispers, “Not until you come, beautiful.”

  Beautiful. My heart dances in his words.

  If I weren’t already lying down, I’d thud right to the ground. He moves back down, his lips covering me. Kissing my mouth is romantic, but kissing my body exactly where I want him draws a moan from deep within myself.

  The magic of his tongue, the way he holds me as though I might slip away, has me on the verge of falling. “Oh God, Rad.”

  The pressure picks up, and he sucks harder, dives deeper, his fingers teasing the spot that will send me into pure bliss. My mind floats with the stars as my body tremors through the release.

  Sinking into the mattress, I didn’t realize I was fisting his hair until I stretch my fingers. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” When he crawls up my body, I feel his erection hard against my thigh. Our kisses become hurried despite the sense of peace I feel inside. He kisses my neck, and I kiss his.

  Licking his Adam’s apple is a glorious thing. Each weighted gulp is a reflection of how I make him feel. I love it. “I want you, Rad.”

  “Thank fuck because I want to be inside you so badly.” The hunger in his voice and the growl rooted in his words make me squirm even more. But then he pushes up. “Fuck. I’ll be back.”

  “What?” I lift to my elbows. “Why?”

  He’s harder to read under the scrutiny of his own frustration. “I didn’t come prepared.”

  “You haven’t come at all. Not yet,” I say, winking.

  Kissing me quick, he says, “Punny girl,” and then gets up.

  “Just in case you’ve forgotten, I do happen to have a stash of condoms.”

  “A large stash, from what I remember.” His snark has reached his grin before he leaves the room. As if he wasn’t already sexy, that smirk causes me to rub my thighs together like a dang cricket, wanting him down there again. “Did you bring them with you?”

  “I might have one or two, or ninety exactly in the box over there.”

  I can practically see the calculations spinning in his head. The answer isn’t hard to figure out, but the images populating are probably stumbling blocks. To lighten the mood again, I say, “Sadly, one was lost in the move.”

  “It’s probably still on the stairs. Should we go check?” When he chuckles, it makes me happy that we can laugh about it now.

  Digging through the box, he widens his eyes. “Damn, woman. What am I going to do with you?” Holding up a handful of condoms, he says, “I can’t say I’m too upset over the fact that you have so many left.”

  “Got big plans there, Welly?”

  Tossing them on the mattress, he says, “I sure do,” and then dives back on the bed. “Because once we make love, gorgeous, I’m going to take you again, and probably again after that.”

  “Where are you takin’ me?”

  “Straight to heaven, baby.”

  I burst out laughing. “Wowsa. That was a doozy of a line. I wasn’t prepared. But the way you’re throwing around that sweet phrase making love has me thinking you might be the one going to heaven.”

  Tugging my top off, he says, “You won’t be needing this.”

  “In heaven?”

  He clicks his tongue and winks, and then runs a finger down my chest between my breasts. “You’re too goddamn beautiful. You know that, Bell?”

  “No, keep telling me,” I say, lifting to plant a kiss on his head.

  His eyes dart to mine, and he stares in all seriousness. “You’re so beautiful that it was hard to look at you over the past whatever number of years and realize that I’d never have the privilege of telling you how I feel.”

  My heart thumps against his hand that flattened to my chest, my secret of how he makes me feel felt between us. I caress his cheek and give a gentle smile. “You say the most romantic things. If you’re not careful, I might believe them.”

  He smiles and kisses me on the lips. “I hope you do one day.”

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I hold him close. “Don’t go falling in love, Counselor. It never ends well, remember?”

  “I’m sorry I ever gave you that impression.”

  “What impression is that?”

  “That true love doesn’t exist.”

  Still embracing as much as I can in my arms, I whisper, “It does?”

  He lowers his gaze and kisses my chest again. I’m not sure if he’s avoiding the question or distracted by other things, namely me naked underneath him. So, I say, “It’s okay. We’ll just file that under other things we’ll never mention again.”

  “For now, it’s probably best, Miss Bell.”

  I’m not going to spend time overanalyzing what just went wrong when I’m not willing to take that step and say those words either. Instead, a craving I have for him has become an ache in my core.

  “As you please, Mr. Wellington.”

  The cockiest smirk of all time lands on his face. Leaning down, he kisses the top mounds of my breasts, leaving me squirming and panting for more. “The death of me,” he mutters under his breath just befo
re he begins sheathing himself.

  “Don’t tease,” I say, watching him. Purposely teasing him, I run the tips of my fingers down my neck and over one breast, then the other.

  “There won’t be any more teasing. I plan to follow through when I make love to you.” He positions his body over mine, and I can’t resist feeling his solid muscles. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him hard with intention one last time before we cross that final line.

  Make love, where my heart, body, and soul are invested in him. This is something I want to share with Rad.

  With a slight shift in our bodies, he pushes in. My eyes close, and my head dips back, my back arching and my breath shortening as we become one. The stretch and burn that I’ve come to know with him flicker to life inside as the heat we create has me shedding the sheet from our bodies. I move against him, wanting more—harder, faster—and more of him. All of him.

  There’s pleasure found in the scrape of his five o’clock shadow against my chin. I’ve come to yearn for the rawness I feel after kissing him, the burn a reminder of how hot his mouth is against mine. God, this man doesn’t just do things to me. He does everything to me—makes my heart beat heavy in my chest, causes goose bumps to cover my skin, and has me believing that we’re more than friends with benefits, trusting his words and the way he makes me feel inside and out.

  Beautiful.

  Respected.

  Sexy.

  His body takes mine as I take his, meeting him thrust for thrust, pulse for racing pulse, trading my harsh breathing for his, and begging for more. He chants, “I’ve wanted you for so long . . . so long, baby.” Baby falls from his lips in lust, from a deep desire he can’t control, just between us. Even though he says he’s wanted me since we met, it still feels surreal to be with him now.

  “Rad . . .” His name is my mantra that plays on repeat.

  “God, you feel so good.”

  It’s too much—his deep voice, the rhythm we find pushing us to our limits, toward that cliff, the feel of him everywhere—in, out, and all around me, taking me body and soul. Kissing my neck, he dips his hand to rub just the right place above our connection. “So good.”

  Our bodies are still bonded when his eyes lock on mine, his biceps carved of stone when he rises above me, my own personal Michelangelo staring back at me. A growl vibrates through him, spurring him to pump harder.

  He kisses my cheek and works his way to my ear, whispering, “I won’t . . .” His brows pinch when the words appear too heavy a burden to share.

  As I run my nails along his jawline, my own feelings bloom inside. I ask, “You won’t what, Rad?”

  On the tip of a breath, he replies, “I won’t ever hurt you.”

  I lift and kiss where my fingers were. “I know.”

  We lose ourselves in each other with kisses and thrusts, moans, and names uttered as prayers.

  Begging for this to last forever, I’m conflicted as I race toward the finish, feeling too good to take things slow. I watch his stomach muscles tense and flex, his biceps working to pump and push, hold and move, a dance between what he wants and his body’s desire. Incredible is not fitting for this man.

  The coil tightens my core, and I take a breath to release the pressure, but there’s no holding back any longer. We fall together this time, lost in our passion and the sound of love being made until my heart escapes my soul, choosing to embed it into his chest instead. “Oh, my God. Yes. Rad.” I squeeze my eyes closed as my body awakens.

  “I need you, baby,” he groans as if the words themselves pain him in his pleasure. He follows me, drifting into the sweet abyss. Then his body collapses on top of me, his weight locked in my embrace.

  He was right. Pure heaven.

  He rolls to the side and tries to catch his breath. I’m not sure how long we lie there before our heartbeats regulate. I look over at him. “I didn’t think it could be like that.”

  “You asked for spectacular,” he says, his breath grazing across my skin.

  “You delivered.” I reach over and run my fingers through his hair. “It was spectacular.”

  I smile and then kiss his head and his temple, rubbing his back until he catches his breath. “You’re pretty spectacular yourself.”

  Night arrived before we had a chance to say goodbye to the day. Finding my hand between us, he brings it to his lips and looks my way. With only the light from the living room slipping in through the door, it would be so easy to fall asleep in his arms. And I almost do until I hear him say, “You’re spectacular.”

  If there’s one thing I’ve always loved about Rad, it’s his motto of not saying anything for the sake of appeasement. I know they’re not just words to him.

  They’re his truth, which becomes mine because when I’m with him, I feel spectacular. He has given me that power.

  Sliding onto my side, I drape my leg over his and rest my head on his chest.

  His heart is beating fast and strong, and I begin to fall—floating in this bliss, finding sleep, and into love.

  28

  Rad

  I had sex with Tealey Bell.

  Made love.

  Did the deed.

  Hit a home run.

  Whatever I want to call it, it happened, and I haven’t stopped grinning since. Except when we slept, though I’m pretty sure I smiled all night since my cheeks hurt when I woke up.

  “You must have been having sweet dreams last night,” she says, her eyes still trained on the paperback resting on her lap.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, not because I don’t know the answer already but because I want her to know.

  I lower the newspaper and look at the beauty on the other end of the couch. We woke up early since we went to bed around nine after wearing each other out. The sun hasn’t even come up, but I’m already wishing it was a weekend so we could spend all day like this.

  She looks right at home here, and that brings me more pleasure than it probably should, considering she’ll be living in her own space again one day.

  My grin is gone.

  Long brown lashes tap above her eyes when she looks up at me, free of makeup but more stunning than ever. I give in and start smiling because whether I get her for a month or a year, I’ll take her and appreciate the time instead of wasting it.

  She says, “Because you grinned all night like you just scored your favorite candy.”

  “I did.”

  There it is—the sweet blush that covers her cheeks, eyes that can’t hide how a simple compliment makes her feel, and the twitch of her lips as she tries to hide that pretty smile. She can’t. Just like I can’t.

  “I don’t know anyone who still reads a newspaper. You know they have the news on your phone, TV, and pretty much everywhere you can get Wi-Fi these days.”

  I chuckle. “I like holding something in my hands. I stare at a screen most of the day and then again most nights. It’s nice to take a break and read the old-fashioned way.” Leaning forward, I tap the top of her book. “What about you? There are e-books and audiobooks, but you’re always reading paperbacks.”

  “I guess, like you, I like the feel of it in my hands, and I bought this book used to give it another life.” She holds it to her nose. “I love the smell of the paper, the dust from the old shelves, and the life this book has lived before it became a part of mine.” She rests her head sideways on the back cushion, and her smile is so right. Wriggling her feet over to me, she tucks them under my legs. “Can you play hooky today?”

  “There’s nothing I’d rather do than spend the day with you.” The newspaper crinkles in protest when I lean over to kiss her. She meets me halfway, and our lips press together. “But I have court this afternoon.”

  Flopping back to opposite sides of the couch, she says, “I’d take this morning.”

  “Is that something you can do?”

  “I have so much stockpiled time off and nothing scheduled that someone else can’t handle.”

&
nbsp; “Then, why’d you have to use your lunch hour for the move?”

  “They only count full days and I didn’t want to use a day when I only need an hour. I’ll take the day, but what do you say to skipping out for a few hours?”

  “How can I say no? “I’ll text Ashleigh.” I reach for my phone, but she covers my hand.

  “Maybe wait until six or seven.”

  It’s incredible that the world already feels like it revolves around our plans. “Six. She’s used to it.”

  “She shouldn’t be.”

  “Good point, Miss Bell.” Technically, I shouldn’t be playing hooky with the possibility of partnership on the line, but Ashleigh will vouch for hours spent working from home. I set my phone back on the coffee table and pick up my ‘I’m not feeling worky today’ mug. “Something tells me you had this planned all along.”

  She asks, “What should we do with the next six or seven hours?”

  “Movies? Walk in Central Park? Shopping? Baseball Playoffs? Coffee? Go out for lunch? Whatever you want to do, I want, too.”

  Closing her book, she tosses it to the coffee table and gets to her knees, crawling over to me. I toss the paper behind me, welcoming her onto my lap. “I want to stay in. However long I can have you.” She kisses me, and then dips to my ear to whisper, “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

  That is not where I saw this headed. Caught by surprise, I tick through a list of contenders. I could tell her I own the building or about how I found out I’m the frontrunner for partnership, but that’s bragging stuff. I know that’s not what she means or wants. Leaning my head back, I want the honor of seeing her face every night and every day. I don’t say that in fear of scaring her off, though. I need to find something in between.

  I go with, “The shirt I was wearing the day we met has never been dry-cleaned.” Okay, that leans more toward creeper than a neutral admission, but it’s out in the open now.

  “You tossed it?” I detect a note of disappointment as her eyes fixate on mine.