My body gives in, falling back down onto the mattress. He hovers above me now, shaggy hair falling into his concerned brown eyes.
“All right.” I trace his jawline with the tip of my finger. “You’re right.”
“I have to be up really fucking early, but you’ll have the house to yourself in the morning. The guys and I have to be out the door by five.”
“Five?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is it even light out that early?”
“Barely.”
“Rhett?”
He gazes down adoringly.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being such a…girl.”
He rears back, grinning. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” I worry my bottom lip with a sigh. “That I’m letting my insecurities get the best of me.”
“Uh, okay.” Translation: I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.
“You know what would make me feel better?”
His brows rise.
I raise one of mine.
Two seconds later, he’s on his haunches, peeling off his shirt.
He’s hot and horny, wanting to have sex constantly, the condoms we had almost entirely gone once we rescued them from under the dresser.
“Laurel?” The gentle whisper comes from somewhere above my head. A light caress touches my back. “Laurel, I’ve gotta go.”
I roll to my back, his hand taking the short journey across my flesh when I turn. Stretch, sheet sliding down my pale skin.
Groggy but not blind, I catch when his eyes roam my naked upper body. Give him a tired little smirk and let him ogle my amazing breasts.
“Mmm, morning baby.” I can’t help calling him that; it feels so right.
“Sorry to wake you, I just wanted to say goodbye.”
When his hand settles on the flat of my stomach, I reach for it. Drag it up my ribcage, resting it on my breast. His thumb immediately begins a tender stroke over the crest.
“You have to leave right this second?” I whisper, hand reaching out to stroke along the visible outline of his dick beneath black mesh gym shorts. I wonder if he’s ever had morning sex, or at least thought about it, about having it with me. Probably not since he’s standing next to the bed, completely dressed, showered, and ready to leave. “Once more before you go, please babe.”
“Once more what before I go?”
Is he serious? “A quickie.”
Rhett wars with himself, debating, and I wonder if it has more to do with my hand on his junk, his hand on my boob, or my use of the word babe.
His cock, at eye level, twitches. Grows.
My arms stretch above my head lazily. Breasts tempting, hair fanned on his pillow, I know I’m an alluring sight, unfurled like a cat in the sun. Irresistible to his hormonal, raging body.
I know it’s wrong to make him choose, but I want slow, orgasmic, morning sex, and I want it now.
“Make love to me real quick,” I whisper, hips rolling beneath the sheets, already damp between my legs. “Please, baby.”
Baby: I know with that one word, I’ve got him by the balls.
Duffle dropping like a lead weight to the floor, Rhett hurriedly yanks his shirt up over his head. Shucks his shorts, shoving them down his muscular thighs. Crawls under the covers between my spread my legs, palm running up my calf, leg, cupping my breast. Squeezes gently. Sucks a nipple.
He’s a fantasy come to life, hard as a rock and warm and smelling like peppermint. Shampoo and woodsy soap. Feels like heaven in the dusky morning light barely filtering through the sheer curtains.
“Gotta make this quick.” Hesitates before pushing in. Long and hot, he’s already learned what makes my body purr. “Shhhit, Laurel.”
Wide awake and full of raw power, his hips thrust, doing all the work for both of us, face buried in the crook of my neck, mouth on my skin. Hips rolling slowly at first, his stiff cock hitting my sweet spot almost immediately.
Ah, the beauty of morning sex—or maybe I’m just so turned on by him I was already halfway there.
When Rhett’s large hands grip my ass, sinking in as deep as he can go and pumping into me wildly, I whimper, clinging to him, orgasm imminent.
Horny, adrenaline-fueled Rhett feels…is…
“Perfect. So perfect.”
We make no sounds when we come, no grunts, no moans.
Just the sound of our heavy breathing in the first light of day, bodies pressed so closely together there’s no room between us, not even for a whisper.
His kiss hits my lips when he pulls out; rising to clean himself up, he gathers his clothes to pull them on. I watch him dress, sated, chin propped on my elbow.
His body is chiseled perfection. His heart? Sweet and a bit naïve.
Mine flutters, observing him hustle around his room; he deserves this wave of love I suddenly feel for him.
We both do.
“Breakfast in the fridge.” He swoops in again to kiss the pulse in my neck, lips lingering. “My parents will be in section three, right where you sat last time. My mom will be watching for you.”
I roll up in his covers. “Kay.”
“Bye.” Long pause. “Babe.”
My heart races when he tests the endearment for the first time, leaving me just a little bit breathless. Jeez, I miss him, and he hasn’t walked out the door yet.
Get a grip, Laurel. “See you later, baby. Good luck.”
One more sweet kiss to my collarbone and he’s gone.
I flop down on his pillow, burying my face in the space he recently occupied. Give it a sniff, sighing all over again. Roll onto his sleeping spot and slip into blissful, satisfied slumber.
Laurel
“Laurel sweetie, over here!” An enthusiastic hand goes up in the third row, waving furiously. I don’t know how I manage to spot her in the massive crowd, but the arm is attached to Mrs. Rabideaux; she beams at me as I make my way down the bleachers, down the stadium steps.
I shuffle my way toward Rhett’s family, cheeks flaming hot, already embarrassed. The last time I saw his mother, I was leaving her son’s house, post-coital, ratty sex hair and all.
But, I suck it up; if he and I are going to be long-term, then I have to get this whole awkward situation over with and move past it.
Pasting on a smile, I weave my way through the third row, toward the empty spot next to Rhett’s mother. Her smile is so big, arms welcoming, some of the anxiety melts away. When I finally reach them, her arms embrace me. Squeeze.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” Mrs. Rabideaux enthuses. “Normally it’s always just me at these things with all these men.”
“Thank you for letting me sit with you, Mrs. Rabideaux.” I have to raise my voice so she can hear me. “Honestly, I’ve only been to one of these, and I brought my roommates so I didn’t have to come alone.”
“Please, call me Wendy.”
I blush. “Thank you, Wendy.”
“Sit, sit. Here, I brought seat cushions. This promises to be a long match—they’re getting ready for qualifiers.”
I plop down beside her on the Iowa stadium seat. “Qualifiers for what?”
“The NCAA championships. They’re coming up soon—next month.”
“Oh!” I didn’t know that. “Has Rhett ever won anything like that?” Could I be any more clueless?
“Twice,” she boasts, puffing out her chest with pride.
“Twice!” My heart races. “Wow. I mean, I knew he was good, but…twice?” I scan the mats in front of us for that face I’ve grown to adore. Find him pacing, decked out in black pants, track jacket. Black shoes with white stripes slashed through the side.
“Why aren’t they wearing headgear?”
“It’s optional at this level. Some wrestlers choose not to wear it because it gets in the way.” She drones on. “In high school—not that it matters anymore—he was All-American, sweetie. Didn’t you know that?”
All-American? “What does that mean?”
“It means he was one of the best high school wrestlers in the nation, along with near perfect grades.”
Wendy’s eyes catch me ogling her son, and she shoots me a sidelong glance before joining my perusal. “How is he doing? Honestly.”