Sugar on the Edge (30 page)

“Filthy boy,” she calls out, her voice still raw so I know she should be resting. “Can I please come in and watch?”

“Go away, Sweet,” I growl. “I’m not letting you and your wicked ways in.”

I hear her laughing at me and then it’s silent, so I assume she finally heeded me and went back in bed.

God, I’m so freaking horny I can’t stand it.

Me… Savannah Shepherd, the woman who can count the number of men she has been with on half of her right hand. The woman who didn’t know multiple orgasms were possible. The woman who had never had a man in her mouth.

So freakin’ horny.

After two more days of bed rest, where Gavin catered to my every need, he finally let me up and about. He wouldn’t let me do anything but sit on the couch, forcing soup and the antibiotics down my throat. Two more days after that, when he hadn’t heard my cough for at least eighteen hours, he proclaimed that I was “on the mend.”

On the mend, my ass. I am fully mended. Sure, I have a few more days of antibiotics left, which I will dutifully take, but I’m feeling fine and like I said… horny as hell.

I can hear Gavin up in his office, that damn chair he sits in squeaking and groaning periodically. I don’t dare disturb him up there, because that’s his private space and I know his mind is elsewhere.

Deciding to occupy my time, I mop the kitchen floor, dust the furniture, and do our laundry. When I finish, I’m not the slightest bit tired and slightly perturbed that Gavin hasn’t come down once to check on me. According to him, I was practically dying just two days ago.

Did I also mention I’m sexually frustrated?

With a determined straightening of my shoulders, I grab the vacuum and haul it up to the second floor. I walk into Gavin’s bedroom, unwind the cord from the back, and plug it in. I start on the far side of the room, closest to the bed, and start cleaning the rug. I start counting… slowly to myself,
One, two, three
…

I push and pull on the vacuum, bending to get it under the bed.
Four, five, six, seven
…

A few more strokes near the nightstand.
Eight, nine, ten
…

“What the fuck, Sweet?” I hear Gavin before I see him. Turning, I watch as he stalks over to the wall plug and pulls the cord out. The vacuum winds down to utter silence.

Ten seconds. Impressive.

“What?” I ask, my eyes wide and innocent.

“You’re vacuuming. You should be resting.”

“I’m not sick.”

“You’re still taking antibiotics. You’re sick.”

“Am not,” I tell him as I drop the vacuum handle, and it falls to the floor. Reaching down to the hem of the long sleeved T-shirt I’m wearing, I lift it up and pull it over my head, dropping it carelessly on the floor.

Gavin watches me intently, swallows hard, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Seducing you,” I say matter-of-factly.

His eyes roam over the peach, satin bra I had carefully chosen after my shower a few hours ago. I personally know it happens to go well with the olive tone of my skin, plus it plumps my breasts up nicely.

My hands go to the buttons on my jeans, and I shimmy out of them, kicking them over my bare feet. Gavin’s eyes feast on the matching peach panties I have on. Just to keep his attention there, I bring my hand up to my stomach, idly stroking the skin there with my fingertips. Then I drop my hand, skirting one finger under the top elastic band.

“You should be in bed,” Gavin says thickly, his eyes pinned to my hand as it sinks lower into my underwear.

“I plan to be,” I tell him throatily, begging him to move toward me.

The most I get is he drops the vacuum cord from his hand and balls his fists up tight. With a sigh, he says, “Savannah… baby… you need to rest. You have bronchitis. You don’t need to be cleaning, and you sure as hell don’t need to be wasting your precious strength fucking me.”

I’m losing him. I thought the minute I stripped, he would be mine, helpless to fight the lust that I know I can induce. What I didn’t count on was for him to be a caring, upstanding man that doesn’t want to take advantage of what I’m offering at the risk of possibly hurting me.

Stupid man.

Taking two steps, I reach the edge of the bed and crawl onto it. I position myself in the center and rise up with my elbows supporting my weight, which I happen to know thrusts my breasts outward in a provocative fashion. “Baby… filthy boy… I feel fine. I feel great, as a matter of fact, except for this aching I have right between my legs. I need you.”

“Christ,” Gavin mutters, taking half a step toward me.

“If you don’t come over here right now and give me a massive orgasm, I’m going to have to take care of myself.”

“You wouldn’t,” he declares officiously.

“Watch me,” I tell him boldly, and my hand snakes back down into my panties again… way, way down.

I touch myself with my index finger, stunned to find myself unbelievably wet. Pushing further, I lightly touch my clit. My hips fly off the bed, and a strangled moan comes out of mouth.

Gavin is on me in a second, ripping my hand from between my legs and crushing me with his body. His lips are on mine, his tongue deep in my mouth. He kisses me with a wild, pent-up energy, like a tiger being released from a cage, that hasn’t eaten for a month, and there’s a nice, juicy steak waiting for him on the outside.

“Fuck, Savannah.” He practically shoves a growl down my throat. “You drive me crazy.”

“That was the plan,” I moan, pumping my hips upward to rub against his hardness.

Gavin lifts his mouth from mine and looks at me carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him with a smile, kissing his chin, his jaw, and flexing my hips again.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises me.

“Don’t you dare,” I growl back at him.

He gives me a feral smile and plunges his tongue back in my mouth.

The bedroom is semi-dark, the light from the TV casts flickering blue shades over our bodies as I lay in Gavin’s arms. One hand is stroking my back, the other my hair.

We stayed in bed all afternoon, testing our spirits and our stamina, stopping to nap, once to eat, and then going at it again. Ten minutes ago, Gavin came inside of me supremely hard, nearly dislocating my hips with his last violent thrust, and then kissed me softly for another two minutes. When he finally lifted off my body and rolled to the side, he said, “I’m done. You’ve depleted me. I’ve got nothing left for you, love.”

I giggled and rolled into him, placing my head in the crook of his shoulder and my arm across his waist. His own arms gathered me in close, smoothing over my back and my hair, and I felt more cherished than I ever had in my whole life.

“I’m almost done with the manuscript,” Gavin says absently.

“That’s wonderful,” I tell him, threading my leg in between his, enjoying the way his coarse hair rubs up against my smooth skin.

“Will you read it?”

Lifting my head up, I look at him with excited eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Of course, I’m serious,” Gavin says with surprise that I’d even ask. “Your opinion matters to me.”

My fingers idly move over Gavin’s stomach, stroking the rolls and peaks of his pecs, letting them bump along the ridges etched in his stomach which involuntarily contracted when I touch him. I let my fingers twirl in the dark hair that starts just below his belly button, and I want to inch my hand down further, but Gavin seems to think I’ve broken him this night.

“What are you going to do? Now that you’re finished?” I ask him hesitantly, because we haven’t spoken of a future past his manuscript.

Gavin came to the Outer Banks to escape the spiraling pit of destruction he had let himself sink in to. He came specifically to write a book, and now that was almost done. Now… he has no reason to stay.

“I’m not sure,” he says carefully. “I have to go back to England at some point to take care of the house. Get Charlie’s things.”

Gavin had told me that his house in Turnbridge Wells… the one he lived in with Amanda and Charlie, had just recently sold. While his dad had a lasting power of attorney and was able to handle the details of the sale, all of Gavin’s and Charlie’s belongings had been packed up and moved to his father’s house for temporary storage.

“But, there’s no rush to do that,” he continues. “My dad said I can keep the stuff there for as long as I want. Until I decide where I want to live permanently.”

I’m silent, not knowing what to say. What I really want to say is, “Don’t leave. Stay here with me forever and let’s build something together.”

But my anti-heroine tendencies creep up at the most inopportune times, and I remain silent. Gavin remains silent too, and I take that as utter proof that he really doesn’t have any inkling as to what he wants to do. Time ticks by, and my eyes travel to the TV, which has been muted. An old re-run of
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
is on, and I amuse myself for a bit, trying to guess what crazy and snarky things Buffy might be saying at this very moment.

“Sweet?” Gavin calls to me quietly.

“Yes, Filthy,” I answer demurely and although I can’t see it, I can feel him smile.

“What if I told you I wanted to stay here… with you?”

My head pops up, and I angle my shoulders so I can face him. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly smile. “Depends on what your answer is.”

Rolling over, I flip my leg over Gavin’s and sit up straight while I straddle his lap. His hands come up to rest on my thighs, and I don’t have one bit of embarrassed shyness over my complete nudity on display before him. He’s licked every bit of modesty away.

“Gavin… I don’t have any explanation for the connection we’ve made these last several weeks, but I do know this… I don’t care if this seems fast, or furious, or crazy. I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone in my life, and it would make me so happy if you stayed. Deliriously happy, in fact.”

His hands rise up from my thighs and he cups my breasts in them, using his thumbs to gently circle over my nipples. His eyes watch the movement of his hands, and he seems lost in thought… pensive and a bit unsure.

Maybe I overstepped my bounds. Maybe I said too much… seemed too excited. Maybe I’ve turned him off to the idea of staying with me, and he’s trying to figure a way out of this mess he just created.