How in the hell had I been so stupid to take this long to reach out to him?
The tears slid from his eyes like he willed them to and he stepped back, shuddering on an inhale and swiping his hands through his hair. He turned back to the mess all over the counter and dropped his hands to his sides.
“Fuck. What the fuck was I thinking?”
I laughed and shoved my shoulder into his. “Want some help?”
“Lizzie. Wake up.” Garrett’s deep voice rumbled in my ear and I slowly opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was him hovering over me and to the right was the television.
“Did I fall asleep?”
The last thing I remembered was resting on the couch while he flipped through a variety of streaming apps while we argued over what to watch. I wanted a comedy, something light-hearted. Garrett wanted something that would blow vehicles or buildings or people sky-high. When it came to what we watched, unless it was hockey, we rarely agreed.
“Did I fall asleep because it was taking you too long to make a decision?” I asked, voice groggy from sleep.
“Sure. We can go with that.” He settled his hand at my back and brought me to sitting, sliding my feet to the floor. “It’s late. I didn’t want you to spend the night out here.”
“Thanks.” He guided me to my feet and then settled a hand at my back as we headed toward his stairs.
“Do you need some water?”
“Oh. Please.”
I went to turn, but he stopped me. “Head on up. I’ll go get it.”
“Thanks.” Between sleep, the day, and all the activity, my ankles might as well have had ten-pound weights strapped to them. Moving was difficult, slow, and I took each step like I was at the peak of Mount Everest. I was barely to the top of the stairs when Garrett’s quick steps vibrated on the stairs and he reached me.
“You’re so tired you’re almost falling over the railing.”
“I know. But I’m told it gets better. Couple of weeks and I should have more energy.”
“Good. That’s good.”
We pulled to a stop outside the bedroom. The bed looked inviting, but I couldn’t bring myself to tear away from Garrett’s gentle touch at my back.
“I should let you get your sleep,” he said, clearing his throat.
Hmm. If I wasn’t mistaken, he was having the same thought I was.
“Good night.” I peered up at him, hoping to see the look in his eyes that said he didn’t want this. That he wanted me to come with him. I craved that familiar and memorable look of heated desire that could turn me wet in a nanosecond. Instead, all I saw was conflict.
I hated it. I’d caused it. He might have been happy I was here, excited about the baby. But us? That would take more time.
I’d give it to him after I’d so royally screwed up.
He opened his mouth, but before I could hear apologies or excuses, all of which were valid, but would still send my emotions into overdrive, I rolled to my toes and kissed him.
“I get it, and it’s okay,” I whispered. “Sleep well.”
A rumble built in his chest, similar to a growl. I stepped away before he could do anything he wasn’t ready for. I’d hurt him. I’d own that. But I couldn’t see him looking so conflicted and feel the guilt of that. We had enough to figure out without weighing me down more.
I closed the door behind me, rested against it and as a yawn shook my body, I pushed off the door then headed toward the bathroom. There, I washed my face, cleaned up, did all my nightly duties with eyes half opened and a sluggishness weighing me down and slowing my movements.
I needed this second trimester and the “energy burst” I’d heard of to happen and happen soon.
I expected, once I finally fell into bed, to not remember falling asleep again.
Instead, wearing only an oversized T-shirt and my long hair braided to keep it tangle-free, I tossed and turned. I got out of bed and flicked on the ceiling fan. Back to bed and kicked off covers. Threw them back over me.
It wasn’t the heat or exhaustion making sleep difficult.
It was Garrett. The sound of the shower running. The creaks of floors and quiet thumps of doors closing.
It was being so close to him, three nights in a row and not being able to fall asleep curled in his large and hot frame. Feel the gentle brush of his arm hair on my body as he held me.
It was all it took. Memories of us together scrolled through my mind until I was so restless, the only one way I’d sleep was to take care of the need heating my body, making me wet.
Knowing him, he was resting, one arm bent behind him on a pile of pillows while he watched whatever game was on, hockey or not, or SportsCenter. His chest, with the perfect amount of hair across his pecs and down the delineation between his abs would be bare, the covers draped at his waist.
My sex throbbed at the thought, and I closed my eyes, pictured him there, remote in his hand or resting on his stomach. Maybe playing with his phone. Responding to his team’s group text and one side of his lips curled into a smile.
And I could have been there with him, had I not screwed us up.
I shoved down the irritation, the arousal building between my thighs. Three months without sex wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to, but suddenly my body felt like it’d been years.
But for now, I could think of him—and take care of myself.
I slid my hand down my belly, to the apex of my thighs where my clit was already swollen and I was already drenched. Biting down on my lip to keep a groan muffled, I slid two fingers through my center, gathering moisture before I pressed them in circles around my clit, hips arching into my timid, but familiar movement. Eyes closed, I pictured Garrett. The weight of him on me, how full I felt when he was inside of me. Two fingers pressed inside me, then three. It didn’t matter what I did to myself, there was no substitution for Garrett’s thick and long dick inside of me. A groan of frustration fell from me as I sought what he gave me so well, and I went back to rubbing my clit, the easiest way to take care of myself but even then I imagined Garrett’s mouth, his tongue, and the way he bit and sucked and flicked and played my body like his own personal orchestra.
He was gifted at everything, at least when it came to knowing how to play with my body.
I couldn’t hold it back. My fingers moved in rapid pace, with my other hand, I pinched and pulled on my nipple, squeezed my breast, tugged it until there was the slight sting of pain like when Garrett would bite them and everything culminated. My spine went white hot, my thighs trembled and right as my orgasm hit, I lost the hold on my bottom lip and a small cry of pleasure burst from me as I came, thinking of Garrett… which he could do for me so I wouldn’t only be half-satisfied.
My heart racing, I slowly came down and froze as a creak of wood floor whispered through the door.
Another creak.
Oh shit.
There was a quiet thump on the wall outside my room and then footsteps.
My breath stalled as I waited, my fingers still rubbing my sex.
Would he come in? Walk away?
More footsteps faded and I finally exhaled.
Oh dear God. He’d heard me. He had to have.
Mortification settled before a vision of him last night, bare-chested, with his T-shirt wrapped around his hands as he cleaned off his own aftermath. Served him right, I figured. Now we were even.