A shiver wracks me. “Ren,” I whisper.
“Hm?”
“I want—” I’m cut off, gasping as he curls one finger inside me and rubs my G-spot with the kind of dedicated accuracy that betrays his profession. Target. Aim. Score.
My first wave of release blindsides me, jarring me up in the water. I grip the tub’s edge so hard my hand aches, but Ren doesn’t stop.
“Another,” he whispers, followed by a hot, tangling kiss as teeth and tongue battle for control.
“I c-can’t.” I’ve never orgasmed back to back. Multiples. When they were first just hookup buddies, Lorena condescendingly bragged about Mia giving multiples alllll the time. While Annie and I pouted in the corner that the doofuses we’d been stuck with couldn’t seem to string a decent orgasm together for us if their lives depended on it.
Well, not until Tim, for Annie.
Not until Ren, for me, apparently—
“Oh, God,” I yell.
Ren swipes away the last of the bubbles covering my breasts and drags his tongue over each pebbled tip. Time becomes fuzzy. Seconds become minutes stacked on minutes without the slightest sense of their passing. If it takes forever, I have no clue, and Ren doesn’t seem to care. I’m blissfully mindless of the construct of time, and Ren’s unfazed by the steady work of his touch, each hungry kiss grounding me to the present, cherishing me.
He’s doing something different with his fingers, and it is magic.
“I’m gonna co—” I cry out and turn toward him, throwing my arm around his neck because I can’t do this alone. I can’t feel this much as I soar over the edge from new heights. Weightless, breathless, satisfied.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, warm and soft against my neck. “So beautiful.” Gentle kisses chase gentler words.
My tongue’s thick, my body heavy and loose. Who needs pot when you have orgasms? “Urgubuh,” I mutter.
He smooths away hair that’s stuck to my face. “Is that right?”
“Sorcery,” I wheeze, chest heaving as I drop back into the water.
Ren laughs while he stands and reaches for a towel from the towel warmer. As soon as I see that hot fluffy cotton waiting for me, I realize my lips must be nearly blue. I’m shivering.
Holding the towel, Ren averts his gaze as I step out of the tub, into the warmth waiting in his arms. Wrapping my body tight in the towel, he smiles down at me. “Afraid I’m capable of no such wizardry, Francesca. Just good old-fashioned muggle labor.”
I point to the legitimate situation in his pants. “Care to explain the wand, then?”
He rolls his eyes. “Honestly. That’s the best you can come up with?”
“Nine to fourteen inches!” I say indignantly. Ren bends, then begins gently drying my legs and feet with another warm towel. “That’s impressive length. If you read Harry Potter with any kind of dedication, you’d know me calling your penis a wand is the world’s best compliment to a man.”
He lifts an eyebrow from his crouched place at my feet, looking thoroughly unimpressed. But when I open my mouth to argue the point, he’s somehow already upright, kissing me before I can say another word.
“Did you and Ziggy eat?” he asks, bending to scoop up his suit jacket and my pile of discarded clothes. I absolutely stare at his butt.
“Yep. We ordered pizza—owww.” A hard, painful cramp clenches my belly, followed by the familiar warmth of blood trickling down my thigh. “Fucking hell.”
Ren’s hands are on my shoulders, his head bent, trying to meet my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Ren freezes as he notices the blood. He blanches. “Oh, God, Frankie. Did I hurt you?”
“No, Ren! You didn’t do anything wrong.” I sigh. Thank God for bathwater. Because talk about a close call. “It’s my fucking womanly curse.”
His entire body relaxes. Relief washes over his face and he rubs my arms gently. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Do you have stuff here? Do you need me to run out?”
I stare up at him, feeling a wave of irrational emotion pricking my eyes. “I forgot. I picked up Pazza, and I was in a rush…”
To get here as soon as possible and be naked in the tub when you came home, hoping I could seduce you.
Yeah. I keep that thought to myself.
He squeezes my shoulders gently. “What brand?”
I blink at him. Guys aren’t supposed to be this chill about periods, are they? Especially after such a narrow escape. But Ren’s not just any guy, is he?
“Um,” I say unhelpfully.
“Here.” He gently sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me into his room.
“Ren!” I squeak as he hoists me higher in his arms. “It’s a period, not consumption.”
“I know, it’s just easier. Because I know you’re going to fight me about—”
“Not in your bed. I’ll make your mattress look like a crime scene!”
Flipping back the sheet, Ren lays me down and strides over to a closet where he quickly retrieves two thick beach towels. With military precision, he folds them crisply in half, stacks them on top of each other, and shoves them under me, wrapped like a burrito in my bath towel.
Retrieving my phone and water bottle from the other side of the room, then extracting one of his undershirts from the dresser, Ren sets everything next to me on the bed.
“There,” he says.
I scowl up at him. He smiles.
Patting his pockets, Ren checks for his wallet and phone, pulls out his keys. With one last kiss to my cheek, he turns away and strolls out of the room, looking all sexy hockey player in his after-game suit.
“Just text me brand and size. And get comfy!” he yells from the hallway. “You’re allowed out to grab a bag of root beer gummies, but I swear if you’re anywhere other than in my bed when I get back, Francesca, you’ll be in big trouble.”
I want to tell him where he can shove his high-handed directives, but don’t you know, instead I find myself silently, happily snuggled in his bed, a sunshine grin warming my face.
Not that I’m surprised by my shit luck, but I would get my period right when it seemed like Ren was going to quit torturing me and finally let me get under him. Another week—because my periods are assholes—of cruel celibacy. Okay, maybe not celibacy. He made me come last night just from teasing my nipples while doing this thing with a vibrator—
“Frankie?”
I jerk from my seat in the car. “Huh?”
Ren’s mouth tips in a grin but his eyes stay pinned on the road. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”
“Nope. Sorry.” I take a slow, calming breath. “Didn’t mean to zone out. I was daydreaming.”
He squeezes my leg gently. “You don’t need to be sorry. I didn’t know your thoughts were elsewhere.”
“‘Elsewhere’ makes me sound very philosophical, when really I was just picturing new variations on mutual non-penetrative pleasure, and how much I really want you to bend me over the sofa, then—”
“Frankie.” Ren’s voice is strangled. “I’m going to be walking into practice with a…” He gestures to his groin and a pronounced erection.