Running into Love
Page 20
“You awake?” Levi’s rough, sleepy voice asks as his fingers tighten around my hip.
“Kind of,” I murmur as he pulls me deeper into his side.
“What time do your parents normally wake up?” he asks quietly.
“Maybe eight,” I mutter as his fingers slide up my bare side and my eyes close.
“It’s nine thirty.”
“What?” I practically shout as I sit up quickly with my hands against his abs. I bend half over his body to look at the clock on his bedside table. “Shit,” I groan. I never sleep this late. Ever. “I gotta go.” I hop off the bed to look for the shirt he took off me last night. My sisters and parents are probably having a field day talking about me. I can practically feel my ears ringing.
“So I’m guessing we can’t make out for a while?” he says, and I find him sitting with his back against his black leather headboard, his deep-gray down comforter around his waist, and an amused smile on his face.
“Um . . .” I lick my lips, moving my eyes from his wide chest to his abs, wanting nothing more than to dive back into bed with him.
“Baby.” He chuckles, and my eyes fly up to meet his once more. “You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t let you leave this room.”
“I have to go.” I shake my head to rid the sight of him half-naked from my brain. “My sisters are probably already at my apartment, and I have no doubt they are all talking about me not coming home last night,” I say while pulling my sweater down over my head.
“I thought about waking you after you passed out, but I didn’t want to let you go.” He didn’t want to let me go . . . Oh my . . . My stomach dips, and my legs get weak. “I’ll take Muffin out before I come over for breakfast.”
“Um . . .” I chew the inside of my cheek. “About breakfast.” I try to sound casual as I sit down on the edge of the bed to put on my socks.
“You don’t want me there.” God, when he says it like that, I feel like the world’s biggest jerk.
“It’s not that, exactly, it’s just that my family can be a little . . .”
“Crazy?” he asks with a smile.
“Yes.” I nod. “They can be a little crazy,” I concur as I stand. “And—”
“I’m coming,” he states, cutting me off. He throws the blanket off his waist and moves to sit on the side of the bed.
“I . . .” The words I was about to say catch in my throat when his large hands wrap around my hips and I’m pulled between his spread thighs.
“I’m coming,” he repeats firmly, the look on his face daring me to argue.
“Okay,” I agree quietly, looking into his eyes, which appear darker than their normal gold this morning. I think there is something significant about this moment and him wanting to spend time with my family.
“Good, now kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” I blurt like an idiot. Last night he seemed to like being in charge. I didn’t have to instigate anything; all I had to do was follow his lead—and he is a damn good leader.
“Yes, kiss me.” My eyes drop to his mouth, and I bite my bottom lip, debating how to go about kissing him. “Fawn.”
“Hmm?” I hum, studying his mouth.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, and I watch his lips move as they form each of those words.
Leaning closer I slide my hands through his thick, dark hair watching his eyelids lower, then press my mouth to his softly. Feeling his warm lips and his breath mingle with mine, I lose myself in him. Sliding my leg over his to straddle his lap, I listen to his groan of approval and shiver when one of his hands slides down to grab ahold of my ass. The other moves up into the back of my hair, where he grips tight in a possessive hold that makes my stomach dip.
“Damn, but I could seriously become addicted to your mouth.” He breathes against my lips, and I smile against his.
“Ditto,” I whisper, nipping his bottom lip and hearing him growl right before he takes over the kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and making me whimper. Rocking against him I tip my head to the side to deepen the kiss, then mewl in disappointment when he slows the kiss and pulls away, resting his forehead to mine.
“We better stop,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t want to stop at all, and I nod, closing my eyes and pulling in a much-needed lungful of air.
“Yeah, I need to get home,” I agree, opening my eyes to find his on mine.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he says, and I know in that moment I could get lost in him.
“Then don’t.” I close my eyes again, not wanting him to see that I really mean Don’t let me go, ever.
“I don’t plan on it.” He tips my head down so he can press a sweet kiss to my forehead. “Up you go,” he urges, and I reluctantly get off his lap, then watch him stand. “Are you okay?”
No would be the answer to that question. I feel like my life has changed in a huge way. I feel like . . . god, I feel like crying. “I’m good,” I lie, and his hand wraps around the back of my neck. He drags me closer so I have no choice but to rest my cheek against his chest.
“You good with me and you?” he asks softly, and I nod, not looking up at him. “That’s all that matters.” He kisses the top of my hair, letting me go once more. When he turns his back to me, I watch his muscles move under his skin as he opens a drawer and pulls out a long-sleeved navy-blue thermal and puts it on over his head. I want to pout a little that he’s covering up, but I don’t have time to do that. Instead my eyes drop to his ass, which is covered in a pair of formfitting dark-blue, almost black, boxers as he trades the sleep pants he put on last night when we got back from walking Muffin for a pair of thick gray sweats. Turning back toward me once he’s dressed, he smiles. “Come on.”
He takes my hand and pulls open his door. Muffin, who is still on the couch, lifts her head to look at us, then slowly pulls herself to stand, placing one paw on the floor at a time. As soon as she’s up, she wanders slowly to Levi, bumping him with her nose and not even paying me one bit of attention.
“My dog is seriously in love with you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, though I’m thinking of giving her a nickname.”
“Why?” I ask, watching him pet her before moving to pick up a pair of shoes and carrying them across the room.
“Muffin’s not exactly something I like calling her when we are out. I was thinking Brutus would be good.”
“She’s a girl.” I tell him something he should know as he takes a seat on the couch to put on a pair of worn sneakers.
“Why Muffin?” he asks, lifting his head to look at me.
“Do you mean why did I name her Muffin?” He nods. “She was rescued from a breeder out on Long Island,” I say, giving Muffin a rubdown when she finally pulls herself away from Levi and comes over to me. “I was visiting my parents over Christmas break last year when a story broke about a breeder out on Long Island who was being charged with animal cruelty. When I saw the news, I went to my dad to ask him about it. He told me that the Humane Society had brought more than a hundred dogs to the local shelter to either be rehomed or put down because they couldn’t adjust to life outside the cages they were forced to live in. That day I went to the shelter to see if I could help in some way. I didn’t plan on getting a dog, but I needed to do something, so I volunteered my time. That’s when I met Muffin. She was the runt of her litter and was scared to death of everyone. No one thought she would make it because she wouldn’t eat and she was having a really hard time adjusting. Every day I would spend time with her and the other dogs during breakfast before taking them on a walk or helping with cleanup around the kennel,” I say, watching his eyes soften. “Then one day I was doing what I had done the whole week prior. I was sitting on the floor eating while watching the dogs play, and Muffin, who had always stuck to the corner of the room and to herself, ran toward me to get the blueberry muffin I pulled out of my bag. I didn’t even have a chance to stop her before she ate almost the whole thing in one bite.” I smile, looking down at her. “After that she was glued to my side. If I was there, she was with me, and when I had to come back to New York, I couldn’t leave her behind, so I paid a thousand-dollar pet deposit on my apartment and brought her home.” I bend down to give my girl a hug around her neck. “So that’s why I call her Muffin,” I finish quietly, taking a chance to look at him when I feel the vibe in the room shift.
“Kind of,” I murmur as he pulls me deeper into his side.
“What time do your parents normally wake up?” he asks quietly.
“Maybe eight,” I mutter as his fingers slide up my bare side and my eyes close.
“It’s nine thirty.”
“What?” I practically shout as I sit up quickly with my hands against his abs. I bend half over his body to look at the clock on his bedside table. “Shit,” I groan. I never sleep this late. Ever. “I gotta go.” I hop off the bed to look for the shirt he took off me last night. My sisters and parents are probably having a field day talking about me. I can practically feel my ears ringing.
“So I’m guessing we can’t make out for a while?” he says, and I find him sitting with his back against his black leather headboard, his deep-gray down comforter around his waist, and an amused smile on his face.
“Um . . .” I lick my lips, moving my eyes from his wide chest to his abs, wanting nothing more than to dive back into bed with him.
“Baby.” He chuckles, and my eyes fly up to meet his once more. “You keep looking at me like that, and I won’t let you leave this room.”
“I have to go.” I shake my head to rid the sight of him half-naked from my brain. “My sisters are probably already at my apartment, and I have no doubt they are all talking about me not coming home last night,” I say while pulling my sweater down over my head.
“I thought about waking you after you passed out, but I didn’t want to let you go.” He didn’t want to let me go . . . Oh my . . . My stomach dips, and my legs get weak. “I’ll take Muffin out before I come over for breakfast.”
“Um . . .” I chew the inside of my cheek. “About breakfast.” I try to sound casual as I sit down on the edge of the bed to put on my socks.
“You don’t want me there.” God, when he says it like that, I feel like the world’s biggest jerk.
“It’s not that, exactly, it’s just that my family can be a little . . .”
“Crazy?” he asks with a smile.
“Yes.” I nod. “They can be a little crazy,” I concur as I stand. “And—”
“I’m coming,” he states, cutting me off. He throws the blanket off his waist and moves to sit on the side of the bed.
“I . . .” The words I was about to say catch in my throat when his large hands wrap around my hips and I’m pulled between his spread thighs.
“I’m coming,” he repeats firmly, the look on his face daring me to argue.
“Okay,” I agree quietly, looking into his eyes, which appear darker than their normal gold this morning. I think there is something significant about this moment and him wanting to spend time with my family.
“Good, now kiss me.”
“Kiss you?” I blurt like an idiot. Last night he seemed to like being in charge. I didn’t have to instigate anything; all I had to do was follow his lead—and he is a damn good leader.
“Yes, kiss me.” My eyes drop to his mouth, and I bite my bottom lip, debating how to go about kissing him. “Fawn.”
“Hmm?” I hum, studying his mouth.
“Kiss me,” he whispers, and I watch his lips move as they form each of those words.
Leaning closer I slide my hands through his thick, dark hair watching his eyelids lower, then press my mouth to his softly. Feeling his warm lips and his breath mingle with mine, I lose myself in him. Sliding my leg over his to straddle his lap, I listen to his groan of approval and shiver when one of his hands slides down to grab ahold of my ass. The other moves up into the back of my hair, where he grips tight in a possessive hold that makes my stomach dip.
“Damn, but I could seriously become addicted to your mouth.” He breathes against my lips, and I smile against his.
“Ditto,” I whisper, nipping his bottom lip and hearing him growl right before he takes over the kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and making me whimper. Rocking against him I tip my head to the side to deepen the kiss, then mewl in disappointment when he slows the kiss and pulls away, resting his forehead to mine.
“We better stop,” he says, sounding like he doesn’t want to stop at all, and I nod, closing my eyes and pulling in a much-needed lungful of air.
“Yeah, I need to get home,” I agree, opening my eyes to find his on mine.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he says, and I know in that moment I could get lost in him.
“Then don’t.” I close my eyes again, not wanting him to see that I really mean Don’t let me go, ever.
“I don’t plan on it.” He tips my head down so he can press a sweet kiss to my forehead. “Up you go,” he urges, and I reluctantly get off his lap, then watch him stand. “Are you okay?”
No would be the answer to that question. I feel like my life has changed in a huge way. I feel like . . . god, I feel like crying. “I’m good,” I lie, and his hand wraps around the back of my neck. He drags me closer so I have no choice but to rest my cheek against his chest.
“You good with me and you?” he asks softly, and I nod, not looking up at him. “That’s all that matters.” He kisses the top of my hair, letting me go once more. When he turns his back to me, I watch his muscles move under his skin as he opens a drawer and pulls out a long-sleeved navy-blue thermal and puts it on over his head. I want to pout a little that he’s covering up, but I don’t have time to do that. Instead my eyes drop to his ass, which is covered in a pair of formfitting dark-blue, almost black, boxers as he trades the sleep pants he put on last night when we got back from walking Muffin for a pair of thick gray sweats. Turning back toward me once he’s dressed, he smiles. “Come on.”
He takes my hand and pulls open his door. Muffin, who is still on the couch, lifts her head to look at us, then slowly pulls herself to stand, placing one paw on the floor at a time. As soon as she’s up, she wanders slowly to Levi, bumping him with her nose and not even paying me one bit of attention.
“My dog is seriously in love with you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, though I’m thinking of giving her a nickname.”
“Why?” I ask, watching him pet her before moving to pick up a pair of shoes and carrying them across the room.
“Muffin’s not exactly something I like calling her when we are out. I was thinking Brutus would be good.”
“She’s a girl.” I tell him something he should know as he takes a seat on the couch to put on a pair of worn sneakers.
“Why Muffin?” he asks, lifting his head to look at me.
“Do you mean why did I name her Muffin?” He nods. “She was rescued from a breeder out on Long Island,” I say, giving Muffin a rubdown when she finally pulls herself away from Levi and comes over to me. “I was visiting my parents over Christmas break last year when a story broke about a breeder out on Long Island who was being charged with animal cruelty. When I saw the news, I went to my dad to ask him about it. He told me that the Humane Society had brought more than a hundred dogs to the local shelter to either be rehomed or put down because they couldn’t adjust to life outside the cages they were forced to live in. That day I went to the shelter to see if I could help in some way. I didn’t plan on getting a dog, but I needed to do something, so I volunteered my time. That’s when I met Muffin. She was the runt of her litter and was scared to death of everyone. No one thought she would make it because she wouldn’t eat and she was having a really hard time adjusting. Every day I would spend time with her and the other dogs during breakfast before taking them on a walk or helping with cleanup around the kennel,” I say, watching his eyes soften. “Then one day I was doing what I had done the whole week prior. I was sitting on the floor eating while watching the dogs play, and Muffin, who had always stuck to the corner of the room and to herself, ran toward me to get the blueberry muffin I pulled out of my bag. I didn’t even have a chance to stop her before she ate almost the whole thing in one bite.” I smile, looking down at her. “After that she was glued to my side. If I was there, she was with me, and when I had to come back to New York, I couldn’t leave her behind, so I paid a thousand-dollar pet deposit on my apartment and brought her home.” I bend down to give my girl a hug around her neck. “So that’s why I call her Muffin,” I finish quietly, taking a chance to look at him when I feel the vibe in the room shift.
