Running into Love
Page 32
“Levi,” she pants, and her legs start to shake as her hands wrap around my arm.
“Let it go.” I lean forward and cover her mouth with mine as she orgasms, digging her nails into my arm and moaning against my tongue. Pulling back as the flutter of her pussy slows, I pull my fingers out of her, watching a smile light up her face as I suck my fingers clean.
“Honey, where are the pie pans I got you for Christmas two years ago?” Katie asks through the door, and Fawn’s smile falls away as her cheeks turn a shade of pink that has nothing to do with the orgasm I just gave her. “Never mind, don’t rush,” she says quickly. “I’ll just have Libby look for them.”
“Give me twenty minutes, Mom, and I’ll be out to help you,” she yells, then looks at me. “What do you think the probability of us sneaking out of here without being caught is?” I grin.
“None, babe.”
“That’s what I thought.” She sighs, sitting up. “I better get up and get dressed.” Putting my elbow on the bed, I watch her stand and put her hands on her hips as she looks toward the door. “I need to find a way to sneak home to get some clean clothes.”
“You’ve got stuff here,” I say, and her eyes come back to me.
“I don’t really want to put on the clothes I had on yesterday.”
“You have clean stuff in the second drawer.” I nod to the dresser.
“What?”
“You have a tendency to leave your shit all over my floor, so the last time I had the laundry sent out, I put your stuff in with mine.”
“Then you put it away in your dresser?” she asks, and I study the look in her eyes as her bottom lip goes between her teeth. She looks nervous, and that doesn’t sit well with me. I know this thing between us has been happening fast, but I’m not going to be the one to slow us down—not when it feels so right. If I learned one thing from being a cop, it’s to always follow my gut, and my gut is telling me she’s my future—a future I’m very much looking forward to.
“Baby.” I sit up and move to the edge of the bed so I can take her waist and pull her toward me. “You’ve been in my bed every night for the last two weeks. Some of my shit is hanging in your closet,” I remind her quietly, and she nods, running her fingers through my hair. “You okay with having a drawer here?”
Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles softly. “Yeah, I’m good with it.”
“Good, now go get ready.”
“Okay,” she agrees, but she doesn’t move. She gives me a smile I haven’t seen from her before, then drops her mouth to mine in a soft touch. Before I’m ready to let her go, she pulls her mouth from mine and walks to the dresser, opening the second drawer that I cleaned out for her last week. Staring inside for a moment, she shakes her head and pulls out a few items before closing it and turning to look at me briefly. Then without another word, she heads for the bathroom. Standing, I move around the bed and follow her so I can clean up. As soon as I walk into the steam-filled room I watch her disappear into the shower and hold back a growl of frustration. I should be getting into the shower with her—we should be having our first morning of wake-up sex, then shower sex—but with everyone here, those plans will have to be moved to tomorrow. Unless everyone is planning on staying the night—then I’ll be screwed again.
After brushing my teeth, I wash my face, find a shirt to put on, and head back to the bathroom.
“I’m gonna take Muffin out,” I say, and the water goes off right before she pulls the shower curtain open.
“Do you want to wait for me? She doesn’t really like the guys in my family, and I don’t want her to freak out on one of them.”
“You shouldn’t be on your foot too much,” I say as she grabs the towel hanging on the wall.
“It doesn’t really hurt anymore. I think I just bruised it, I’m oka—”
“Fuck,” I clip out, dropping my eyes down her body. I watch the drops of water sliding down her skin. “This is torture.” She laughs, pushing me a step back when I move into her space.
“You’re torturing yourself.”
“I didn’t get enough of you last night.” I sigh regretfully, and her big eyes come to me.
“You didn’t get enough of me last night?” She looks me over and swallows. “You had me more times than I can count.”
“It will never be enough. Being inside you is . . . Fuck, there are no words for what it’s like being inside you,” I explain, shaking my head, as she steps over the edge of the tub. “All I know is it’s my new favorite place to be.”
“Stop.” She pokes my chest, pushing me back when I unknowingly move to her again. “You’re making me dizzy, and I need to get ready. My whole family is out there, so I need to prepare myself for what’s about to happen,” she says, moving to stand in front of the sink.
“What’s about to happen?” I ask, placing myself against her back, wrapping my hands around her waist, and dropping my chin to the top of her head.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “All I know is that it will probably be embarrassing.”
“I’ll be with you,” I say, then mutter a curse as my cell phone rings.
“You should get that,” she says quietly, studying me in the mirror.
“Yeah.” I kiss her shoulder and let her go. Going to the bedroom, I find my cell on the dresser and expect it to be work, but it’s my mom.
“Mom,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear.
“Happy Thanksgiving, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom. Have you been cooking all morning?” I know she probably has. Since I was little, my mom has been making a feast at Thanksgiving, getting up at six to put in a turkey and get things ready before everyone shows up.
“No, actually, I’m standing outside your apartment building . . . Surprise.” She yells the last word, and I scrub my hand down my jaw in disbelief as I look into the bathroom and watch Fawn put her hair up on top of her head. I told my mom about Fawn two weeks ago, and she couldn’t wait to meet her. I just didn’t expect that meeting to include Fawn’s entire family.
“You’re standing outside my building,” I ask, just to confirm.
“Yes. Well, we all are . . . we didn’t want you to be alone on Thanksgiving, so we figured we’d drive in and cook at your place. That way, even if you get called out, you can eat when you come back.” Fuck me, this shit is not going to go well.
“Fawn’s whole family showed up this morning with that same plan,” I say. When it goes quiet, I pull the phone away from my ear to check that the call didn’t drop. “Mom.”
“Fawn is with you? I thought she was going to be with her family today,” she says, repeating something I told her last week when she asked what Fawn would be doing on the holiday.
“She didn’t want me to be alone,” I say quietly and listen to her pull in a sharp breath.
“Oh my,” she says, and I know she understands the significance of Fawn coming to spend Thanksgiving with me instead of staying with her family.
“Mom, let me let you go. I’ll be down in a minute to let you in.”
“Sure, honey,” she agrees, and I pull the phone away, end the call, and shove it into my pocket as I walk back into the bathroom.
“Change of plans, baby.”
“You have to leave?” she asks, sounding disappointed as she pulls a shirt on over her head—this one is red and has the word Bazinga scrolled across the front in large yellow lettering.
“Nope, my family is all downstairs.”
“What?” Her face pales, and her eyes shoot past me to the door. “Your family is here?”
“Yeah, I need to go let them in.”
“Your family is all here? As in outside our building?” she repeats, sounding panicked.
“Yeah, ba—”
“But . . . but my family is all here,” she cuts me off with wide eyes.
“They are . . .”
“Oh my god. This is going to be a disaster. Your family is going to hate me because my family is going to do something crazy.”
“Let it go.” I lean forward and cover her mouth with mine as she orgasms, digging her nails into my arm and moaning against my tongue. Pulling back as the flutter of her pussy slows, I pull my fingers out of her, watching a smile light up her face as I suck my fingers clean.
“Honey, where are the pie pans I got you for Christmas two years ago?” Katie asks through the door, and Fawn’s smile falls away as her cheeks turn a shade of pink that has nothing to do with the orgasm I just gave her. “Never mind, don’t rush,” she says quickly. “I’ll just have Libby look for them.”
“Give me twenty minutes, Mom, and I’ll be out to help you,” she yells, then looks at me. “What do you think the probability of us sneaking out of here without being caught is?” I grin.
“None, babe.”
“That’s what I thought.” She sighs, sitting up. “I better get up and get dressed.” Putting my elbow on the bed, I watch her stand and put her hands on her hips as she looks toward the door. “I need to find a way to sneak home to get some clean clothes.”
“You’ve got stuff here,” I say, and her eyes come back to me.
“I don’t really want to put on the clothes I had on yesterday.”
“You have clean stuff in the second drawer.” I nod to the dresser.
“What?”
“You have a tendency to leave your shit all over my floor, so the last time I had the laundry sent out, I put your stuff in with mine.”
“Then you put it away in your dresser?” she asks, and I study the look in her eyes as her bottom lip goes between her teeth. She looks nervous, and that doesn’t sit well with me. I know this thing between us has been happening fast, but I’m not going to be the one to slow us down—not when it feels so right. If I learned one thing from being a cop, it’s to always follow my gut, and my gut is telling me she’s my future—a future I’m very much looking forward to.
“Baby.” I sit up and move to the edge of the bed so I can take her waist and pull her toward me. “You’ve been in my bed every night for the last two weeks. Some of my shit is hanging in your closet,” I remind her quietly, and she nods, running her fingers through my hair. “You okay with having a drawer here?”
Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles softly. “Yeah, I’m good with it.”
“Good, now go get ready.”
“Okay,” she agrees, but she doesn’t move. She gives me a smile I haven’t seen from her before, then drops her mouth to mine in a soft touch. Before I’m ready to let her go, she pulls her mouth from mine and walks to the dresser, opening the second drawer that I cleaned out for her last week. Staring inside for a moment, she shakes her head and pulls out a few items before closing it and turning to look at me briefly. Then without another word, she heads for the bathroom. Standing, I move around the bed and follow her so I can clean up. As soon as I walk into the steam-filled room I watch her disappear into the shower and hold back a growl of frustration. I should be getting into the shower with her—we should be having our first morning of wake-up sex, then shower sex—but with everyone here, those plans will have to be moved to tomorrow. Unless everyone is planning on staying the night—then I’ll be screwed again.
After brushing my teeth, I wash my face, find a shirt to put on, and head back to the bathroom.
“I’m gonna take Muffin out,” I say, and the water goes off right before she pulls the shower curtain open.
“Do you want to wait for me? She doesn’t really like the guys in my family, and I don’t want her to freak out on one of them.”
“You shouldn’t be on your foot too much,” I say as she grabs the towel hanging on the wall.
“It doesn’t really hurt anymore. I think I just bruised it, I’m oka—”
“Fuck,” I clip out, dropping my eyes down her body. I watch the drops of water sliding down her skin. “This is torture.” She laughs, pushing me a step back when I move into her space.
“You’re torturing yourself.”
“I didn’t get enough of you last night.” I sigh regretfully, and her big eyes come to me.
“You didn’t get enough of me last night?” She looks me over and swallows. “You had me more times than I can count.”
“It will never be enough. Being inside you is . . . Fuck, there are no words for what it’s like being inside you,” I explain, shaking my head, as she steps over the edge of the tub. “All I know is it’s my new favorite place to be.”
“Stop.” She pokes my chest, pushing me back when I unknowingly move to her again. “You’re making me dizzy, and I need to get ready. My whole family is out there, so I need to prepare myself for what’s about to happen,” she says, moving to stand in front of the sink.
“What’s about to happen?” I ask, placing myself against her back, wrapping my hands around her waist, and dropping my chin to the top of her head.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. “All I know is that it will probably be embarrassing.”
“I’ll be with you,” I say, then mutter a curse as my cell phone rings.
“You should get that,” she says quietly, studying me in the mirror.
“Yeah.” I kiss her shoulder and let her go. Going to the bedroom, I find my cell on the dresser and expect it to be work, but it’s my mom.
“Mom,” I answer, putting the phone to my ear.
“Happy Thanksgiving, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom. Have you been cooking all morning?” I know she probably has. Since I was little, my mom has been making a feast at Thanksgiving, getting up at six to put in a turkey and get things ready before everyone shows up.
“No, actually, I’m standing outside your apartment building . . . Surprise.” She yells the last word, and I scrub my hand down my jaw in disbelief as I look into the bathroom and watch Fawn put her hair up on top of her head. I told my mom about Fawn two weeks ago, and she couldn’t wait to meet her. I just didn’t expect that meeting to include Fawn’s entire family.
“You’re standing outside my building,” I ask, just to confirm.
“Yes. Well, we all are . . . we didn’t want you to be alone on Thanksgiving, so we figured we’d drive in and cook at your place. That way, even if you get called out, you can eat when you come back.” Fuck me, this shit is not going to go well.
“Fawn’s whole family showed up this morning with that same plan,” I say. When it goes quiet, I pull the phone away from my ear to check that the call didn’t drop. “Mom.”
“Fawn is with you? I thought she was going to be with her family today,” she says, repeating something I told her last week when she asked what Fawn would be doing on the holiday.
“She didn’t want me to be alone,” I say quietly and listen to her pull in a sharp breath.
“Oh my,” she says, and I know she understands the significance of Fawn coming to spend Thanksgiving with me instead of staying with her family.
“Mom, let me let you go. I’ll be down in a minute to let you in.”
“Sure, honey,” she agrees, and I pull the phone away, end the call, and shove it into my pocket as I walk back into the bathroom.
“Change of plans, baby.”
“You have to leave?” she asks, sounding disappointed as she pulls a shirt on over her head—this one is red and has the word Bazinga scrolled across the front in large yellow lettering.
“Nope, my family is all downstairs.”
“What?” Her face pales, and her eyes shoot past me to the door. “Your family is here?”
“Yeah, I need to go let them in.”
“Your family is all here? As in outside our building?” she repeats, sounding panicked.
“Yeah, ba—”
“But . . . but my family is all here,” she cuts me off with wide eyes.
“They are . . .”
“Oh my god. This is going to be a disaster. Your family is going to hate me because my family is going to do something crazy.”
