Keep Me If You Can (If You Can #3)

16. This Is…

Chapter sixteen

This Is…

I was not a morning person.

JP was, but that Friday had been a long, long, long day. He’d woken up at four-thirty, driven for four hours, spent a day in meetings, got fucked in a gondola—twice, technically—and had water spit all over him during the reception for the world’s weirdest personal development seminar.

Then he’d had a surprisingly deep conversation over the additional two hours of driving he had to do before getting back to Ottawa.

So no one would have blamed him if he’d fallen asleep while I was in the shower, but when I walked into my bedroom, he’d stirred from the short nap he’d allowed himself to take.

And then he’d joined me for my second shower, which I’d needed to take after he turned both of us into shuddering, sweaty messes while fucking me in the ass.

So it made sense that despite being the kind of monster who woke up early enough to do things like go to the gym before work instead of barely making it to an eleven a.m. class on time, JP would sleep in the morning after we got back from Mont Tremblant.

It made complete sense, and yet, the bastard woke me up before ten.

On a Saturday .

“You awake yet?” he mumbled.

“Why are you touching me?” I mumbled back.

A mindless hand traced the curve of my waist above the covers. “You’re soft.”

“You’re stupid.”

“So you are awake?”

“No thanks to you.”

His smirk was such a trademark expression that I could almost hear him doing it. “Great. Any chance I can have some of those blankets back? You’ve been hogging them all night.”

I blinked, slow awareness washing over me as I realized I was curled into a ball, blankets tucked under my chin. My back was to JP and my face was half-buried in the fluffy pillows on my bed.

It wasn’t where I’d fallen asleep, which meant I’d stirred at some point during the night. The last thing I remembered was a kiss on my forehead and strong arms around me, a steady heartbeat drumming in my ear as my eyes slid closed without even consulting me.

But I hadn’t meant to fall asleep on JP’s chest. I hadn’t meant to be in his arms at all. The plan had always been for us to share a bed that night, so it wasn’t like it was unexpected that he was there, but I’d thought if he tried to cuddle with me, I’d shove him away and tell him I didn’t like to be touched while I slept.

Which wasn’t even a lie. Most of the time.

I’d liked it when Ben cuddled me. And Ben had explained it was a scientific thing because post-sex cuddling added endorphins or something. It hadn’t mattered because Ben and I were very clear about what we were to each other. He was my former psychology professor; I was a student. We had a summer fling that ended when he moved to California for a year of sabbatical. It didn’t matter if he cuddled me to sleep once or twice because on the few harrowing occasions that one of us thought the other might be feeling things we didn’t want to be felt, we’d both very clearly indicated that we didn’t want anything more.

But JP…

JP was fucking with my head.

One moment, he was kissing me like my mouth was his favourite flavour.

Like the world was churning around us and I was the only thing holding him steady.

Like his body had suddenly decided it was allergic to air that hadn’t been processed through my lungs first.

It was ridiculous and unsettling and so, so hard to fight because those kisses made me think his mouth was my favourite flavour. That the world was spinning and he was holding me steady.

But the next moment, he’d smirk that stupid smirk of his and push all my buttons before fucking me until the only thing I could remember was that this was what I wanted. I wanted to feel good. Nothing more, nothing less.

That was what I was supposed to want, anyway.

All I was supposed to want was his body. His pleasure. His fingers and tongue and cock. I was supposed to want him to eat me out from behind before he fucked me, making me see stars and sob as I came with his cock buried in my ass. I was supposed to want him to finish inside me, then fall asleep on the other side of the bed so he could wake up the next morning and fuck me one last time before going back to Montreal.

I wasn’t supposed to be a little sad that I’d woken up wrapped in blankets instead of his arms.

I wasn’t supposed to loosen my grip on my blankets, hoping he’d curl his body around mine before tucking the covers around both of us.

And I wasn’t supposed to feel a spark of warmth as he pulled the blankets away and did exactly what I wasn’t supposed to want.

“About time, babe,” he murmured as his chest met my back. “I thought I was going to freeze to death.”

“Let me remind you whose bed it is,” I said.

“Yours,” he said. “Luckily for me, you’re so good at sharing.”

“I share with people who deser— ahh !”

He burst out laughing as I squealed and jolted up, my eyes flying open at the sudden chill from icy fingers resting on my ribcage, directly on top of my dragon tattoo.

“What the fuck ?!” I screeched over his laughter. “Why are your hands so fucking cold?”

His breath was warm against my neck as he grabbed me even as I tried to wriggle away from him. “You’re the one who stole the blankets, babe. I told you I was freezing my ass off over here.”

I’d thrown snowballs warmer than his hands, yet he ran both of them along my perfectly-warm skin, making me squirm as I struggled away from him.

But not, like, actually struggled.

More like writhed back and forth, making my ass brush against his cock, so when I finally got the upper hand and rolled over to face him, it pressed firmly into my belly while I reached around to grab his ass.

“Your ass doesn’t feel that frozen to me,” I said.

“But my plan to make you find out worked,” he said, then leaned in and kissed me.

“Ugh,” I said against his lips, wrinkling my nose. “Your morning breath is awful.”

Both of us laughed.

Neither of us stopped kissing.

He untangled one of his hands from around me and cupped it over my breast, the cold of his fingers making my nipple pebble beneath them. Though, I guess the fact that he was pinching it between his thumb and forefinger might have been part of it. I let out one soft moan as he brushed his thumb over the hardened nub and another as he brought his other hand down to my thigh, urging it up so he could wrap it around his hip and let his stiff cock rest against my pussy.

“Fuck the blankets,” he said. “I should’ve asked you to rub your pussy on me to warm up.”

“I don’t think it would help heat up your ass,” I said. “It’s much more efficient in warming up smaller areas.”

“Damn,” he said. “I was gonna suggest sticking my cock in there to warm it up, but it’s probably too big.”

I let out an unattractive snort. For as much as I made fun of JP, I hadn’t intended to imply he had a small dick. That was a result of sleepiness and lack of focus, since said dick was sliding along my dripping slit. But he didn’t take offense; he just ran with the joke, confident enough in himself that he didn’t need my validation for something as trivial as his dick size.

And God, I liked that.

I liked it as much as I hated that it was yet another item on the ever-growing list of things I didn’t hate about JP.

Because as that list got longer, the list of reasons that I didn’t want anything more than this with JP got shorter.

And shorter.

And shorter.

His hands weren’t cold for very much longer. As he left lazy kisses on my lips, he traced my body, warming his fingers up even as he left chilled paths along my skin. I stopped trying to get away from him, instead returning those lazy kisses as he replaced my squirms with slow thrusts forward, grinding himself against my pussy.

There was no decision for his cock to slip inside me. There was no ceremony or warning or effort. It just pushed into my dripping hole like it knew it was meant to be there. I sighed against JP’s lips as he entered me, my eyes opening only so I could let them flutter shut again. He murmured words that weren’t quite words as he slipped his hand around my body, grabbing my ass so when he rolled slightly away, he stayed inside me. With my leg slung over him, I wasn’t exactly on top, but the angle changed enough that JP could thrust a little deeper as he started a slow rhythm that filled me with simmering bliss.

It was quiet. Gentle. Unrushed and unhurried in a way we didn’t often have. There were no furtive glances to make sure cars weren’t pulling into the same parking lot. No worry that Anne-Marie would burst in. No ticking clock telling us when we had to be done by. There was only him, and me, and the blankets around us.

And, apparently, my phone.

“Fuck,” I muttered as it vibrated on the nightstand.

“You can answer it if you want,” JP said. “It might be important.”

“Or it might be a telemarketer.” It took more effort than I wanted to give, but I focused my attention on the man in front of me. “Anyone who knows me knows I’m probably asleep right now.”

He didn’t say anything else, instead bringing his hand to my side again and holding himself inside me as he nudged me onto my back. It shouldn’t have felt so effortless, getting into that position while still attached to him, but apparently JP didn’t let a little thing like anatomical limitations get in the way of what he wanted.

He pushed in deeper, his hips flush against my thighs. A shiver ran through me as he dipped to press his lips to my neck, a tingle of electric desire spreading from his kiss and across my skin. Moaning softly, I started to move my arms around his body so I could pull him in closer.

And then my phone started vibrating again.

“You sure you don’t want to—” he said.

“ No ,” I said, even though my hands were itching to reach over and find out who it was.

Despite my protest, he lifted his head and glanced at the nightstand. “It’s a random number.”

“Great. Extra not important.” I dug my heels into the mattress for leverage so I could push my hips up insistently. “Make me come.”

That snapped his attention back to me, deep blue eyes boring down into mine.

“Please,” I added softly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, then buried his face in my neck. “ Fuck .”

The next time he brought his mouth to mine, I felt it.

Not his lips. I mean, obviously I felt those. But I felt it, thrilling and terrifying and foreign, my heart skipping one beat and then another. JP must have felt it too, because his mouth didn’t leave mine. He kissed me harder, drove his cock in deeper, held me tighter until I knew both of us were close, so fucking close , and I couldn’t stop myself from moaning against his lips.

“Nell,” he breathed. “Nell, babe, this… this is…”

“This is what?” I whispered.

Because he trailed off, but I needed the next word. I needed it. I needed to know what he thought this was.

Fake.

Too much.

A problem.

Not what I wanted.

So good.

He pulled away so his eyes could bore into mine, bright and blue and more serious than I’d ever seen them.

Not what he wanted.

Not enough.

Real .

“Babe—”

And then a door opened.

Not my bedroom door, thank fuck, but both of our heads snapped towards the sound of my apartment door opening.

In hindsight, my reaction was not the most intelligent thing I’d ever done. An intelligent reaction would have been to do something like listen for another few moments to figure out what was going on. Or look at my phone to see if someone had texted me, like Sydney, who I knew had the spare key. Or lock the bedroom door and call the police. Or scream that I had a gun, even though the entirety of my experience with guns was of the water variety.

Instead, I shoved JP off of me, leapt out of bed, and snatched my ratty old bathrobe from the hook near the door.

“Wait—” JP protested, but I’d already put my bathrobe on and wrenched the bedroom door open. I pinched the front of the robe together as I stormed into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me.

Then three things happened in rapid succession.

First, my bedroom door slammed with a thundering bang.

Second, someone shrieked.

Third, I burst into my kitchen just in time to see Sydney whirl around. The moment she saw me, her eyes went wide and her face went deathly pale.

“Oh, no,” she whispered.

“What the hell, Syd?” I asked. “I was in the middle of fucking—”

And thank God—thank God —I didn’t finish that sentence.

“ Ostie de fucking crisse, qu’est-que fucking tabarnak ,” Anne-Marie cursed, a hand pressed to her chest as she turned to face me.

Anne…Marie. My best friend.

Anne-Marie, who had no reason to be here.

Anne-Marie, whose brother had just pulled his dick out of me seconds earlier.