Pride & Precedents (The Park Brothers #2)

19. Camila

Chapter nineteen

Camila

" S hit," I hear Henry say.

I open my eyes just a crack, not quite ready to meet the day after a very… energetic sleepover. Henry and I are a beautiful tangle of soft and hard on my tiny couch. His shoulder nudges mine as he fumbles underneath the coffee table one-handed for his discarded boxers. Is he trying not to wake me up? It's a little late to sneak out.

He reaches further under the table and slips off the couch onto the floor with a heavy thump.

"Damnit!" Henry grumbles quietly. My apartment certainly isn't designed for someone Henry's size. The thought of Henry as a bull in a china shop nearly makes me giggle until I see the look on his face. It looks a little like… panic .

My heart sinks. I just had the best sex of my life, and probably all my future lives, and he's having morning after regret? I'm not some na?ve twenty-something who thinks a couple orgasms mean I should start picking out baby names. I know what this is. But I thought we were on the same page last night. Now it seems like we weren't even in the same book.

I join him in his search for underwear, finding my bra under a couch cushion and yanking it on. Maybe the sex wasn't as good for him as it was for me?…If so, his moans and general wildness told a different story. Maybe seeing me naked was a letdown? As confident as I am in my own skin, I've never seen Henry with anyone bigger than probably a size four.

"Sorry," I say flatly, trying and failing to keep my tone neutral. "You're probably eager to get back to Westchester. Do you need to use my bathroom to freshen up?"

Henry turns to me, confused.

"You…," I lift my hand before dropping it with a shrug. "You're just doing a great impression of the roadrunner running from Wile E. Coyote right now. I assumed that meant—"

"No," he interrupts, taking both of my hands into his lap. They're inches from his naked dick. "I'm not running away. I loved what we did."

His earnest admission releases the tension at the back of my neck that threatened to become a migraine.

"It's just," he sighs, resuming his search for his clothes, "I forgot to set an alarm. My phone is dead, too. How late are we for work right now?"

I give him a soft smile.

"Henry. It's Saturday. There's no work today. At least not for us regular people."

He looks so relieved I almost laugh.

"Phew! When I woke up without my alarm, I started to panic."

"You're good," I say, running a soothing hand down his arm. "If you want, you can charge your phone for a bit before heading out."

He lets go of my hands and gives me a worried look.

"Heading out? Camila, are you kicking me out right now?"

I sputter, startled by his blunt question.

"No! I-I just thought that…You know. We're keeping it quiet around the office. We just slept together. I didn't expect you to spend the night. There's…no pressure to hang out."

A grin breaks out on his face, and he takes my hands again. He strokes my knuckles with his thumbs and I try not to shudder with pleasure.

"And if I want to stay?"

I will my heart to stop pounding in my chest before he hears it. Even so, my Kool-aid smile is likely giving me away.

"You're welcome to stay, but I think we both need that shower." I look around at my living room, which looks like it was hit by a tornado. "And I'll need to straighten up in here too."

His smile turns rueful and, not for the first time, I'm struck by all the new sides of Henry I'm discovering. Sub Zero is cold, calculating, precise, perfect. But when we're alone, Henry is passionate, bossy, even vulnerable. Despite the solely sexual nature of our relationship, I'm eager to learn more.

He drops my hands and stands up, his exposed cock directly in my line of sight.

"Well, if we're going to shower, I guess there's no sense finding my boxers." I laugh and try not to let him see my hungry reaction to his nudity.

"I can't argue with that logic."

He gestures for me to lead the way and we walk down the hall to my cramped bathroom, made even tighter by Henry's broad shoulders and imposing frame. He's ripped, but not in a bulky way, like maybe a swimmer. Crowded in such a small space, I can't help but stare. He must swim every day and punish his body with boiled chicken breast and kale. God knows I've never seen him eat a French fry.

The smirk on his face says he's caught me staring. My cheeks heat, but instead of teasing, he leans past me to turn on the shower, brushing as much of his skin against mine as he can. Not once did he break eye contact, and I gasp with the intensity of my desire.

"C'mon, Ms. Sanchez," he says, beckoning me into the miniscule stall. "I'll wash your back if you wash mine."

I giggle as I step into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away yesterday's makeup and hair product, as well as all evidence of Henry and I's…study break. I still feel the telltale soreness between my legs, though. He was so big. And impressively thick. Of course, I knew that from the way he tested the flexibility of my jaw the last time he was over, but feeling it inside me was something completely different. Even soft, he's impressive.

"My eyes are up here," he laughs, probably having felt my gaze on his cock. I look a little chagrined.

"Sorry. I'm not trying to objectify you." Henry laughs again and starts soaping his chest…with my loofah and my body wash. He's going to smell like me—vanilla and orange peel—all day today, and I'm trying my best not to let that turn me on.

"Not at all. Please. Objectify me." His eyes are smoldering. "Objectify me all night long ."

That makes me laugh, like really laugh, at my robot boss growing a heart and using it to tell me corny jokes. He starts laughing too until I have to grab his shoulder to keep from slipping. The sound I let out as I almost wipe out is super embarrassing, but objectively hilarious, and both of us laugh even harder.

"You might want to invest in some anti-slip stickers," he says, still chuckling. I stick my tongue out at him and gesture for him to turn around so I can scrub his back. Fair is fair.

I drag the soapy loofah down his smooth, tan skin. There's no give at all; it's solid muscle. I make large circles of soap, steadily moving down the thick columns of his back until I reach the curve of his ass.

I'm not an ass woman. I may have glanced at one or two Mets players' butts, but I've honestly never put much thought into men's asses. But Henry's has made me a true believer, and I will spread his gospel far and wide.

"Everything OK back there?" he asks, humor thick in his voice.

I clear my throat. How the fuck do I keep getting caught daydreaming about Henry? I've never been like this with guys before. Has it been so long since I've had sex that I've become some blushing floozie?

"All good. Just…thinking about my to-dos for the day."

He looks over his shoulder and his face says that he knows I'm lying, but that he's willing to give me a break.

"Is the first item on the list 'fantasize about my boss's ass?'"

OK, I was wrong. His face really said that he knows I'm lying, and he can't wait to tease me mercilessly.

"OK, ok," I pout, turning away in embarrassment. He turns around to face me and then cups my jaw with a large hand. It practically covers the whole side of my face; no wonder he made me cum so quick that first night in my kitchen. Come to think of it, I don't normally cum from just fingers, so he might be some sort of sex wizard. Orgasma fantastica!

"You're not the only one fantasizing, Camila," he says, then kisses me with a serious look in his eyes. "And you're definitely not the only one looking."

There I go again, blushing like a sixteen-year-old girl with her first boyfriend. He puts his other hand on the other side of my jaw and kisses me softly. He doesn't eat my whole face like the last guy I hooked up with from Tinder. He doesn't ram his tongue down my throat like the one before that, from Bumble. His kiss is soft, it's slow, it's…sweet. And just like I was baptized into the Church of Gorgeous Men's Asses, I'm now a convert for sweet kisses, too.

It doesn't stay sweet, though. How could it, with such naked attraction between us and naked…bodies? Each kiss gets more urgent until teeth are biting necks, hands are gripping hips, and we begin sliding our bodies along each other's, as close as two people can get with a condom two rooms away. I press against him, moving up and down, enjoying the slickness from the soap still running off his body.

It's probably the wettest dry humping in history and most definitely the hottest. Our moans and groans fill the air already thick with steam. I'm rubbing my mound against his thigh as he thrusts his cock against my hip and it's so good and so…different. Different good . He's panting light puffs of air into my ear as we cling together, groping and grinding and chasing our hovering orgasms.

Mine hits first. My legs quake around his thigh and I shudder against his chest, using it to smother my screams. He's not far behind, grunting out his pleasure as white streams run down my legs into the drain.

"Have you ever done that before?" he asks, sounding just as out of breath and amazed as I feel.

"Never," I admit, and I bite my lip, worrying about the gravity of that.

Before I can analyze further, he shuffles me out of the shower and wraps me in a big, fluffy towel. Towels I splurged on with last year's bonus. They're Egyptian cotton, ultra-thin, and large enough to wrap around my voluptuous body.

He dries me off carefully, then rubs lotion over my limbs until I'm both relaxed and a little needy for him again. His care is a stark contrast to last night's frenzy; tenderness is yet another side of Henry Park. We dress in silence, sneaking looks and kisses, and I luckily find an unopened toothbrush he can use.

As I turn to lock the door behind us, I take a steadying breath. Spending the night with my boss was beyond my wildest fantasies. Spending the day with him might push my heart past the point of no return.