As I walked along the sidewalk toward home, eighteen blocks from Aspen’s house, I decided it would be best if Midnight Visitor had just made her last foray to Oren’s bedroom.
When I woke in the morning, I was alone. I instantly missed her and swiped out my hand to her side of the bed. The head-shaped indention in the pillow next to mine made me smile. At least I had proof she was real.
The stinging on my back as I showered was more proof.
“What the hell?” I muttered, twisting and trying to feel around back there to figure out what was wrong with me. It wasn’t until I’d stepped out and was drying myself off that I caught a glimpse of the scratch marks on my shoulder blades and realized what the sting was. She must’ve left her mark when I’d gone down on her last night. She had gripped me pretty hard.
Damn, I liked that. Grinning, I whistled as I strolled back to my room in nothing but a towel. I started to make my bed, feeling like a dork when I had to pause and lean down to smell her on my sheets. When I caught a whiff of her unique perfume, I sighed and sucked in an even deeper inhale. God, she smelled so good. I was about to crawl onto the bed and jack off to thoughts of her when I stopped myself.
What the hell was I doing? Was I really this far gone for some chick I knew nothing about except how she felt, and smelled, and tasted...oh, and that she had an unnatural obsession for me? I must’ve lost my frigging mind. I was already fixated on someone, damn it; I didn’t need to add another woman to the list.
I’d let her in way too easily last night and given her some of that talking crap she’d wanted. Why had I done that? We didn’t need to talk. We were all about the physical. And that’s all it was, I commanded myself a little more firmly. In fact, next time she texted, I was just going to ignore her. I should find some chick that I had no problem just being physical with, and my life would return to normal. No more stress drawing, no more disturbing dreams like that one I’d had last night of my sister, and no more of this “feelings” bullshit. Not for me.
With a fistful of sheets, I ripped the covers off my bed, meaning to wash her scent off them, but then I realized I was actually following her orders to wash my bedding.
Damn it.
Fuck. They needed to be washed anyway. I kept tearing them from my mattress, a little more aggressively, pissed that some unnamed, faceless woman had me changing my mind so much in the past week. Dudes weren’t supposed to be such mind-changers. Before I knew it, I’d be growing ovaries.