Chasing Crazy - Kelly Siskind Page 0,70

chuckle against her. “If my ten-minute orgasm and temporary blindness were any indication, I’d go with yes. You blew my mind tonight, in more ways than one.” I don’t tell her how much her acceptance means to me. I don’t tell her how I feel reborn. I just press her against me, and she cuddles closer. “But I’d like to revisit the part where you said you’ve pictured it a bunch. Like how often? And what exactly have you pictured?”

She tucks her head down.

“Come on, Canada. You either let it out or I tickle it out of you.”

She kicks her legs and wiggles around. Although I can’t see her face, I’m pretty sure she’s scrunching it up in that way she does. Fucking adorable. Still, she stays mum. I lock an arm around her waist and graze my fingers toward her armpit. That’s all it takes to have her shouting, “Okay, okay, okay!”

Mission accomplished. “Let’s hear it.”

After a lengthy pause, her soft breath hits my neck. “A bunch probably means, like, an unhealthy amount. I don’t have an actual number or anything. And I guess I have this thing I do. A lot.”

“Thing? I thought we covered all your things. You have another?”

“I doubt we’ve scratched the surface.”

“Do tell, Canada. This sounds like the type of thing I might like.” She traces my abs again, but I clamp my hand on hers. “Spill.”

“Okay.” She sighs. “It’s not that big of a deal, I just have a lot of fantasies. About you. Like all the time. And tonight, with you all naked and hot and manly, I needed to, you know…taste you.” She rubs her nose against my neck, squeezing closer to my side.

This damn girl. She has X-rated fantasies about yours truly, but she has to whisper “taste you.” Although I plan on reenacting every last dirty film, the way she’s clamming up, I can tell she’s not ready to voice them. Yet. “I’ll let you off easy tonight, but we’re not done talking about this particular thing. I’m pretty sure those fantasies happen every time your eyes burn into my body. It makes it hard to function around you.”

She giggles. “Deal. But what about your thing? You’re not exactly easy to be around.”

“My thing?”

“Yeah, your thing.”

“I don’t have a thing.”

She lets out an exasperated huff, meaning she’s rolling her eyes. “Your thing’s worse than my thing.”

I rub at the scar on my chin, trying to figure out what my tell is.

She groans. “You just did it again.”

I squint down at her, confused.

“Your fingers,” she says. “Over your scar. The way your arm does that hot guy, flexing thing? You have to know it makes me wet.” She reddens, her hand flying to cover her face.

I blink slowly, a long swallow moving down my throat as my dick hardens again. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing. Nope. Not a thing.” She buries her head into my chest and sighs.

As much as I want to get busy with her again, I’m pretty sure she’s content to fall asleep like this, in my arms. Can’t say I mind. Having her close eases the ache under my ribs that flares when she’s not around. Anyway, I’ll be scratching my scar most of the day tomorrow to get her ready for another unforgettable night.

Shifting so she’s partway under me, I drape my leg over her, and that dreaded lump settles back in my throat. Thoughts of our limited future invade my mind. I’ve been so focused on making Nina fall for me while keeping her at arm’s length that I haven’t stopped to think about where we go from here. If my uncle can’t get things sorted with my dad, I’ll have to go home earlier than planned.

Nina and I live in different countries, lead separate lives. Losing her isn’t something I want to consider. Sure, I can walk away. I always need to know I can walk away from her and be okay. I’m just not sure I want to. Not when she’s the first girl to want me, scarred legs and all. The first girl I’ve talked openly with about my mom and my uncertainty over working for my dad. Everything with her comes easily. With no secrets between us, it’ll be that much better. After the year I’ve had, I deserve better.

I hug her tight. We’ll have to muddle our way through this.

Sixteen

Nina

I have a boyfriend. A sweetheart. A beau. A specimen of manly perfection. Sam was worried I’d be turned off

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