Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,63
three hours to notice. I never put them back on after you slid them down my legs in your kitchen.”
I groan at the memory, dropping my head to her shoulder, nipping at the skin there. “You’re killing me. I’m so close to burying myself inside you right”—I grind against her and she meets my thrusts with her own eagerness—“fucking now.”
“Then do it.” She drops her lips to my ear, sucking on the lobe and driving me even more insane. “Take me.”
Her request has me driving against her again, and I must hit just the right spot because her moan is louder than before.
“I swear to god, if you two are out there having sex, I will get a restraining order and ban you from my property!” Porter yells.
“Funny coming from you, Mr. Fuck in Someone Else’s Bathroom,” Winston says to him.
“Anyone up for the Cha-Cha Slide?” Drew singsongs, backing up her husband.
“Cha-Cha Slide?” Thea questions, her breaths ragged.
“You had to be there.”
“I’m sure it was hilarious, whatever it was, but Sully?”
“Yeah?”
“Take me home.”
Slice Seventeen
Thea
We’re exactly one week away from the wedding, and I’m starting to forget what sleeping in my own bed feels like.
I’ve spent every single night on Sully’s boat since he showed up at the shop that night.
It never fails.
I do my best to go home after work and ignore the pull toward the docks, but I always find myself stepping onto the deck of his boat by sundown.
He’s a drug pulsing through my veins, and I’m more addicted than I care to admit.
“Let me get this straight,” Sully says as he steers his old beater onto the road I grew up on. “You moved out of your childhood home where you had free room and board and into your apartment beside the shop because you caught your mom and dad making out on the couch?”
“You make it sound like it happened once. It was three times. Thrice! And the third time my mom was down to her bra and my dad’s hand was up her skirt.” I shudder at the memory. “Tell me you wouldn’t move out if you saw that.”
“Oh, I’d puke right in my mouth if I saw that shit. But free room and board…”
“Says you who moved out of Winston’s where you had the same situation going on.”
“He and Drew kept banging in the living room whenever they thought I was asleep. Little did they know, I was usually awake working on my college courses. I spent a pretty penny on noise-canceling headphones trying to drown those sounds out. Winston’s a fucking talker.”
“You’re not exactly quiet yourself,” I point out.
“I don’t hear you complaining.”
“Oh, I definitely am not. Speaking of your bedroom activities…I didn’t expect you to be so…commanding in bed.”
“Why? Just because I’m…what did you call me? The quiet, soulful one?”
“Honestly? Yeah.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Thea.”
“I’ve learned my lesson there.”
He gives me that smirk that’s growing on me. “I didn’t think you’d like it so much.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re such a strong-willed smartass, so I was sure you’d fight me on it.”
“I didn’t either,” I admit. “Think I’d like it so much, I mean. But it’s kind of…hot.”
The ache between my legs returns like I didn’t just have Sully inside me a mere hour ago.
That’s just how it seems to be with him. I can’t get enough.
And not just the sex.
It’s being with him. We don’t even have to be talking or screwing. There’s just something so calming about his presence. It’s like when I sit in silence in the mornings and just breathe, grounding myself.
Sully gives me that sense of peace, and though I like being with him more than I ever thought I would, it scares the fuck out of me.
Since that day I was late to work because I couldn’t quit thinking about him, I’ve done everything in my power to not think about what this whole thing between us means. And by everything in my power, I mean fill every free moment with something, anything—including him.
It sounds ridiculous, but it’s so easy when we’re together that I don’t have to think. I can just be.
I bet if I sat and analyzed that for any amount of time, I’d rethink that angle.
So, I don’t.
“I’m glad you think so.” Another cocky grin. “Which house?”
“That white one,” I say, pointing to a two-story just three houses down.
“Um, Thea…they’re all white.”
“Fine, smartass. The one with the mossy shutters and dogwoods growing around the mailbox.”
He pulls the truck into the drive, parking behind Jonas’