The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,52
place them on the nightstand before I crawl into the bed and pull the cover over my exposed legs. The pillow smells freshly washed, and I briefly wonder who does Cage and Murphy’s laundry. I bet they have a maid. I don’t see either one of them mopping the floor or scrubbing the toilets.
Closing my eyes, I force my mind to shut off and try to sleep, but the bed feels so cold. Great, I slept with him in my bed once, and I already can’t sleep alone. Tossing and turning, I tug the sheet up to my neck.
With my eyes closed, my mind does anything but shut down. It wanders to yesterday and how he held me at night and before… how he touched me, made me feel things that I’ve never felt before. The mere thought of it has me rubbing my thighs together. I never thought it could feel like that. So intense, all-consuming, and all he did was use his fingers on me.
Ugh, I can’t even grasp what actual sex would feel like. I’d probably never leave the bed. Once the thought has entered my mind, it doesn’t want to leave. I can’t stop thinking about how he touched me, the way he held me last night, the way I feel when I’m near him, and how my heart seems to beat a little faster.
I know I should be wary of him; he’s slept with a lot of girls, and he clearly has commitment issues, but he’s different with me. I know it. I feel it.
I don’t know how long I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, but it definitely seems like a long time, maybe an hour. That’s when I’ve had enough.
This is dumb, I obviously want him, and he wants me. It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to be more. I don’t have to get attached. We can be friends with benefits.
That’s a thing, right?
Yup, it’s a thing. It’s totally a thing.
Throwing the blanket off my legs, I climb out of bed. I’m going to do it. I’m going to sleep with him. My insides turn hot at the thought. I’m going to seduce Cage Wilder. Me, the virgin with little experience, is going to seduce the all-knowing.
Reaching for my glasses, I stop short of grabbing them. I shouldn’t put them on. They’ll be in the way. Deciding to leave them, I open my door very quietly and peer into the hall. My heart is galloping in my chest.
It’s now or never. Stepping out of the room and into the hallway, I close the door behind me. The house is eerily quiet, and I shiver, my nipples pebble against the thin fabric. Butterflies fill my belly.
My eyes aren’t terribly bad. I can see plenty without my glasses, but in the dark hall, I have to use my hands to feel along the wall.
By the time I reach his door, my hands are clammy, and I’ve tried to talk myself out of going to his room five hundred times. I reach for the doorknob, the brass is ice cold on my heated skin. Breathing deeply, I turn it and push the door open.
The room is quiet, too quiet.
It’s even darker in here than it was in the hallway. Heavy drapes block out most of the light the moon offers.
I tiptoe into the room, inching closer to the bed, where I see Cage’s large frame in the center of the mattress.
I start to crawl onto the bed, the soft sheets rubbing against my skin as I do. Cage stirs, his huge body turning toward me, and that’s when I catch the contours of his face. That’s when I realize this is not Cage at all.
Like a cat touching water, I jump off the bed with a loud scream. I stumble back and fall flat on my ass. I screamed so damn loud that I make my own ears ring.
“What the fuck?” I hear Murphy’s voice, the moment before the light is switched on.
Squinting my eyes, I try to get adjusted to my surroundings. I’m still confused and disoriented when Cage comes storming into the room, obviously wakened by my scream.
“What the hell? Why are you in Murphy’s room?”
“I…” My cheeks feel as hot as the sun.
“I’m pretty sure she was trying to sneak into your room and walked in the wrong room.” Murphy chuckles like seeing me on the floor, my face the color of a ripe tomato is amusing.
Cage’s sinister gaze swings between us.