Home > My One Night (On My Own #1)(7)

My One Night (On My Own #1)(7)
Author: Carrie Ann Ryan

“A guy has to be careful. Pacey warned me. He didn’t lock his door once in his old house and walked into the room with the girl he was seeing, only to find somebody already enjoying his bed.”

“Oh, hell,” she said with a laugh.

“Exactly. Anyway, here’s my home.” I shrugged and took a step back. When we had chosen rooms, thanks to Pacey’s Twizzlers, I’d ended up with the master. Each room had its own bathroom and was each a different size. Somehow, I had the largest room in the house with the most massive bathroom—though not the biggest tub. And while I might love it, I still felt terrible that I had all this extra space. I even had a little seating area, one where it was nice to get some work done when I didn’t want to study downstairs with the rest of the guys.

It was like a tiny apartment up here within the big house, and I knew I was blessed. I still paid the same rent as the other guys, even though I didn’t think it was fair, but they had all agreed that it made no sense to go by square footage when the rest of the house was so big. Everybody had the space they needed. Mine just happened to be in my bedroom.

“This is a bigger room than I thought you’d have,” she said, looking around. “It’s like three times the size of mine.”

I chuckled, my shoulders tensing. “It was a big statehouse back in the day. And since this is the master bedroom, I have all the space. I didn’t ask for it,” I said quickly at her look. “I just got lucky when we drew straws. Or Twizzlers, in that case.”

“You drew candy and got the biggest room?” she asked, laughing.

“Yeah, sometimes fate works out pretty weird,” I said, meeting her gaze. It was a bit awkward now. It had been a little strange before, but now it felt as if we were on the brink of something that could change everything. Still, I needed to stop worrying about being so serious. I didn’t know if we would go through with what we had talked about, but maybe we would. Or perhaps we would just sit in my little seating area and talk for the night. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I did know that I would be happy with either outcome. It was so weird that I would think that after just meeting this person.

But then again, I remembered her from the coffee shop. I remembered looking at her, remembered that first glance. Even then, I’d wondered who she was. Later that evening, I had broken up with Mandy, though not because of the girl with the bright eyes and the intriguing face. Still, she had haunted my dreams a few times and made me want to know more about her. But I had broken up with Mandy because she hadn’t wanted to be with me and had called me less than. She had said that I wasn’t worth dating for long. That I wasn’t the forever type. I might not have wanted forever with Mandy, but I had thought we had at least been on the same page. I hadn’t known I was just her boy toy for the afternoon while she waited for someone better to come along.

I had been a stand-in for most of my life until my brother Cameron took me in. I had been less than in my mother’s eyes for her entire life, and even less than that in my father’s—a man I didn’t even know.

I hadn’t wanted to be that with Mandy.

I felt a soft brush of fingertips on my skin and looked up into Elise’s eyes.

“Why are you frowning? You look so sad.”

I shook my head and pushed those thoughts from my mind. “It’s not important.”

She tilted her head. “Maybe it is.”

“Maybe. But not for tonight.” I let out a sigh. “I want to talk about happy things. Nothing important. You know?”

She nodded and leaned into the cushions as we sat down on the small loveseat in my room. “Yeah, I constantly have to talk about important things with my friends and my family. They’re always wanting to know what I’m thinking or doing. And while I love them, I sometimes just want to pretend that nothing’s wrong for the moment. You know?”

“Exactly,” I said, relieved that she understood.

“Not that we need to do anything tonight,” I repeated.

“Totally. We don’t need to do anything,” she whispered and then licked her lips. I couldn’t help but follow the gesture and lick mine in response.

Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted slightly.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

“I have no fucking clue,” I said, shaking my head. “But I kind of want to find out.”

I leaned forward and gently brushed my lips over hers. She let out a shocked gasp and then opened for me, sliding her tongue against mine.

I groaned and deepened the kiss slightly before moving back, needing to catch my breath and gather my thoughts.

“We don’t have to do anything, but if you want, I think we could have a little fun,” I said, knowing that wasn’t the best line. I didn’t even want to use lines. I wanted to be open and honest. And, hell, I wanted to taste her again. Something about her called to me, and there was probably something wrong with that. A temptation and an addiction that I needed to stay away from. But I didn’t want to. Not then.

Maybe not ever.

“You taste so sweet,” I whispered, and she looked up at me.

“Oh?” she said, her voice breathy.

“Yes, and I want more,” I said softly.

“Good. Me, too.”

I loved her contradiction. Sometimes, she was all fire and directness. Other times, she was the exact opposite as if she were still trying to find out who she was and determine what she wanted. I didn’t mind. I was pretty much the same. And for the evening, it felt like we fit together.

At least, I hoped so.

I kissed her again, brushing her hair away from her face as I did. She tentatively slid her hands down my arms, squeezing my biceps, and I leaned into her, wanting more. She tasted slightly of beer and toothpaste. An odd combination but it worked. I kissed her harder, running my hands across her face and then down her neck to her collarbones. She shivered at the touch, and I grinned before backing away slightly to nibble at her lip.

She groaned, and I moved a bit, kneeling with one leg on the loveseat to slightly push her back against the side of the cushion. Her eyes widened, and then she slowly trailed her fingers up my ribs, over my shirt. I hovered over her and then kissed her again, this time gently placing my hand on her side, under the softness of her top. Her skin was warm, so fucking silky, and I groaned as she let out a breath. She kissed me deeper, and I moaned, slowly lowering myself so I knelt between her legs. I kissed her again, then slowly moved my hand up, cupping her ribs just below her breast. She groaned, and I kissed her harder.

But when I wanted more, I knew this angle wouldn’t work. I lowered my hands, reached for her hips, and moved to sit down. She let out a gasp and straddled me as I sat, her heat right above my cock. It didn’t matter that we both wore jeans and there were enough clothes between us that we shouldn’t be able to feel this much friction. All I could do was feel the heat of her. She pushed her hair back from her face, and I cupped the nape of her neck, bringing her closer to me. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her hands moving to either side of me on the couch as she rocked against me. I groaned, my cock pressing hard against the zipper of my jeans. I kissed her again, needing more. She increased the friction, and I wrapped my other hand around her hip, squeezing. She didn’t stop moving. Instead, she ground down harder. I moaned and pulled away, needing to breathe.

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