I had no time to recover.
No time to process the best orgasm of my life.
Because Thatch was too busy kissing me again, pressing me against the dresser, then lifting me against the wall. My back met the wall with so much force that I let out a grunt.
“Sorry.” His mouth twitched.
“No you aren’t.” I was breathing too heavy, and yes, damn him, I was sweating; he’d made me sweat.
His eyes were still locked on mine. “Has there been anyone since . . .”
I wanted to lie.
Instead, I shook my head. “You?”
He licked my lower lip and whispered. “What do you think?”
“I think I may go to prison for murder if the answer’s yes.”
With a warm chuckle near my ear, he whispered, “I wouldn’t be doing this . . .” He thrust inside me so deep, I almost couldn’t breathe. “Or this . . .” He pulled almost completely out before slamming into me again; the picture next to my face crashed to the floor with a thud. “Or even this . . .” He gritted his teeth as pleasure exploded around me on his next thrust and my body convulsed around him. “If that were the case, Austin.”
In a haze of lust, I noted the desperation in his eyes. I hated it. Because I didn’t know the reason behind it.
So when he thrust harder, deeper, when I felt like I was going to either die or go insane, I held on to his hot, sweaty body and allowed myself to get lost in the pleasure of the moment, knowing it would be over too soon.
“God, I missed you,” he gasped in my ear. “So close.”
“I missed you too,” I whimpered, my head falling back against the wall as I found my release. “Thatch!”
“Needed you,” he said one last time before I felt him fill me. “So bad.”
We didn’t break apart right away.
Instead, panting, we stared at each other. I was afraid to move.
I didn’t know if he wanted me to leave.
If I should leave.
If he was going to pretend like he didn’t just rock my world.
I was in awkward territory. My heart was still hammering like I’d decided to sprint for the last thirty minutes, and my muscles felt weak. I wasn’t so sure I would actually make it to my car.
“Come on.” He pulled away, I immediately shivered, and then, he led me to his bed.
A bed I knew well.
He gently tucked me in on my side, kissed me on the forehead—damn it!—and then he whispered, “Sleep.”
“Where are you going?”
His jaw tightened before he ran his hands over his mussed-up hair and then planted them on either side of his head. “I can’t sleep, not after that. I have enough adrenaline to fuel an entire pack of Red Bull.” He grinned easily. “I may watch TV or something.”
I nodded and then said, “Maybe I can join you?”
Without saying anything, he walked back over to the bed, picked me up, comforter and all, and stalked out of the room.
We fell asleep to Jimmy Fallon.
And when I woke up a few hours later.
I was back in the bed—without Thatch by my side.
“The hell you are!” I spit. “You can’t come in!” I was seriously minutes away from calling the police on my own father. He’d been out of the hospital for three hours—and was already completely wasted.
“I’m your father!” Amazing that he wasn’t even slurring his words, although his body swayed a bit. Damn it!
I had Austin.
Austin in my bed.
And I had to deal with this shit!
“Give me your keys.” I held out my hand.
Dad shrugged. “I left ’em.”
“You left them,” I repeated. “Where?”
“No idea.” He burst out laughing.
“Stay here,” I said through clenched teeth while I ran back into my apartment, grabbed the spare key, and tried not to break it in half while I stomped back to my dad and then across the hall.
When I opened his door to let him in, he, naturally, tripped over his own feet and stumbled against one of his entry tables.
Swearing, I slammed the door and began doing the usual. Make a pot of coffee, search his house for bottles of whiskey, put a glass of water by his bedside along with a bucket to puke in, and an extra set of clothes.
By the time I was done, it was already six a.m., and I hadn’t slept since the loud knocking this morning. Thank God Austin slept like the dead.
My dad was snoring on his bed by the time I made it back to my apartment.
Smiling for the first time in a while, I made my way into my bedroom.
My bed was empty.
Austin was gone.
And I could only imagine what she assumed.
That I’d somehow abandoned her in my own apartment.
I hated my life.
And my dad.
In reverse order.
My morning was not starting well. I had three missed calls from Avery that I ignored because I still smelled like sweaty Thatch and was in the process of gathering my clothes so I could run home and shower before class, when my father decided, “Hey, let’s make sure my daughter is alive and breathing.”
He wanted me to go to lunch with him and my mom.
And of course he just had to text me that early to ask!
So basically, he had something to tell me—that was the only reason for his lunches, and of course he couldn’t be a normal parent and have those types of talks at the house, because nobody would see!
I texted him back yes only so I’d stop getting messages from him with a question mark, and went in search of my underwear.
I found it in the living room, which was odd since I was pretty sure I was stripped naked in his room.
I quickly put on all of my clothes and grabbed my purse. Luckily it was still early, so nobody would see me sneaking out.
I made it as far as the door before it hit me.
Not the guilt.
Not even regret.
Just utter sadness.
I’d let him in.
I’d trusted him even though I had known I shouldn’t.
And he’d bailed.
He’d actually left me in his apartment alone—that was how desperately he’d wanted to get away from me. I had literally driven him away from his place of residence!
Ugh. I pressed my fingers to my temples and eyed the ever-present notepad and pen near the entry. I itched to write a cute note that would sound super nonchalant, like, Oh hey, thanks for the bang, my lady parts really needed that, hah-hah, know what I mean?
I groaned out loud.
Because all Thatch had to do was crook his finger and he could have any woman he wanted. Why did he have to be so good with the words?
Stupid, stupid Austin.
I wasn’t going to leave a note.
He didn’t deserve a note.
I didn’t care how many orgasms he gave me! Or that he told me I was perfect. Tears stung the back of my eyes. Stupid tears. Why were girls so stupid?
Why was I so stupid?
I stomped all the way to my car and allowed myself a few tears once I was safely inside.
And just like Seattle.
It started to rain, pelting my windshield with angry drop after drop, totally matching my mood as I drove to what I knew would be an empty house.
Mom was probably already at hot yoga.
And Dad was clearly already at the office.
I opened the fridge and fished out a Mountain Dew, then closed the door. My own reflection in the shiny stainless steel mocked me.
“Shhh, nobody has to know,” I whispered to myself.
Good, so Thatch had officially brok
en me and now I was talking to myself, and most likely going to go crazy. Thanks, man, really.
I made it to my bedroom, fished out a MoonPie from my nightstand, and went to wash the sex off my skin.
“Austin!” Dad opened his arms wide, fake smile in place. He kissed me on both cheeks and then pulled out my chair.
My dad had impeccable manners.
Mom grinned over at us and then ordered everyone iced tea.
What a great, awesome family get-together.
“So, how are classes?” Dad asked once we’d looked at our menus.
“Great,” I lied. My one class may just kill me, I ended up in my ex’s bed, and I would probably still do it again if given the chance, oh and I have a broken heart. “Totally awesome.”