Running into Love
Page 28
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“I give up,” she huffs, putting quarters into the slots in the top of the machine and starting it up before dumping in a cup of detergent.
“I’ll tell the super to put new lights in,” I say, looking at the one yellow bulb hanging in the middle of the room.
“Haven’t you ever been down here before?” she asks, looking over at me as she fills a second machine with laundry.
“Nope.”
“So where do you wash your clothes?”
“I send my laundry out. I don’t have the time or the inclination to do it myself.”
“They have that kind of thing?” she asks, and I smile.
“Babe, you live in Manhattan, one of the biggest cities in the world. They have laundry services.”
“Oh.” Her nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t know how I’d feel about someone besides me washing my clothes. What if they’re a weirdo?”
“You don’t think that someone could come down here and pull your panties out of the dryer to sniff them?”
“Don’t say that,” she cries, looking horrified. “Now I’m going to have to sit down here while my laundry’s in the machine, because I’m not going to be able to stop thinking that someone is down here doing that.”
“You’ll worry about that but not about the fact that you could kill someone or yourself getting your laundry down here? Or the lighting in this room?” I shake my head, and her eyes narrow.
“I’ve been doing my laundry down here for over two years and nothing has ever happened, so I’m pretty sure I’m good, and besides that, until you came along, I had never been accident-prone. So maybe my sudden clumsiness is all your fault.”
“You did say I make you dizzy.” I grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“You are so full of yourself,” she huffs, picking up her jug of detergent and heading for the door. Following her up the first flight of steps, I watch her ass, then give in and toss her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks as I jog up the steps.
“We’re getting to the good part of the day.”
“The good part?” she asks, and I pull her down until she’s in front of me and her legs are wrapped around my hips.
“Yeah, the part where we spend a couple hours making out.”
“Oh,” she breathes as I push open the door of her apartment, taking her mouth while I carry her across to the couch. We spend most of the day there, only stopping to eat and go downstairs to change over laundry.
Chapter 9
WAY TOO FAST
FAWN
Knocking on Levi’s door, I chew on my bottom lip in nervousness. When I left him this morning to catch my train, I hadn’t planned on seeing him again until after the weekend. But once I got to my parents’ house out on Long Island and walked through the door, all I could do was think about him being home alone tomorrow on Thanksgiving. My mom, who knew exactly why I was in such a strange mood, pulled me aside and suggested I leave and spend the holiday with Levi. I didn’t debate for a second. I kissed my family goodbye and got back on the train to come home. Only now I’m wondering if I should have. Yes, the last two weeks with Levi have been amazing—magical, really. But we are still very new, and spending holidays together is a big, giant step forward, even if we have spent every night in the same bed and under the same roof unless he had to work.
Hearing the locks click, I come out of my head and pull my shoulders back, feeling my stomach fill with nervous butterflies.
“Baby.” His eyes scan over me slowly from head to toe, like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I . . .” I pause, wondering what I should say, exactly, then figure the truth is probably the best place to start. “I couldn’t stand the idea of you being home alone tomor—” My words come to an abrupt end as he nabs my hand and pulls me into his apartment, slamming the door, pushing me back against it. My purse falls to the floor. “Levi—” My hands go to his bare chest as he moves closer, pressing his body against mine.
“You—” He pauses, searching my face, and I watch his eyes darken to a deeper, richer amber color. “You came back to spend Thanksgiving with me?” he asks quietly, and I feel my face soften as my hands move up his chest to his shoulders while his hand wraps around the back of my head and his fingers slide up into my hair.
“Yes, I came back to spend Thanksgiving with you.”
“We have no food for tomorrow,” he says, dropping his mouth to my neck, licking up the column of my throat as his free hand slides up the front of my shirt, over my stomach, stopping to rest on the underside of my breast.
“Th . . . that’s okay,” I pant, pressing my head back into the door as his lips, tongue, and teeth work along my neck. “We can eat out,” I moan as he pulls down the cup of my bra and slides his thumb over my nipple.
“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I don’t want to eat out.” He licks up to my ear, making the space between my legs pulse. “I want to eat you.”
“Oh,” I breathe, closing my eyes. We’ve done a lot—I mean, a lot—of fooling around over the last two weeks, but he’s never gone too far and has always stopped before things could get out of hand, insisting I need to understand what giving myself to him means.
“You’re mine, Fawn, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate or try to deny it. I’m his, all his. He pulls back to look at me, and I stare into his eyes, which have become so familiar and so important.
“There’s no going back. I won’t let you go,” he says with a finality that should scare me as his hand tangles more tightly in my hair, like he’s afraid his words will cause me to disappear.
“Good,” I say, meaning that sentiment with everything in me. I don’t want him to let me go. Ever. I know this is fast, but I also know the thought of being without him makes me panic.
“Christ.” He drops his forehead to mine, resting it there for a moment before moving his hands to my ass. “Hop up,” he commands, lifting me until my legs encircle his hips. Carrying me across his apartment, he takes me into his room and kicks the door closed. “Lose the jacket and the shirt, baby,” he says softly, keeping me in his arms. Working quickly I slip off my jacket, then pull my long-sleeved shirt off over my head, leaving me in a sheer dark-burgundy—almost black—lace bra. As soon as I drop the shirt to the ground, his mouth lands against mine and we’re moving again. Putting one knee, then the other on the bed, Levi walks us across the mattress, then lays me down with my head resting on the pillow. His mouth never leaves mine as my fingers run through his thick hair and my hips arch into his. Pulling back, he sits up on his knees, and my eyes rake over him. His hair has grown out a little over the last two weeks and now curls around his ears and the back of his neck. His eyes are darker and filled with something warm, something I know is only for me. His jaw is hard and grinding as he looks me over. Dropping my eyes to the expanse of his chest, the cut of his abs, and the deep V that disappears into his sweats—and the outline of his giant erection—my core pulses. He’s perfect.
“Fuck, I don’t know where the fuck to start.” His hand wraps around my neck, then slides down between my breasts, over my stomach and to my jeans, which he unbuttons and unzips, exposing the lace panties that match my bra. Sliding both hands up my waist, he cups my breasts, then pulls down the lace to expose my nipples to his gaze.
“Levi.” My hips lift, and I feel the hard ridge of his cock against my pussy through the layers of fabric between us. “Please.” He pulls my jeans down over my hips, then runs two fingers over the lace covering me before removing the jeans and tossing them to the ground. Putting me back in the same position I was in moments ago, his fingers slide back down over the lace covering my core.
“God, you’re already so fucking wet for me,” he groans, bending forward and putting his fist on the bed near my shoulder. I watch as his muscles flex. “I love that. I’m going to enjoy every drop you can give me,” he says, kissing me once more, deep and desperate, like he can’t get enough of me. Running my hands through his hair, I skate them down the smooth skin of his back as his weight presses me into the mattress and my legs wind tighter around his hips. Pulling his mouth away from mine, he licks, nibbles, and bites down my neck to my breasts, where he proceeds to torment me by licking around my nipples—avoiding giving me what I really need.
“I’ll tell the super to put new lights in,” I say, looking at the one yellow bulb hanging in the middle of the room.
“Haven’t you ever been down here before?” she asks, looking over at me as she fills a second machine with laundry.
“Nope.”
“So where do you wash your clothes?”
“I send my laundry out. I don’t have the time or the inclination to do it myself.”
“They have that kind of thing?” she asks, and I smile.
“Babe, you live in Manhattan, one of the biggest cities in the world. They have laundry services.”
“Oh.” Her nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t know how I’d feel about someone besides me washing my clothes. What if they’re a weirdo?”
“You don’t think that someone could come down here and pull your panties out of the dryer to sniff them?”
“Don’t say that,” she cries, looking horrified. “Now I’m going to have to sit down here while my laundry’s in the machine, because I’m not going to be able to stop thinking that someone is down here doing that.”
“You’ll worry about that but not about the fact that you could kill someone or yourself getting your laundry down here? Or the lighting in this room?” I shake my head, and her eyes narrow.
“I’ve been doing my laundry down here for over two years and nothing has ever happened, so I’m pretty sure I’m good, and besides that, until you came along, I had never been accident-prone. So maybe my sudden clumsiness is all your fault.”
“You did say I make you dizzy.” I grin, and she rolls her eyes.
“You are so full of yourself,” she huffs, picking up her jug of detergent and heading for the door. Following her up the first flight of steps, I watch her ass, then give in and toss her over my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she squeaks as I jog up the steps.
“We’re getting to the good part of the day.”
“The good part?” she asks, and I pull her down until she’s in front of me and her legs are wrapped around my hips.
“Yeah, the part where we spend a couple hours making out.”
“Oh,” she breathes as I push open the door of her apartment, taking her mouth while I carry her across to the couch. We spend most of the day there, only stopping to eat and go downstairs to change over laundry.
Chapter 9
WAY TOO FAST
FAWN
Knocking on Levi’s door, I chew on my bottom lip in nervousness. When I left him this morning to catch my train, I hadn’t planned on seeing him again until after the weekend. But once I got to my parents’ house out on Long Island and walked through the door, all I could do was think about him being home alone tomorrow on Thanksgiving. My mom, who knew exactly why I was in such a strange mood, pulled me aside and suggested I leave and spend the holiday with Levi. I didn’t debate for a second. I kissed my family goodbye and got back on the train to come home. Only now I’m wondering if I should have. Yes, the last two weeks with Levi have been amazing—magical, really. But we are still very new, and spending holidays together is a big, giant step forward, even if we have spent every night in the same bed and under the same roof unless he had to work.
Hearing the locks click, I come out of my head and pull my shoulders back, feeling my stomach fill with nervous butterflies.
“Baby.” His eyes scan over me slowly from head to toe, like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay. “What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, I . . .” I pause, wondering what I should say, exactly, then figure the truth is probably the best place to start. “I couldn’t stand the idea of you being home alone tomor—” My words come to an abrupt end as he nabs my hand and pulls me into his apartment, slamming the door, pushing me back against it. My purse falls to the floor. “Levi—” My hands go to his bare chest as he moves closer, pressing his body against mine.
“You—” He pauses, searching my face, and I watch his eyes darken to a deeper, richer amber color. “You came back to spend Thanksgiving with me?” he asks quietly, and I feel my face soften as my hands move up his chest to his shoulders while his hand wraps around the back of my head and his fingers slide up into my hair.
“Yes, I came back to spend Thanksgiving with you.”
“We have no food for tomorrow,” he says, dropping his mouth to my neck, licking up the column of my throat as his free hand slides up the front of my shirt, over my stomach, stopping to rest on the underside of my breast.
“Th . . . that’s okay,” I pant, pressing my head back into the door as his lips, tongue, and teeth work along my neck. “We can eat out,” I moan as he pulls down the cup of my bra and slides his thumb over my nipple.
“No,” he denies, shaking his head. “I don’t want to eat out.” He licks up to my ear, making the space between my legs pulse. “I want to eat you.”
“Oh,” I breathe, closing my eyes. We’ve done a lot—I mean, a lot—of fooling around over the last two weeks, but he’s never gone too far and has always stopped before things could get out of hand, insisting I need to understand what giving myself to him means.
“You’re mine, Fawn, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I don’t even hesitate or try to deny it. I’m his, all his. He pulls back to look at me, and I stare into his eyes, which have become so familiar and so important.
“There’s no going back. I won’t let you go,” he says with a finality that should scare me as his hand tangles more tightly in my hair, like he’s afraid his words will cause me to disappear.
“Good,” I say, meaning that sentiment with everything in me. I don’t want him to let me go. Ever. I know this is fast, but I also know the thought of being without him makes me panic.
“Christ.” He drops his forehead to mine, resting it there for a moment before moving his hands to my ass. “Hop up,” he commands, lifting me until my legs encircle his hips. Carrying me across his apartment, he takes me into his room and kicks the door closed. “Lose the jacket and the shirt, baby,” he says softly, keeping me in his arms. Working quickly I slip off my jacket, then pull my long-sleeved shirt off over my head, leaving me in a sheer dark-burgundy—almost black—lace bra. As soon as I drop the shirt to the ground, his mouth lands against mine and we’re moving again. Putting one knee, then the other on the bed, Levi walks us across the mattress, then lays me down with my head resting on the pillow. His mouth never leaves mine as my fingers run through his thick hair and my hips arch into his. Pulling back, he sits up on his knees, and my eyes rake over him. His hair has grown out a little over the last two weeks and now curls around his ears and the back of his neck. His eyes are darker and filled with something warm, something I know is only for me. His jaw is hard and grinding as he looks me over. Dropping my eyes to the expanse of his chest, the cut of his abs, and the deep V that disappears into his sweats—and the outline of his giant erection—my core pulses. He’s perfect.
“Fuck, I don’t know where the fuck to start.” His hand wraps around my neck, then slides down between my breasts, over my stomach and to my jeans, which he unbuttons and unzips, exposing the lace panties that match my bra. Sliding both hands up my waist, he cups my breasts, then pulls down the lace to expose my nipples to his gaze.
“Levi.” My hips lift, and I feel the hard ridge of his cock against my pussy through the layers of fabric between us. “Please.” He pulls my jeans down over my hips, then runs two fingers over the lace covering me before removing the jeans and tossing them to the ground. Putting me back in the same position I was in moments ago, his fingers slide back down over the lace covering my core.
“God, you’re already so fucking wet for me,” he groans, bending forward and putting his fist on the bed near my shoulder. I watch as his muscles flex. “I love that. I’m going to enjoy every drop you can give me,” he says, kissing me once more, deep and desperate, like he can’t get enough of me. Running my hands through his hair, I skate them down the smooth skin of his back as his weight presses me into the mattress and my legs wind tighter around his hips. Pulling his mouth away from mine, he licks, nibbles, and bites down my neck to my breasts, where he proceeds to torment me by licking around my nipples—avoiding giving me what I really need.
