17. I’m On Fire

CHAPTER 17

I'M ON FIRE

? AWOLNATION

An angel is sleeping in the arms of the devil tonight.

She's been asleep for about half an hour, and the whole time, I've been debating whether I should leave. Whenever the thought comes to mind, I realize I'd have to move, which would mean waking her up, so I stay. I'm watching her and have no idea what's going on in the movie playing in the background; I'm too busy watching how her nose scrunches up just before she nuzzles into my chest. Carefully, I take off her glasses and set them on the table.

She's beautiful.

My eyes are getting heavy, and the slow rhythm of her breathing is lulling me to sleep, so I give in, lean my head back against the couch, and fall asleep with her in my arms.

When I wake up, it's dark, and I take a second to remember where I am. The TV has gone into sleep mode, and her thick curtains block out any street lights. I'm still holding Lexi, but she's twitching, trying to fight someone away—that must be what woke me. She yells and lashes out.

"Hey, hey. You're okay, Angel," I say in a soothing voice, running my fingers up and down her arm, barely ghosting her soft, pale skin. I hope this will wake her slowly or at least help pull her out of the nightmare. "You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you."

She sits bolt upright and gasps as she looks around the room like she's waiting for someone to pounce on her. I'm about to say something so she can remember who I am, but she beats me to it.

"James?"

"You were having a nightmare. I wasn't sure what to do." She wraps the blanket tighter around her while her eyes adjust to the darkness. "Do you want some water?" I hand her glasses to her.

"Coffee." She takes the glasses and sets them to the side. "Thanks. I don't need them all the time."

"Oh, uhm, I can get you coffee!" I go to stand, but she grabs my arm and stares at me, eyes wide with fright. Whatever she saw in the nightmare refuses to let go of her, so neither am I. I'll show her and her demons that I'll fight for her. "Or I can stay right here, whatever you need."

"I'm sorry," she winces, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Fuck. This has been the weirdest day for you, I'm sure—pie, my mom, me crying, nightmares. I told you I was a mess. Ugh."

I brush her wild hair out of her face and smile, able to make out the eyeliner smudged around her eyes even in the dark. Her lips are pouty and begging for me to kiss them, and it's taking everything in me to hold back. I forget whatever I'm about to say when she reaches up and touches my face. I doubt I could get a solid caveman grunt going at the moment. I'm far too enamored with her fingers softly brushing against my scruffy beard.

"You…stayed?"

I nod, "Yeah. I hope that's okay."

"Why?"

"I…uhm…You were asleep…and I didn't want to wake you."

"I don't get it."

"I thought you could use the sleep after the shit your mom did." She's moving closer to me, and I realize I've started blinking faster."You, uhm, you looked so peaceful, and I," I stutter and trip over every word I'm trying to say. "…I wanted to make sure you didn't have more company. I can leave if you?—"

"James?" Her voice is raspy, and fuck, it's sexy. My mind is on the fritz as her hand slips down my chest. The air in the room is gone and my skin feels hotter than a desert. "Is yesterday's offer still on the table?"

"I think so," my voice breaks like a fucking teenager. Shit. "W-which one was that?"

"The one where you and I go out sometime. I think…I think I changed my mind." She swallows and climbs on top of me. "Although, right now, I might just be dreaming."

"I know I'm awake, even if you are an Angel."

"What are we doing?" We're just a breath apart.

"You're asking me questions."

"What are you doing?"

"Wondering what you taste like."

Our eyes have stayed locked on each other the entire time, and my heart is about to break a few of my ribs. My brain tries to pump the brakes, tossing every bad thought it can muster at me. What if she doesn't like you? What if I'm not enough? What if I fuck this up?

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, James."

"I like it when you say that. Say it again."

"Ja—"

She jumps back to the other side of the couch as her cell phone vibrates off a counter, hitting the floor just as a cop somewhere down the street whoops his sirens. She covers her face and starts laughing, and I let my head fall back on the arm of the couch. So close.

She jumps off the couch, and I'm watching her ass as she bends over to pick up her phone. When she looks back up, I glance quickly at my watch; it's just before six in the morning. I look at the windows and see the sun making its way up for the day.

I look back at her just in time to see her holding the phone to her ear and ducking into the bedroom. She closes the door behind her and I cover my face and groan.

"Son of a bitch," I sigh before picking the blanket up from the floor. I bury my face in it, breathing in the cherry blossoms. It makes my cock twitch when I think about her on top of me, how close her lips were.So damn close. I can't help but wonder who the fuck needed to call her this early. I also wonder what part of last night I did right. She's considering going out with me—or at least that's what I hope she was talking about when she asked if the offer was still on the table.

What if it wasn't? Wasn't she just about to kiss me? It had to be that, right? Yeah. But what if?

I hear the shower turn on.

"Okay. It's fine. It was just…it was nothing. We didn't kiss. Everything is fine." I'm mumbling to myself as I walk to the kitchen. "She wasn't awake. Nothing happened, it was all in your head. Give her some fucking space, man."

Making my way into the kitchen, I swipe through my phone and see a series of texts that came in late last night from my best friend, Chase Cooper.

Jackass

Dude, be home tomorrow afternoon. Beers? ? ?

Oh, and Mini Cooper is moving into my place two weeks from now.

Are you asleep or jerking off?

Nothing? Dude, are you getting laid or something??

I go through the cabinets until I find coffee, filters, and the coffeemaker. I'd make her breakfast if she had more in her kitchen. Waffles, French toast, eggs, anything she wanted. I could go to the store while she's showering, or order groceries. I need to get a hold of myself. It was a kiss. No, an almost kiss. Why am I freaking out over an almost -kiss?

Jamie

I'll be there tomorrow for beers.

Jackass

So, what's her name?

Jamie

Fuck you, man.

Jackass

So she's French? Kidding. You better spill it tomorrow, Jimbo.

Someone clears their throat behind me, and I spin around, bumping my head into the cabinet and dropping my phone.

"Oww!" I grab my head and she rushes over, running her hands through my hair. I should do that more often.

"Sorry, I was trying not to sneak up on you since you seemed like you were kind of in your own little world!" She continues checking my head and trying to act concerned as she hides her laughter. "Did you find the demon in my fridge? The fucker keeps bailing on rent and overcooking my eggs."

"What? No, I was, uhm, I was gonna make coffee." I hold up the package of grounds and shrug while I wince. "You said you wanted coffee, didn't you? Wait, who cooks your eggs?"

"Relax, I was trying to be funny. Do you have a concussion or something?" Her smile is soft, and the sun lights her wild hair like a pink lion's mane. The silky bathrobe clings to her glistening, wet skin. She's not wearing a top, and her nipples are getting hard—so am I.

Good morning, butterflies. It's nice to know you're still around.

"I think I died, actually." There's no doubt that my grin is goofy and uncool, but I can't help it.

"Head okay?"

The ten-year-old in me giggles because of where my brain is. Thank fucking god I'm not high right now. I probably do have a concussion. "What? I mean, yeah, I uhm, I would make you breakfast, but?—"

"I have no food. I know. I keep heading to the grocery store and ending up at parties with Dani. It's crazy."

She hops up on the counter, and my eyes follow the fabric as it slips off her bare shoulder and down her arm. The opening, barely covering her breasts, dives to her soft stomach. The air is thick and I feel like I just ran a marathon.

"So, you okay?" My voice strains. I clear my throat as she grins and fixes her robe, "I mean, the nightmare."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I get nightmares sometimes. Thankfully, I rarely remember them once I wake up."

There's a familiar twitch in her eye when she says that, one I barely even catch. She's lying. She remembers all of her nightmares. I know how that can mess with someone's head. It's strange how much we have in common, and not much of it is good.

"So, uhm, do you have plans for today?" She asks with an eyebrow cocked, "Or are you just going to stand in my kitchen all day staring at me while holding up stale coffee grounds and filters?"

"No. That's all I have planned for the rest of my life. How about you?" I'm laughing again, and it's such a strange sensation. It's easy, not forced, not fake, just as natural as breathing—which I still have trouble doing when I'm near her. Everything seems easier around her—everything except breathing and talking.

"I thought we could get some of the beach shots they wanted out by the pier. It's probably not too bad this early. According to the weather app, we've got clouds for most of the morning." She slides off the counter and her hand brushes against mine as she reaches around me and presses the button on the coffeemaker that I had altogether forgotten about. This attempt at making her coffee is going as smoothly as most of my life.

Forget butterflies; when she moves, her body presses against me, and I'm hard as a rock. I'm trying to stand still and I'm not sure that's helping."T-that would be great. I need to check my Jeep to see if I have any clean clothes?—"

"Take off your pants," she whispers into my ear.

I'm glad I'm leaning against the counter, because my knees just gave out. Or I did just die.

She crosses the room and I somehow catch the heap of fabric she tosses at me, still trying to wrap my brain around what she's asked me to do. She laughs hard, doubling over when she realizes I'm not moving away from the counter. I follow right along with her, shaking my head at the sweatpants she threw at me. This should be uncomfortable. I should be embarrassed, but I'm not. Everything about right now—about her—just feels so right.

She gestures to the sweatpants., "I figured you could shower and then wear these while we toss your clothes in the washer." She nods to a stacked washer/dryer unit at the other end of the kitchen. "I can order breakfast, and we can go through the photos from yesterday while we eat. Then possibly the beach."

"Shit," I whisper as I stare at the laundry machines. "I was going to try to tempt you out to my place with the promise of a private, free washer and dryer. Guess I have to do better than that now, huh?"

She bites her lip as she looks at me. For a second, I think she might wait for me to strip out of my clothes right there in front of her, and I seriously think about it until she steps aside and says, "Leave your clothes on my bed. There are towels on the counter for you. I'll finish the coffee and then start the laundry when I hear the water turn off. I'll try to find you a shirt, too."

I nod, or I think I do. I've gone full zombie on my way to the bedroom until I'm standing next to her bed with my clothes in my hand. Part of me wants to call Coop and ask him what the fuck I'm supposed to do. This is his thing; I'm just the wingman. He's the one meeting stunning women and being smooth enough to land a date or whatever. Although, his luck with women has declined in recent years. Calling him is definitely off the table.

Instead, I pull up my dad's number and wait. I listen to the voicemail greeting, hang up, and take a deep breath to center myself.

Standing in the shower, I let the water cascade down my face and hair as I try to pull my head out of the clouds. I spot her body wash and sure enough, it's cherry blossom scented. I think about popping the lid open, but that smell won't help this hard-on. In fact, it would make me do things I don't want to do in her shower. At least, not without her. I turn the hot water off and let the blast of cold hit me until I'm shivering.

The sweatpants are a little tight, but they'll do for now. I check the bed and I don't see a shirt anywhere. For a split second, I contemplate checking her closet, but then change my mind. Her voice comes from the kitchen as I emerge from the bedroom. I listen, and once I'm sure she's on the phone, I grab my hoodie and head for the couch.

"The sweats are a good look on you." She's chipper and sweet as she joins me.

I avoid looking down to draw attention to the outline of my dick when I realize what I'm wearing. Tight grey sweatpants—clever girl. The smirk on her face says she knew exactly what she was doing. It also makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and smack that round ass while I carry her into the bedroom.

"How far into the second movie did you get?" She leans across me to put my coffee cup on the end table beside me. I close my eyes and pray to no one that I make it through the morning without making a total ass of myself. Somehow, I avoid looking down the opening of her robe.

"Uhm, oh, I didn't turn on the second one. Guess we were, uhh, tired."

"Good. We could, uhm, watch it later."

"Later?" My eyes shoot open and find hers. She's sitting beside me on the couch with a pillow over her lap and her hair up in a messy ponytail. Her makeup is gone, and I can see the constellation of freckles decorating her nose and cheeks. There's a soft dusting of pink from her blushing, and I know I'm doomed to be forever haunted by those dark brown eyes staring back at me. This woman could ask me to rob a bank, and I'd ask which one.

"Yeah, hopefully tonight? If, you know, you're free or whatever." A buzzer goes off somewhere in the kitchen and she hops up and starts walking away while talking. "I mean, if you're not busy—which you probably are—never mind. I should probably…work. Or…something…"

She doesn't wait for an answer, disappearing behind the wall and still mumbling to herself. I'm off the couch and following her in an instant. When I round the corner, she's on her tiptoes, her long legs stretching and the robe no longer covering her ass. She's trying to reach a basket at the top of the laundry closet while she does my fucking laundry and I'm standing here ogling her like a fucking asshole.

I reach over her, causing her to squeak twice. Once when she feels my hand on her hip, and the second time when I press against her.

"About tonight," I say as I pull the basket down and hand it to her with a grin. "I'll spend any time I can with you, Angel, but I can't promise I'll be watching much of the movie with you around."

Her robe has fallen again, and my fingers trace around the tattoo on her shoulder. It's a distinct style from the others. Simple line art of a caterpillar rather than colorful characters.

"My sister and I have matching ones."

"What does it mean?"

""Sort of a Disney reference. A promise that someday, if I give myself enough time, I'll be a beautiful butterfly." She turns to face me. That mischievous sparkle in the corner of her eye has my mind in a haze.

"But Angel, you already are."

I stare at her because she's all I can see. I hold her face, my thumbs sliding over her soft skin as she looks through me and into my soul. The sounds of apartment life fade away to somewhere distant, and all I hear are the unsteady breaths we're both taking. My thumb slides over her parted lips and I know what I have to do.

"Oh, fuck it."

I cup my hand around her neck, pulling her in and we collide, savoring her in a long, deep kiss. I was right—she tastes like candy. We don't waste time on soft and slow, that can come later. Right now, we're too caught up in the moment. Tongues tangle as our mouths meet over and over, chasing each other like it's a game. I push her backward, grabbing her wrist as we hit the wall and swallowing her little chirps of pleasure.

Her back arches and her hips roll against me while I have her caged in my arms. I hear an unfamiliar moan from myself when her leg slides up mine, her body begging for more.

When we break for air, I hold her face to mine, afraid she'll run away if I don't because that's what I expect. I wait for her to pull away, to smack me for reading the situation wrong. But she kisses me back. Each time deeper than the last. Her arms slip around my neck and I pick her up and put her on the counter.

"James!"

We break apart just long enough for me to whisper, "I'll stop. If that's what you want. But you have to tell me."

"Don't." Her voice is soft and breathy, bordering on a moan that goes straight to my cock as she pulls me back for more. Our mouths slide together again as her legs wrap around my hips, holding me there. "Please. Don't stop."

It's not a request, it's a demand. Not a trace of doubt in her voice. The way she kisses me makes me think she's wanted this as badly as I have.

"Good, ‘cause I don't think I can stop."

Her fingers play in my wet hair, nails dragging along my scalp and making me moan into her. Her robe is falling open and my hands slide up her thighs, finding her hips and squeezing hard. She's rocking against the growing bulge in my pants and I'm leaving bruises along her pale skin. Her whole body sings with every move and every touch while I feel like I've been bathed in lava. I need her, all of her.

"Tell me what you want. Tell me everything that you need. Let me fucking worship you." I can't stop my heart from hammering and when one of her hands drops and lays flat against my chest, I know she can feel it.

"You," she whines. "I need you, James."

Fuck, my name sounds good on her candy flavored lips. I kiss along her jaw and to her neck and all I can focus on is how badly I need to explore all of her. Biting just hard enough on her earlobe to pull a whimper from her, I whisper, "You have me, Angel. Always."

As her knees spread wider apart, she reaches for my hoodie, desperately trying to pull it off, but I stop her. She wants to argue, but the words never come because my fingers are already tracing over her soaked panties and teasing her clit.

"Fuck, Lexi, you're so wet for me. What would you have done if I didn't follow you here? Was that your little plan? Torment me all morning?"

Her back arches as I tease her clit, bringing the sweetest noises from her lips to my ears. "I…I was going to try sitting on your lap. I even wore this robe just for you."

"Atta girl." My hands find the tie of her robe, pulling gently until it gives way and slips down her shoulders. There she is. My beautiful fucking muse is bare in front of me, and she's even more breathtaking than I had imagined. She's like a feast and I don't know where to start. "I'll take care of you, baby."

Her hand is back in my hair, switching between pulling it hard and running her nails over my scalp. I move her underwear to the side and tease her clit with my thumb. I want to sink into her endlessly, and she's so fucking wet right now, I could. When I slide my finger through her folds, her hips buck, begging for me.

"I want to know everything about you," I hum against her ear, two fingers slowly pushing into her pulsing cunt. "I want to know about your fantasies and what turns you on. I want to find every spot that makes you scream. Say my name again."

"Oh god, James! Just like that!" She coos, her head rocking back when I curl my fingers and rub against her G-spot.

"Good girl. Now don't stop saying it until you fucking come." Our mouths slot together like they were made for each other.