The Perfect Fit (Riley O'Brien & Co. #2.5) (10 page)

As soon as she sucked him back into her mouth, he began to thrust faster than before. Using her ponytail, he gently moved her head up and down on his erection.

With her mouth full of him, she cupped his testicles. They were drawn up tight, and she knew he wouldn’t last much longer. She gently squeezed his sac, and his rhythm faltered.

“Oh, Jesus, that feels good.”

He tugged on her ponytail, pulling her away from him. She looked up, wondering why he had stopped her.

“I’m about to come,” he warned her gruffly.

“That’s the point.” She licked her lips, tasting him on them. “I’m ready when you are.”

His eyes widened. “Do you want me to… Are you going to…”

She answered his question by guiding his erection back into her mouth. Yes, she wanted him to come in her mouth, and yes, she was going to swallow.

When she sucked hard on the head, his body bucked and he cried out. Semen spurted into her mouth, and she gladly took everything he gave her.

His big body was shaking with his orgasm, his penis still pulsing in her mouth. Slowly, she let it slip from her lips, swiping her tongue over the slit one last time.

Sitting back on her heels, she evaluated the result of her efforts. Zeke’s eyes were wet-looking, like he was on the verge of tears, and it suddenly occurred to her that this might be the first time he had been intimate with someone since his injury.

He exhaled a shaky breath before tucking his spent penis back into his underwear. As he pulled up his pajama bottoms, she stood, found her scrubs top, and pulled it over her head.

She curled up next to him on the sofa. He settled his arm around her shoulders and rubbed the side of her neck with his knuckles. The events of the day caught up with her, and she closed her eyes. The last thing she heard before she fell asleep was Zeke’s voice.

“Jesus. I can’t believe that actually happened.”

In Zeke’s experience, bad decisions fell into two categories: they either fucked up your life or they barely made a blip in it. He wasn’t sure which category last night fell into, but he suspected that kissing Margo, touching her breasts, and coming in her mouth was going to result in more than a blip.

His morning snack popped out of the toaster, and he placed the wheat bread on a plate. As he spread peanut butter over the slices, he wondered if maybe he’d dreamed the whole damn thing.

He still didn’t know how he and Margo had gone from talking about a dead dog to her giving him a blow job. If he were drawing a flowchart at work, he wouldn’t see any possible way to get from point A to point B.

After screwing the lid back on the peanut butter, he opened the strawberry preserves and smeared them on his toast. He took a big bite, careful not to drop any food on his softball uniform.

He wasn’t really hungry. In fact, he felt a little queasy. He dreaded the moment when Margo would emerge from her bedroom.

It was eleven o’clock, and he was surprised she was still asleep. Of course, yesterday had been a hellish, exhausting day for her, and she probably needed the rest.

She had fallen asleep on the sofa, snuggled up against him. And even though he’d told himself to go to his bedroom, he had fallen asleep beside her.

When he’d woken up in the middle of the night, his arm had been numb from the weight of her soft body. He had left her sleeping on the sofa, part of him wishing that he could have carried her to bed.

As he chewed, he thought about what he was going to say to her. He couldn’t just pretend last night had never happened, no matter how much he wanted to.

The memory of what they had done was burned into his brain. All he could see was Margo on her knees in front of him, his dick sliding in and out of her lush mouth.

Jesus
.

Without question, last night had been the single most erotic experience of his life. Now he understood why the entire male population was obsessed with blow jobs.

Since he’d never had one before, he hadn’t been aware of what he’d been missing. But Margo had shown him how mind-blowing it really was.

It was an understatement to say that Andrea hadn’t been sexually adventurous. She had liked the missionary position and that was it. She hadn’t been willing to try any others, and at some point, he’d stopped trying to convince her.

And forget about oral sex. She thought fellatio and cunnilingus were “yucky” and “unsanitary.”

Andrea was no longer hinting that they should reconcile. Whenever they spoke, which was way too often, she acted like getting back together was a foregone conclusion. She had even mentioned coming to San Francisco to visit.

Her presumption was his fault. He had been avoiding the much-needed conversation that would clarify his feelings on the subject.

Faintly, Zeke heard the squeak of Margo’s bedroom door—he really needed to put some WD-40 on the hinges—and wiped his mouth. He didn’t want to have peanut butter and strawberry preserves all over his face when he talked to her.

She rounded the corner from the hallway, and he took in her appearance in one swift glance. A gray camo-patterned bandana covered her hair, and she wore a teal T-shirt and black yoga pants.

As she came closer, he noticed that she looked tired, almost fragile. Her face lacked its usual glow, and the skin under her eyes looked bruised.

She stopped in the dining room, and they stared at each other across the granite bar. He had been afraid that she would try to kiss him good morning, and even more afraid of how he would respond.

But she was keeping her distance. And unlike every other morning, she wasn’t smiling and chirping at him. She probably regretted what had happened on the sofa as much as he did.

The tense, uncomfortable silence pissed him off. This was exactly what he
hadn’t
wanted … what he had been trying to prevent.

An ember of anger smoldered inside him. He was angry with Margo, but he was even angrier with himself.

When he’d been in the Army, he had preached accountability and responsibility to the men and women in his command. Now it was time for him to practice what he’d preached. He had to accept the consequences from last night and try to minimize the blowback.

With that in mind, he said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied as she joined him in the kitchen.

“Listen, I know this is awkward, but we need to talk about last night.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” She grabbed the teakettle and brought it to the sink. “Why don’t you start?”

“It never should have happened,” he stated flatly.

When she finished filling the kettle with water and turned off the faucet, she said, “You think it was a mistake.”

“Not a mistake, exactly. More of a…” He hesitated, struggling to find the right word. “An aberration.”

“An aberration,” she echoed.

“Yeah. We were both upset, and neither one of us was thinking clearly. We just got caught up in the moment.”

In the cold light of day, he wondered if he’d taken advantage of her, even though she had been the initiator. She had been vulnerable, grieving the loss of her patient. He wasn’t sure if she had wanted him or if he had just been a convenient outlet for her pain.

She nodded thoughtfully. “Are you attracted to me, Zeke?”

He didn’t know how to answer her question. Should he admit that he lusted after her or should he lie and tell her that she didn’t flip his switch?

“Yes, I’m attracted to you,” he answered honestly. “I thought that was pretty obvious last night.”

She brought the teakettle to the stove and turned on the gas heat. “So where do we go from here?”

“I want to keep things platonic. I don’t want last night to ruin things between us.”

“So we’re just going to pretend it never happened?” she asked as she retrieved her favorite mug from the dishwasher.

“No. But it can never happen again.”

You want it to,
a voice inside him whispered.
You want it to happen again and again and again.

He told the voice to shut the fuck up. It was just his deprived dick talking, anyway.

“If we weren’t roommates, would you feel differently?”

“No. I’m not the kind of guy you need.”

“What kind of guy do you think I need, Zeke?”

“Someone…”

She turned to face him. “Someone … what?”

“Someone other than me. I’m not the right man for you.”

She stared at him, her face unreadable. “It sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

A lot of thought? It’s all I’ve been able to think about.

“I have,” he confirmed. “I know we can move past this.”

He couldn’t lose her. She was the best roommate he’d ever had. And somehow, she’d become his best friend, too.

He told Margo things that he’d never told anyone else. There had even been a few times when he’d been tempted to tell her about the IED attack and his leg. But he’d held back because he didn’t want her to pity him or see him as weak.

After several moments of silence, Margo finally said, “I don’t want this to ruin things between us, either.” She tilted her head toward the clock hanging beside the pantry door. “You’re going to be late for your softball game.”

He glanced at the clock before bringing his gaze back to her. “Are you still coming to the game?”

She hesitated. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The anger inside him flared. If last night hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have any qualms about coming. In fact, she would have bounced out of her room this morning, excited and eager to attend the game.

The teakettle whistled shrilly, and she turned off the burner with a flip of her wrist. He stood there, watching as she opened the little canister of tea she preferred in the morning.

“I’d like for you to come,” he said.

For some reason, his comment made her laugh. She mumbled something, but he couldn’t hear it.

“What?”

She popped the tea bag into her mug and lifted the kettle from the stove. “I just said, ‘Good luck.’”

“Thanks.” He tossed the remains of his snack in the trash and put the empty plate in the sink. “I’ll see you later.”

“Uh-huh.”

He left the apartment without another word. During the drive to Lindley Meadow, he thought about the conversation with Margo. She had agreed with him, and he should feel relieved. Instead, he felt like a black cloud had settled over him.

When he arrived at the softball field, most of his teammates were already there, including Cal and Jake. Over the past several weeks, he and the two men had become friends. He liked Cal’s raunchy, juvenile sense of humor and Jake’s win-some-lose-some attitude.

Zeke greeted everyone before directing them to the field to warm up. Today, the Rivets were playing a team with a truly cringe-worthy name: We Byte. Unsurprisingly, the players worked for a tech start-up.

Ten minutes before the game was scheduled to begin, Zeke called his teammates back to the bench and ran through the lineup. When he finished, he set his clipboard down on the bench and looked beyond the chain-link fence to the line of bleachers.

He scanned the crowd, but didn’t see Margo. Disappointment swamped him, making his shoulders slump.

“Looking for someone?”

Glancing sideways, Zeke found Cal standing next to him. “What?”

“Are you looking for someone?” Cal asked, tilting his head toward the bleachers.

“Yeah.”

The younger man focused on Zeke, his eyes shaded by a navy blue ball cap. “Who?”

“Margo.”

“Ah, the mysterious Margo.” Cal pursed his lips. “You talk about her all the time, but I’m beginning to think she’s a figment of your imagination.”

Jake joined their conversation. “What are we talking about?”

“Margo,” Cal answered. “I was questioning whether she really exists.”

“She exists,” Zeke snapped. “She’s just not here.”

After checking the field to make sure the umpires had arrived, Zeke clapped his hands together. “It’s go time, people!”

To Zeke’s surprise and consternation, We Byte was a formidable competitor. Despite Norah’s masterful pitches and the team’s excellent fielding, the score was tied at the top of the seventh and final inning.

The Rivets batted first, and Cal managed to score a single run, putting their team ahead. Then it was We Byte’s turn. With two outs, and two strikes, Norah tossed the pitch.

The batter got a piece of it, sending the ball into the infield between second and third base. As she took off, running for first base, Bohai jumped for the ball and missed.

From his position in the outfield, Zeke watched the batter pass second base and sprint for third base. With the ball heading his way, he had no choice but to try to field it.

Praying his prosthetic could handle it, he jogged backward, his eyes on the ball. When he realized it was slightly over his head, he jumped with his glove outstretched behind him.

The ball dropped into it just as he landed hard and fell backward onto the grass. He sat up and lifted his arm in victory.

A cacophony of cheers erupted. He pulled off his glove, and seconds later, his teammates surrounded him, shouting out congratulations.

In his peripheral vision, he glimpsed a long, pink tongue coming toward him. Before he could dodge it, the tongue landed on his face, sweeping across his cheek. As he pushed the dog’s snout away, he realized the slobbery lick had come from Roby.

His presence could mean only one thing: Margo was here. She had come to the game after all. Suddenly, the gloominess that had shadowed him disappeared.

“Nice catch,” Cal said, extending his hand to Zeke.

Once Zeke was on his feet, he immediately scoured the small group of people for Margo. It didn’t take long to find her.

She had changed into a gauzy shirt that was dark blue on top and lighter blue on the bottom, dark-washed skinny jeans that ended above her ankles, and a pair of beige flats. A floppy straw hat sat on her head, and a huge smile curved her mouth.

He headed straight for her, Roby loping alongside him. When he reached her, she stood on her tiptoes and threw her arms around his neck in a big hug.

Her floppy hat slapped his nose, and he pulled it off her head. A mass of strawberry-blond hair cascaded past her shoulders, releasing a sweet fragrance.