I Love You, My Neighbour: Chapter 24
I'm OK with a booty call
Logan
I get out of the small, cramped hatchback Jamie’s girlfriend drives and close the door behind me, looking through the open window at Gemma.
“Thanks for the lift, Gem.”
“Anytime, Logan.”
She's volunteered to play taxi service for the night so the guys and I can get drunk, play poker, and let loose. Tonight is the first real guys night Adam, Kyle, Jamie, and I have planned in a long, long time. With my move out of the way and most of the renovations on my house finished, we've all figured tonight would be a good night to take a break and just have some fun. Plus, I want to prove to myself that I can go a night without screwing my neighbour’s brains out.
“Tell Jamie I’m not playing poker with him again anytime soon. He robbed me, that cheater.”
Gemma laughs, makes a comment about bourbon clouding my usually sound judgement, then drives off.
The bourbon has impacted my poker playing skills, but truthfully, I've been distracted all night. Ever since Kristy agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits proposal I put forward two weeks ago, I haven't been able to stop thinking about my neighbour or what I want to do with her. I should be somewhat sated sexually since we've been hooking up like rabbits since Shark Bait. Yet I'm not.
After suppressing my libido for so long, it's come back with a vengeance. And the fact that Kristy seems as happy as I am to indulge in the perks of our new friends-with-benefits arrangement doesn't help one bit, either. She makes me feel like she can’t get enough of me. Every time I touch her, her desire is as uncontrollable as my own. Our lust for each other feels like a train that has broken away from the tracks and now can’t be stopped.
Being with her is quickly becoming an addiction, and I've started worrying that our arrangement is becoming far more than I ever intended it to be. We are, after all, spending every night together. That wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I suggested we become friends with benefits. Tonight, I've promised myself I won’t knock on Kristy’s door. I'm going to stay away from her. I can get through one night without her, can't I?
I turn around and look at our houses, nestled together. I already know she's home from her parent’s place because I looked for her car as soon as her house came into view. I also know she's still up because the lights are on.
It's past one in the morning and I can’t help wondering why she is still awake.
Do not knock on that door, Jacobs.
Fighting the urge to find out why Kristy is still up, I walk up to my front door and unlock it. My house is dark and unreasonably cold for the end of October. Worse still, the place feels…kind of foreign.
Before I move in, I spend nearly every waking minute at this house, fixing it up. But now I spend more time at Kristy’s than I do here. In the beginning, my reasons for staying at Kristy’s have more to do with the mess my new place is in after the move. But as I start to sort the place into some semblance of organised chaos, I begin to feel strange about having Kristy here. It probably has something to do with the fact that everything in this house reminds me of Izzy. Kristy has been over a few times over the past couple of weeks to help me unpack, and every time I see her surrounded by stuff that reminds me of Izzy, the entire situation seems wrong somehow. It's as though my past and my present are colliding and the results are a complete and utter mind-fuck.
Switching on a few lights, I start getting ready for bed. I've had a few – or more – bourbons so I'm not exactly quick on my feet, but I succeed in undressing myself, brushing my teeth, and drinking a litre of water – not exactly in that order – without falling down or injuring myself too badly. I switch off the lights once I'm ready, slide into bed and shut my eyes. Considering I'm exhausted and a little bit drunk, sleep should come easily.
It doesn't come at all.
I toss and turn, trying to find the right position to sleep in, but I just can't seem to get comfortable. The bed is too empty and too cold. I don't like the fact I can't smell Kristy’s soft perfume or shampoo right next to me. And I don't like the fact I can't listen to her breathing even out as she drifts off to sleep. And I hate the fact I can't feel her body tangled up with mine.
We always go to sleep in such a way that I can't work out where I end and she begins. And waking up with her is the same. This morning I was spooning her, her ample breasts spilling over the arm I had wrapped around her and her naked bottom pressed against my groin. She woke up ready for me and as soon as I had a condom on, we had lazy morning sex in that position before she had to get up to go to work.
Fatigue and alcohol should take the voice of my libido away for the night – but the memory of this morning has all the blood in my body rushing south.
Rolling onto my back, I groan with frustration and bang my head on my pillow repeatedly. First, the woman tries to ruin my waistline with her superb baking, and now she ruins my capacity to go without sex for twenty-four hours.
Throwing one arm behind my head, I stare up at the ceiling while sliding my other hand inside my boxers and wrapping my hand around my throbbing cock. There's no way I can fall asleep when I'm as hard as a fucking rock. I doubt even a cold shower would calm me down. It's been less than a day since I last blew my load, but I'm as backed up as someone who hasn't had sex for a month. I need to come so badly I'm in danger of developing blue balls.
A few nights ago, Kristy leapt on her bed, naked on all fours and looked at me over her shoulder, begging me to take her like that. It was one of the hottest damn moments of my life and I can’t stop thinking about it as I start moving my hand from the base of my shaft to the tip in smooth, long strokes. She’d been so wet and turned on that I was able to see her glistening arousal between her legs, and her body had been on the brink of an orgasm from the moment I thrust into her. I fondled her breasts and played with her clit as I took her with firm, deep strokes. The memory of her legs trembling as her tight pussy clamped down on me pushes me to the very edge. She'd sobbed my name, growing slicker and hotter from her climax.
I'm not able to hold back and my own climax hits me like a freight train, sending waves of pleasure through me as my heart beats wildly against my ribcage.
I lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath before cleaning up and trying to get comfortable again so I can try to fall asleep.
After tossing and turning for yet another twenty minutes, I'm ready to punch something out of frustration with myself. What are the chances Kristy is still awake? Because I'm seconds away from messaging her to find out if she'd let me in. Despite the fact I've promised myself I wouldn't, and despite the fact I might wake her up if I sent her a text at this time, I'm desperate for some shut-eye and I'm not going to fall asleep alone in my bed tonight. Besides, I've promised myself I wouldn't have sex with her tonight, not that I wouldn't fall asleep with her.
Convincing myself that I owe it to both Kristy and myself to find out if she's lying there awake like I am, I pick up the mobile phone sitting on my bedside table and send her a text:
Me: R U still awake?
I don't bother to put the phone back while I wait to see if she'll reply.
Three minutes later, no reply comes back. I'm about to give up and put the phone down when my phone lights up and I see she's answered. It says: 'I jus drifted of.'
Great, now I feel like a selfish prick. She's only just gone to sleep and I've woken her up.
I'm still debating whether I should respond when she calls me. I answer the phone straight away.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m so sorry for waking you up.”
“Is everything okay?” Her voice is sleepy, raw and husky. Even if she sounds sleep-affected, it's so good to hear her voice. I've missed it. I've missed her. Too much.
“It’s fine,” I tell her. “Seriously. Go back to sleep. I’m so sorry for disturbing you.”
Instead of hanging up, she asks sleepily, “How was poker?”
“I drank too much and lost more money than I should have.”
“Sounds like you had a great night then.” I can hear the smile buried in sleep-induced huskiness. “Shouldn’t you be trying to sleep off your imminent hangover? It’s really late, Logan.”
“I know. It’s just…I can’t seem to fall asleep. I’m not used to sleeping in this place.”
There's a slight pause and then I hear the words I've been dying to hear since I picked up my phone. “Do you want to come over?”
“I’ll be over in a second,” I tell her, hanging up and practically jumping out of bed.
I don't care if I sound as desperate as I feel. I'm over pretending I don't want to be in bed with her tonight. I put on a t-shirt, a pair of shorts and slip on thongs before grabbing my keys and bolting out the door. And after all that, I forget to lock up, so I have to go back.
Kristy has just turned the front light on as I walk up the steps of her porch. The moment I knock, she opens the door.
When I see her standing there in a short silk gown, her eyes blinking rapidly as they get used to the light, her long, wavy hair all over the place, I want to sweep her into my arms and kiss her until she knows how much I've missed her. She looks sleep rumpled but so freaking beautiful. The only thing that stops me is the fact we are supposed to be friends first. The benefits thing isn't supposed to be a given. And I've disturbed her sleep. I don't want her to think I've woken her up at this ridiculous hour for a booty call. I'm here as a friend – a friend who wants to sleep in her bed – but a friend nonetheless.
Cricket is by her side, thumping his tail against the doormat with enthusiasm for my presence. An unwelcome thought swishes through my mind: this is home – this is what home feels like. Which is just absurd. This is Kristy’s home. My home is next door. “Hey,” she says, giving me a shy, sleepy smile that nearly does me in.
Whenever she smiles, it lights up her face. She doesn't realize how beautiful she is. I've heard her make various comments over the weeks I've known her about how beautiful Jess is, and how beautiful Izzy is. She's even made a comment or two about how beautiful her friend Naomi is. It's as though she compares herself unfavourably to any attractive woman out there. I don't know why she does it, but it bothers me.
“Are you going to come in?” she asks.
She doesn't need to ask me twice. I move forward, resisting the urge to encircle her waist with my arms, pull her against me and kiss her. Because we are friends. Friends don’t greet each other like that. Instead, I dip my head and give her a kiss on the cheek before pulling back and looking into eyes that are full of confusion.
“I really did come here to sleep,” I tell her.
She nods and turns around quickly, leading me to her bedroom. Cricket trails behind us and takes his place on the doggy bed in the room while I walk around to my side of her bed and pull off my t-shirt.
The only light filling the room is the bedside lamp on her side, but in the dimly lit room I can still make out the way her eyes track my movements. Her eyes are wide and dark as they blaze down my naked chest, finally resting on my hands as they work to remove my shorts.
I can't stop myself from starting to rise to the occasion when she looks at me like that. As soon as I have my shorts off, I leap into bed and pull the covers over me before she can see the effect she has on me.
When I don't feel her slide into bed beside me straight away, I look up to see her fidgeting with the sash on her robe.
“I, ah, wasn't sure what I should wear to bed tonight,” she says. “You know, when you said you were coming over.”
My gaze collides with hers and I see the uncertainty in her eyes – nervousness that could only be put down to whatever it is she is wearing underneath her robe. Perhaps she's believed this is a booty call and she is naked underneath it. Usually, we sleep without any clothes on, but that is because we go to bed together and always have sex beforehand. This situation is entirely different. Though my heart is suddenly galloping and I'm starting to feel hot as I think about seeing her disrobe.
“This is your house,” I tell her huskily. “You can wear whatever you want to bed.”
I can’t look away as she undoes the knot of her sash, her hands shaking slightly. When she opens her robe, revealing the tiny white scrap of silk she's wearing, I swallow audibly, my cock surging against my boxers as I take in the outline of her pale brown areolas under it, as well as the thatch of neatly trimmed curls that reveal she isn't wearing underwear.
There is absolutely no way I'm going to be able to go to sleep next to her like that. Despite the fact I've jerked off less than an hour ago, I want her. Badly. I thought I needed a night without this, but being with Kristy is exactly what I need right now.
She slides into bed beside me, reaching out a hand to turn off the lamp, but I stop her before she can. I want to see her, to look at her.
“We can just go to sleep,” she says, rolling so that she's facing me. “If that’s what you want to do.”
The uncertainty she feels is written all over her face. I don't know whether she's been wearing that white slip before our phone call, but I doubt it. She's dressed for seduction because I didn't tell her my intentions when I called earlier and now there is no way I'm going to turn down her attempt to seduce me when it's worked as well as it has.
I trace my thumb over her cheekbone, her eyes wide and hopeful as they cling to mine.
“I want you,” I tell her. “I just don’t want you to think this is a booty call.”
“I’m okay with this being a booty call,” she tells me, before leaning in and pressing her lips to mine.
The first kiss is so hot, slow and so intense, it brings my body temperature to boiling. I think my heart is going to explode out of my chest as I roll her underneath me and deepen our kiss. I stroke her tongue with mine as I press my erection between her legs, revelling in the way her arousal coats my boxers.
When I pull away to catch my breath, I catch sight of the emotions swirling in her dark gaze.
“You taste like bourbon,” she whispers, before reaching up and dragging my mouth back to hers, as though she loves the taste of me and wants to get drunk.
With each slide of her tongue against mine and each shift of her hips, desire races through me along with something else that makes my heart expand and contract.
“I’ve been thinking about you. About this,” she whispers when I break our kiss.
“I’ve been thinking about this, too,” I tell her as I trail kisses over her face and the top of her chest. I've missed this. I've missed you.
I finger one of the straps of her slip. “Can we take this off?”
She nods and I help her out of it. The moment I have her lying naked underneath me, I proceed to brush my mouth over every inch of her exposed flesh, licking and nibbling my way down to her belly button before coming up to bite, lick and suck her breasts.
“Logan,” she whispers, her hands sliding through my hair.
Her legs fall open as I lightly tug on her breast with my lips.
“You’re so beautiful. So perfect,” I tell her, dragging my tongue down to her navel, circling her belly button and then sliding all the way between her legs.
With her hands firmly in my hair, I kiss her between her thighs, lick her and rub her clit with my tongue. Sliding my hands underneath her, so I can cup her buttocks and bring her closer to my mouth, I savour her until her body tenses and her hands yank my hair. And when she finally blows apart, I stay with her, revelling in the taste of her satisfaction and trying to ignore the pre-cum sliding down my cock.
When her thighs stop shaking and she releases her grip on my hair, I kiss my way back up her body before sliding off my boxers. I'm just about to go ferreting through her top drawer, looking for the condoms we stashed there a few days ago, when she stops me with her hand on mine.
“Logan, I’m clean and I’m safe. I’m on the pill. We don’t need a condom. Unless you want to use one.”
Of course, I don’t want to use a condom, but I've never gone bareback with anyone except Izzy.
As Kristy’s eyes lock with mine, searching out my response, I find myself giving into the ultimate desire to feel her in every way. Moving into position, I nearly gasp at the feel of her slick center against my swollen head. Her hands grip my hips, urging me to fill her, and I do in one smooth motion that causes Kristy to climax again. There's nothing between us this time to dull the impact of her pulsating around me, her moans of appreciation echoing through me like a primal cheer. Watching her as she comes, feeling her clutch at me, lost to her pleasure, makes my heart do that expand and contract thing again. Once she starts coming down from her high, she kisses my neck, my chest, my face, her hands running over my body as I start to rock my hips back and forth.
I'm already ridiculously close to nirvana, despite the fact I've taken the edge off earlier. But this time I want us both to go over together. I'm pretty sure that if I hold in there I could get Kristy to go three for three. Reaching around with both hands, I clasp her ankles gently and lift them, placing her feet on my buttock so I can stimulate her all over again while I continue to thrust.
“Oh, yes! Logan!”
“That’s it, baby. Come for me again.”
It doesn’t take long before I'm watching her come undone all over again. This time, when I feel her start to climax, I don’t hold back. My strokes become harder and faster. Pride, satisfaction, relief and pleasure roll through me as her body milks mine, her cries of pleasure prolonging the sensations and aftershocks I feel as I empty myself into her.
Finally, I feel sated and sleepy. Well, I do until my gaze collides with Kristy’s. The intense feelings and emotions shimmering in her eyes leave me frozen, terror clawing at my chest as I take in the reverent way she's looking at me.
No. What is happening between me and Kristy isn't supposed to be like this. It isn't supposed to look like this. It isn't supposed to be…more.
She turns her head to the side as if to try and hide what she's feeling, but it's too late for that. I've seen it. I've seen the proof that this thing between us has become more than we'd agreed to. More than I want.
And I'm not prepared for more. More is something I want no part of. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“I need to go clean up,” she tells me as I withdraw from her.
Her legs are shaking slightly as she walks out of the bedroom. I sit on her bed after putting my boxers back on, rubbing at the sudden throb attacking my temples.
This is my fault. I have to take at least some responsibility for this. Even if I have told Kristy I don’t want a relationship and she'd agreed to that, we've spent every night over the past two weeks together. I've left my home tonight at some ridiculous hour to come over here and sleep. Except as soon as I saw her, I wanted to be with her. And tonight what we've been doing together feels a lot less like sex and a whole lot more like making love.
Is it any wonder she's confused? Hell, I'm confused. Can't I go a night without crawling into her bed? What am I thinking?
Now things are a mess, but I have to do my best to untangle things before this whole situation gets further out of hand.
The thought of suggesting we stick to being friends and take the sexual component out of our relationship is something I don’t want to do. But I have to. I can’t let this arrangement go on. Not when Kristy is very clearly feeling things I don’t want her to or ask her to. And not when I too am in danger of feeling things I don’t want to feel again.
This arrangement has to end. No matter how much I like her and I like being with her, and no matter how much easier and better it is to be with her than be without her, I have to cool it between us.
“You ready for sleep now?” she asks as she walks back into the room, a wobbly smile on her face.
I study her, wondering if she knows what is coming. The sadness in her eyes is like a bullet through my heart. I don’t want to hurt her. I really don’t, especially after what we've just done tonight. But it's better to get this over and done with, isn't it?
“Kristy-”
“Logan, I’m really tired. Please, can we go to sleep now? We can talk in the morning.”
Her eyes plead with me and I find myself nodding. I’ve woken her up at a ridiculous hour and come over telling her this wasn't a booty call. I’m not going to walk out now if she doesn't want me to. We'll have to talk in the morning, but I am certain from the way she's looking at me that she knows that – that she knows exactly what is coming.
“Okay. I don’t suppose you have Panadol?”
The thought of having the conversation we need to is making me feel sick and the throb at my temples is worsening.
“I’ll get you some.”
After popping the pills Kristy hands me and swallowing some water, I crawl into bed with her. Unlike other times we've gone to bed together, it's awkward trying to find a position to go to sleep in. Eventually, we find one – my arms around her and her body curled into mine, her cheek pressed against my chest. When she presses closer to me, I stroke her hair and try not to think about the fact this will be the last night we sleep together.
It takes me a long time to drift off. And when I do finally sleep, my dreams are troubled. In one dream, I am standing on the grass at the end of the world. Floating above the earth, just out of reach, is Izzy. She looks like an angel, dressed in a white wraparound gown, her soft hair floating in the air all around her. I keep trying to get closer to her, but I can't step out into thin air and she keeps moving farther and farther away.
“Izzy, come back,” I beg her.
“I’m trying,” she whispers. “But you’re letting me go.”
That's when I look down at my hand and realize I've been holding her hand. I've been holding her there, but now I've let her go.