Free Web NovelChapter 175: Chapter 175 - In The Bed (R)
"Basically," Marybeth said, lowering her voice, "I’m telling you to seduce him."
Iyisha looked at her.
Marybeth grinned.
"One thing I know about Malcolm," she continued, leaning forward slightly, "is that he’s always looked at you with lust."
Iyisha frowned immediately.
"No, he doesn’t."
"And you look at him the same way."
"No I don’t," Iyisha said quickly.
Marybeth laughed under her breath.
"I’m just saying."
She leaned back and took another bite of food before continuing.
"That ERF order was almost ten pages long."
Iyisha glanced at her.
"It also listed last names."
Iyisha stiffened.
"They identified names?" she asked.
Marybeth nodded.
"Looks like it."
Iyisha stared at the table for a moment, thinking.
"So it’s genetic," she murmured. "Something in the DNA."
Marybeth shrugged but nodded thoughtfully.
"Could be."
She tapped the table lightly with her fingers.
"Why else would they include specific last names to watch for?"
Iyisha exhaled quietly.
"Well... it’s not like our names are on it."
Marybeth leaned back in her chair.
"I wouldn’t mind being immune," she said with a small sigh.
Then she looked at Iyisha.
Iyisha gave a faint nod.
"When can we leave?" Iyisha asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable sitting around any longer.
"Whenever you want," Marybeth said, glancing around the courtyard. "I think Malcolm’s just waiting for you to get better."
Iyisha nodded slowly.
"You’re staying here then?" she asked.
Marybeth snorted.
"No way."
She leaned back in her chair.
"I can’t stay here."
She gestured between them.
"I’m coming with the two of you if you’ll have me."
Iyisha nodded.
"Of course."
Her gaze drifted back across the courtyard.
Then she froze.
Lucía had shifted even closer to Malcolm. Her entire side was pressed against his arm now while she talked, her body leaning into him like she belonged there.
Iyisha inhaled sharply.
Oh.
She knew exactly what Lucía was doing.
Using that body to seduce him.
Wow.
Iyisha couldn’t believe it.
She had never done that with Malcolm. Not for lack of chances. Not for lack of wanting.
She had never pushed herself that close because she knew Malcolm found that kind of thing uncomfortable.
Apparently not.
Maybe it was only uncomfortable when it was her.
Iyisha suddenly pushed her chair back.
"I’m going first," she said.
She stood and started walking back toward the house.
Behind her, Marybeth chuckled quietly.
She had seen exactly what had set Iyisha off.
A few minutes later Iyisha was already in bed, freshly showered.
The cool sheets helped calm her down a little, but the irritation still lingered in her chest.
The door opened quietly.
Malcolm stepped inside.
Her irritation immediately climbed back up.
He didn’t say anything. He just grabbed his clothes and went straight to the bathroom.
A moment later the shower started.
Iyisha stared at the wall.
Good.
She thought bitterly.
Wash away the smell of that woman.
The thought made her wince.
God, she sounded ridiculous.
She turned on her side and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep before he finished.
But sleep didn’t come.
She was still wide awake when the shower stopped.
The bathroom door opened quietly.
Malcolm moved around the room in silence before the bed dipped slightly beside her.
Iyisha kept her eyes closed, pretending to sleep.
Fortunately, her body was still exhausted from everything it had been through.
Sleep finally pulled her under.
She woke sometime in the middle of the night, disoriented. The room was swallowed in darkness except for the faint amber bleed from the bedside lamp. Heat pressed against her back. Solid. Living.
Malcolm.
His body molded to hers, chest rising and falling in the slow, heavy rhythm of deep sleep. His arm lay draped loosely around her waist, forearm warm across her stomach. His breath ghosted soft and steady against the shell of her ear.
Iyisha let out a quiet sigh.
Almost inaudible.
She tried to anchor herself in that rhythm, to let it pull her back under.
Malcolm slept like the dead behind her. Exhausted. Heavy. Trusting.
She should shove him away. Reclaim the cold space on her side of the bed.
But she didn’t.
It wasn’t hurting anyone.
Then she felt it.
The thick, rigid length of him pressed against the small of her back. Hot even through the thin cotton of his pants. Fully erect.
Her breath caught.
For a second she lay perfectly still.
Lucía’s laugh flashed through her head again. The way the woman leaned into him at dinner. The way he didn’t move away.
She should roll forward. Put space between them.
She didn’t.
The irritation was still there, simmering low in her chest.
But her body didn’t care.
Heat bloomed slowly between her thighs, liquid and spreading. Her nipples tightened beneath the soft cotton of her shirt, aching.
Malcolm shifted once in his sleep.
His arm slid higher.
His broad palm settled over her breast.
Fingers loose.
Possessive.
The rough pad of his thumb grazed the sensitive underside of her nipple.
Accidental.
Iyisha bit her lip hard enough to taste copper, swallowing the sound clawing up her throat.
She squeezed her thighs together.
It only made it worse.
Wetness slicked between them, hot and insistent. Her hips rolled back the smallest amount. Barely movement.
Just enough.
His cock twitched hard against her in answer.
She turned her head slightly, catching his face in the low lamp glow. Slack with sleep. Lips parted. Dark lashes resting against his cheeks.
Something tight twisted in her chest.
God.
She was exhausted.
But she was burning alive.
Another shift.
This time deliberate.
She pressed back harder, dragging the curve of her ass slowly along his length.
He exhaled rough and low in his sleep.
His hips jerked forward instinctively.
A low sound caught in his throat.
For a second his body went tense behind her, like something inside him was trying to wake up. Trying to stop this before it went too far.
But the moment passed.
His arm only tightened around her waist.
The head of him nudged between her cheeks, catching at the damp heat of her entrance through the barrier of fabric.
Her breath broke in a shaky exhale.
Her fingers trembled as she reached back, catching his wrist. She guided his hand higher, pressing his palm firmly over her breast.
Forcing the touch.
Forcing him to cup her the way she needed.
She molded his fingers around the soft weight, arching into him, guiding his thumb and forefinger to close around her nipple.
Slow pressure.
A gentle tug.
Exactly how she liked it when she was alone.
A soft moan slipped out before she could stop it.
His breathing changed.
Still deep.
But rougher now.
His cock throbbed harder against her ass. Warm dampness spread across the front of his boxers.
Iyisha slid her free hand between her thighs.
She was drenched.
Her clit throbbed beneath her fingertips as she circled it slowly, matching the lazy grind of her hips. Each backward press nudged the head of him closer, catching again and again at her entrance without slipping inside.
She bit the inside of her cheek to stay quiet.
But the sounds escaped anyway.
Small, needy whimpers.
The faint wet glide of her fingers.
The rustle of sheets.
Malcolm groaned low in his throat.
His arm tightened around her waist on instinct.
Come on. Control yourself.
She froze when his thumb flicked.
This time deliberate.
"Are you fucking awake?" she hissed, twisting to look at him.
His eyes opened.
Heavy. Half-lidded. Dark with sleep and something deeper.
Heat rushed to her face.
Embarrassment.
Anger.
Humiliation.
How dare he kept on pretending to sleep?
She shoved at his chest.
"How dare you," she snapped.
Malcolm exhaled slowly through his nose.
He sat up without a word, the mattress shifting under his weight. He reached for his shirt on the floor.
Her teeth ground together. "Where the hell are you going?"
He finally looked at her. "Going to cool off."
Her mind flashed immediately to Lucía.
"No you’re fucking not."
Malcolm stiffened.
Iyisha glared at him.
"Come back to bed."
The words came out sharper than she intended.
He paused like he was deciding whether the fight was worth it.
Malcolm dragged a hand across his face before laying down.
Careful this time not to touch her.
She noticed immediately.
He hadn’t taken the shirt earlier when he tried to leave.
As if he planned to slip out the second she fell asleep.
The thought made her see red.
She sat up, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and yanked it over his head in one rough motion.
He let her.
Didn’t resist.
Didn’t speak.
Just watched her with that quiet, unreadable stare.
She wasn’t finished.
She shoved his pants down his thighs in one impatient tug.
Malcolm only sighed again.
That sigh snapped something inside her.
"What?" she demanded. "You still planning to go outside? To her?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Malcolm’s gaze dropped for a moment then he looked back at her.
"What’s going on with you, Iyisha?"
Her eyes burned.
Hot.
Wet.
She knew they weren’t anything official.
But this felt like disregard.
Like she meant nothing.
"You know what’s going on with me," she muttered, kneeling beside him, hands fisting the sheets."You know exactly what’s going on. And you’re acting like some stupid man who can’t do a damn thing about it won’t help."
Another quiet sigh.
She threw her hands up.
"You’re right. I’m crazy. Completely fucking unhinged for thinking you’d give a shit."
Malcolm reached out then.
He caught her wrist.
Just enough to stop her.
"I’m here," he said quietly.
The first real words he’d spoken since the shower.
Her throat tightened.
She wanted to believe him.
Wanted to scream at him.
Wanted to climb on top of him and burn every ounce of anger and need out of her system.
Instead she just stared at him.
The room felt smaller.
Hotter.
And neither of them moved away.
