“Making love with you is like grabbing a shooting star; you just pray you don’t burn alive before you come back to earth.”
She expected him to laugh at her. She had felt silly saying the words even as they were coming from her lips, but she wanted Dalton to know that he was different from the other men she had been with before him.
Reaching out, he combed his fingers through her tumbled hair. “You’re like a shooting star yourself.”
“Really?”
“Shooting stars are unique, and I’ve never met anyone else like you. You’re one in a million.”
Her fingers stopped tracing the tattoo on his side as she remembered the advice Sex Piston had given her.
“Are you hungry for breakfast?” Sitting up, she started to climb over him.
“No, I thought I’d give you another chance at catching a shooting star.”
She climbed him so fast she nearly tumbled headlong off the bed. Righting herself, she grabbed his hand and tried to tug him out of bed.
“You know, now that you mention it, I’m not hungry either. I’ll fix us some lunch later.”
“Then why are you trying to get me up?”
Exasperated, she pulled harder on the arm of the man who refused to be nudged.
“Because I want to catch this shooting star in the living room.”
28
Dalton woke with his mouth so dry, he could chug a gallon of water if it was within his reach. Seeing that it wasn’t, he managed to get out of bed without waking T.A.
Looking around the room, he spotted his jeans and walked the few steps to get them while the muscles in his legs protested. He had to grit his teeth to bend to get his pants, and he was in a cold sweat putting them on. He wasn’t man enough to go through the agony of buttoning them.
Forcing his feet forward, he slowly made his way to the doorway. It practically took an act of God to get his feet moving after he took a brief rest. Snapping the bedroom door closed, fearful of waking her, he held on to the wall as he made his way into the kitchen.
His hand shook as he took a glass and went to the sink, where he filled it and drank the water before he went to the fridge. Taking the juice bottle out, he refilled the glass. He closed the fridge with his shoulder and went to the counter to sit. It took him two glasses of juice and another glass of water to make him feel as if he wouldn’t pass out. Refilling the glass with water one more time, he sat back down at the counter to bury his hands in his face.
The woman had almost killed him. Every muscle and bone in his body hurt. T.A had nearly fucked him to death, and if she woke up before he was recovered, she might just succeed. There wasn’t a spot in her apartment they hadn’t fucked on. Except the bed. She seemed to have developed an aversion after the first time, and as much as he tried to convince her to, she discovered another spot to entice him to have sex with her.
His ass and back had rug burn so bad he almost couldn’t fall asleep, and his poor dick wasn’t any better off either. Any delusions he had the body of a younger man had been blown to smithereens. He would run away before she woke up, but he doubted he would even make it down the flight of steps to get to his car.
A knock at the door had him nearly falling off the stool. He calmed down when he realized it wasn’t T.A. and went to the peephole to see Al.
He was tempted to ignore the knock, but he was afraid the loud noise would wake T.A.
Opening the door a crack, he kept his body behind it and only let one eye peek out.
“What?”
“I need to see T.A.”
“She’s sleeping. Come back later.” Before he could close the door, Al shoved a foot in the crack.
“Wake her up. I need my bread.”
Seeing that her obnoxious neighbor wasn’t going anywhere without the bread, Dalton gave up and let him inside.
He went into the kitchen as Al came inside and closed the door. He sent a worried glance down the hall toward her bedroom, then relaxed when he didn’t hear any movement.
“I don’t have all day. I want to order a pizza.”
Dalton didn’t care; he just wanted him gone before he woke T.A. up. If he was lucky, he would regain his strength and be gone before she woke.
Reaching in the cabinet, he took out a full loaf of bread and laid it on the counter. He expected Al to take it and go.
“What in the fuck is that?”
Confused, he stared at the loaf. Had T.A. fucked his scrambled brain so bad that he couldn’t recognize it? “Bread.” Considering calling an ambulance for himself at the possibility that he could be having a stroke, he stared in shock when Al smashed his hand down on the bread.