Recovery by Nicole Dykes (top 5 books to read .txt) 📕

“Shit.”

He just laughs and hands off the drink to the waitress. “You’re an adult, Mya. So is he. It doesn't fucking matter if you guys had sex, at least not to us.”

“Us? So James knows?”

Again, he shoots me a glance, and I wave him off.

“Of course he does.”

“No secrets with us. That’s the rule, but it doesn't matter.”

“I just don’t want everyone talking about it.”

“Why? Was it bad?” He fake cringes, and I roll my eyes, laughing.

“No. It wasn’t bad. I just don’t like the idea of everyone knowing.”

A loud woman pushes her way to the bar and plops down, ordering a drink from Tommy loudly. He busies himself making it but still focuses on me. “Look, as long as you both are okay with your choices, it doesn’t matter. Enjoy.”

“And if I hurt him?”

His eyes darken, and I can’t stop the smile from spreading on my face because he obviously cares about Jase. “Don’t.”

“What if I can’t help it? Everything I touch turns to shit.”

He shakes his head, handing the woman her drink and accepting her fifty cent tip with a smile. “Jase is strong.”

“You said you’re worried about him getting hurt.”

“I am. I don’t want to see any of my friends getting hurt, you included.” He sighs, “But he’s a big boy. You tell him you don’t want a relationship, that you’re leaving as soon as you can, and he still fucks you. Then it’s just as much on him.”

I nod my head, knowing that sounds logical, but in the back of my mind, I’m more afraid about myself.

And I think Tommy knows it.

“What if I get attached?” My question is a quiet whisper that makes him smile at me sadly.

“Worse things have happened.”

It’s not an option for me. I have to remind myself of that.

I cannot fall for him.

When I get home from work, all I can think about is Jase. Jase’s body. Jase’s smile. Jase’s cock. His tongue.

It’s annoying.

I can’t stop it. I just want another taste. More moments of euphoria where I'm not thinking about loss and grief.

Tommy’s right. He’s a big boy, and I don’t believe he’s simple. He knows what he wants. He can handle a physical relationship.

I’ve told him I'm leaving.

He worked close to the same hours as me today, so he should be home. I walk to his room. The loft is quiet, and I peek in, seeing it’s empty. I decide to wait for him on his bed, letting him know exactly what I'm here for.

Time passes, and it starts to get dark outside. Where the hell is he? And what am I still doing here? Just waiting for a guy to come home and fuck me?

I'm losing it.

I climb off the bed and walk to the shelf, my fingers drifting over the trophies. He really was a superstar. These aren’t participation trophies. They’re state and national championships.

Why doesn’t he want to talk about it?

Seems to me he has a lot to be proud of.

“Mya?” Shit. Of course, now he comes home.

I turn to face him, caught red-handed snooping. “Hi.”

He eyes me with suspicion but doesn’t seem pissed. “What’s up?”

“I um . . .” I walk toward him and away from the shelf I was just inspecting. “I . . .” Great job, Mya.

His lips lift in a cocky grin. “You’re here for more, huh?”

“I don’t want a relationship.”

He nods his head knowingly and kicks his tennis shoes off, tugging his socks off right after. “Okay.”

“I mean it. I can’t . . .”

He lifts his shirt off, and I’m struck stupid staring at his ab muscles with beautiful ink covering parts of him.

“Who did your tattoos?”

He laughs, pushing his jeans down along with his underwear, leaving him in all his naked glory, completely confident and unashamed. “Why are you still dressed?”

I smile, nerves starting to get to me. I liked having sex with him. Okay . . . I fucking loved it. But the way he held me? I think I liked that even more, which is so incredibly dangerous.

That pulls a sexy, hearty laugh from him, and I cross my arms, again consider smothering him with a pillow. He stalks toward me, and I suck in a deep breath. “Don’t worry, just let go.”

I think about his words the first time we had sex, when he told me to let go. and I let my body relax, finding an unimaginable orgasm waiting for me. My body tingles, thinking about that. “We’re both adults.”

He nods his head, his finger running over the wide collar of my shirt “We are, and I’ll admit, after . . .” I watch his throat move as he swallows, worry in his eyes, “the other night, I was worried that maybe I took advantage of someone dealing with crippling grief.”

I stiffen, and his finger traces my bottom lip. “I’m not a victim.”

His hand cups my face. “I know that. You’re strong, and I sensed that from day one.” His eyes are intense. “So again, why are you still dressed?”

I lean into him, my hand resting on his bare chest as I kiss him, possessing him with my mouth and letting his claim mine in return, both of us struggling for control. I’m the one who lands on the bed, pulling his body on top of mine. I just want him, and before I know it, he’s inside me.

We both gasp as our mouths tangle, and he presses fully inside me. “Fuuuck.” His moan is primal and sexy as hell.

“I should get a condom.”

He should.

I don’t want him to. “I’m on birth control, and I’d say the damage is done if you’re a dirty fucker.”

His hand gently tugs my hair so my eyes meet his. “I’m clean.”

“Good.” I lean up and capture his bottom lip with mine. “Because I’d have to kill you, and I kind of like you.”

His smirk is lazy and effortless as he leans down, nipping on my neck and thrusting deeper, making my hips buck against him, taking every bit of punishment his cock has to offer.

My hands grasp his firm ass,