Chapter 16: Tirone: Chapter 16

A Few Months Ago

My fingertips drew aimless shapes on Jo’s shoulders and back as she lay in her bed—our bed for the past week—curled in my arms. Her breath hadn’t gained the slow, steady rhythm of sleep yet.

“Tell me what you like,” I said.

She stirred. “In?”

“Bed,” I answered blatantly. I’d been studying her details for the past week like she was a hard test I had to pass, and I couldn’t figure out that chapter yet.

Even in the pitch black room, I could imagine the incredulous look on her face and the accompanying glare as she rolled out of my embrace and sat on the bed. “That’s none of your business and completely inappropriate.”

“Don’t use that word with me again, Miss Meneceo. We’re way past inappropriate.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and tugged her back into my embrace. She resisted at first, but I managed to bring her back to me like I always did.

She relaxed a bit. “It’s still none of your business.”

“I beg to differ. I’d like very much to make it my business.”

“Tirone, we agreed—”

“I know so much about you already. What’s another secret to the long list I have?”

She stiffened in my arms and abruptly became cold. “What secrets? What do you know?”

This wasn’t an angry reaction to a possible privacy violation. That was sudden panic and it alarmed me. What kind of secret could a twenty-three-year-old high school teacher have that its exposure freaked the shit out of her that much?

“All the important things. Your favorite breakfast is grilled cheese and jelly toast, which is ewww, by the way, but I’d make it for you every day if you’d like. You like scrambled eggs, but they have to be hard cooked or you won’t touch them. Again, ewww. They taste like rubber, but for you, I’ll pretend I like them and eat them with you with a grin on my face. You never drink black coffee or any of the fancy franchise orders. Two sugar, one cream. Very simple and to the point.

“I know the books you like to read during the day,” I leaned in for a whisper, “and the smut you read at night. I went through your kindle and saw all the highlights.”

“What? You went through my kindle? That’s worse than going through my underwear drawer.”

“Does that mean you’re not mad I went through your underwear drawer?”

“You did what?”

“How else can I know what your favorite color is? It’s red. You have quite the collection of underwear and lingerie to prove it. You never wear the color outside, though. You think it’s too hot to wear in class, which is the only place you ever go to. But you stopped wearing it at home. I’m guessing it’s because of me.”

The sound of her breath grew louder, confirming my speculations. “How did I not notice you went through my clothes? Everything is exactly the same way I left it.”

“I’m a little OCD.” More than a little. “I memorized everything and made sure everything was back in place. But that’s beside the point. I think you’ll look sensationally hot in red,” I whispered, “but you don’t need to wear any special color to make me hot for you, Jo. You know I already am. You physically feel it every single night.”

She cleared her throat. “What else do you know?”

The bed squeaked under me as I propped my elbow on the pillow and shifted so she could feel my growing erection without a doubt. “That you sleep like a baby in my arms. It makes me so happy, like I’ve accomplished a huge achievement. But you talk in your sleep—”

“What did I say?” Again with that panic. What are you so afraid of, Jo?

“It’s not something coherent. It’s more of protesting sobs, which breaks my heart. I want to wake you to stop you from crying in your sleep, but I’m so scared you won’t be able to rest again. I just hold you tighter, trying to sing for you like a baby.” I chuckled. “Do you know that sometimes I swear you’re speaking Gaelic in your sleep, especially when you start calling for your mam.”

“I…I…” she stammered, her breath, too. “What else is on your list?”

With a sigh, I swiped my thumb across her lips. “I know the way you taste…and I know the way you…”

She tensed. “The way I what?”

She wasn’t going to like it, but I’d tell her anyway. My thumb slid down to her chin and drew a slow, straight line from her throat to the top of her mound. Trembling, she caught my hand before I went lower. “What are you doing?” she rasped. “What did you do in my sleep?”

“I just wanted to know the way you smelled.”

She gasped. “How could you?”

“How could I find the strength to stop myself from doing anything else other than smelling your pussy? I don’t know, but it’s been hard as fuck.”

She jumped out of the bed. Then the silhouette of her head shook in the dark. “This is sick. Too sick to handle. You must leave and never come back.”

“Is that how you repay me for helping you sleep all these nights? For being honest now? I could have just lied to you.”

“You’re… You can’t touch me without my consent, Tirone. End of story.”

“I didn’t touch you. I didn’t do anything.”

“You smelled my vagina!”

“It’s a totally different sense.”

“Oh my God.”

“What difference does it make if I do it now or when I turn eighteen? It’s only five weeks. Why can you not just give me a little something to help me wait? I’m dying here, Jo. You don’t know how much it’s taking me to stop myself from acting on my fantasies with you.”

“More reason for you to go.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come back to sleep, baby.”

“Not before you leave.”

“C’mon, Jo. We can argue all night, but you know I’m not leaving no matter what. Then the side of me you don’t seem to like will pop out against my will, because I can’t control it when it comes to not having you. I don’t want to make you upset, so please, just save us both the trouble and come back to bed.”

“How do you expect me to sleep next to you after I knew what you did to me?”

“Jesus Christ. All right, baby. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t touch or smell you in your sleep again…even though somnophilia is one of your favorite smutty kinks.”

“It’s a book, Tirone. Fictional! It doesn’t mean I want what’s written in it to be done to me in real life.”

“That’s why I’m asking you what you like in bed, but you’re not answering.”

She blew out a rapid sigh.

“You’re leaving me no choice but to rely on your kindle, baby. So tell me, and be honest like I am with you, deep down, do you think it’s hot if I touch you in your sleep or not?”

Another sigh. Long and staggering, though.

“Now, I have one more thing to add to the list.”