Page 11 of The Rut in the Road

I couldn’t speak, but I nodded, fingers tightening around him.

He slid one finger past his lips, a low growl vibrating through his chest, muscles of his legs clenching as he pushed into my hand. His eyes closed as he sucked my cum off his finger, and watching him do it had me half-hard again, but then his whole body twitched, and he made a sound that sounded almost pained, his cock in my hand so hard it almost seemed as though it had stopped being flesh—and then it throbbed against my fingers, hot cum pumping out of him as he sucked in lungfuls of air, his free hand gripping his own thigh.

“Fuck,” he breathed, still kneeling between my splayed legs, his back bent and head hanging down. “Fuck,” he repeated.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Whether he was upset or?—

“Rayn?” he asked, and I looked up at him, his gold-brown eyes a little more normal, his brow creased with worry.

“Raj?” I countered.

He reached out, and when I didn’t flinch, ran a warm hand down the inside of my thigh. “You okay?” he asked.

I frowned back up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.

He grabbed my hand—the one not coated in his cum—and lifted my fingers to his lips. “I was… needy,” he said softly.

“So was I,” I countered.

“I just wanted to make sure?—”

I sighed. “I wanted it,” I said, a little annoyed, although I hoped I kept it out of my voice. “I wanted you. Iwantyou.”

He swallowed, studying me as though trying to determine whether or not I was telling him the truth. “If you ever don’t…” he said.

I snorted. “I’ll let you know.”

He pushed himself up, hesitating a moment before walking out of the bedroom. I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing, although I was pretty sure that he wasn’t about to leave, since I hadn’t put his clothes in the dryer. I should do that.

I got up, grimacing at my one sticky hand and at the mess on my thighs that had come from both of us. I stood and was about to walk to the laundry when Raj came back, a washcloth in one hand.

“I—I was going to clean you up,” he said softly.

“Oh,” I said, feeling suddenly foolish. And warm in my belly. “I—was going to put your clothes in the dryer.” I looked down at my hand. “After I washed my hands.”

“I can do that,” he said, stepping closer and using the washcloth—which was warm—to clean off my fingers. “If you want to make sure they’re clean in the morning.” There was something slightly guarded to his tone.

I’d said something wrong. I wasn’t sure what, exactly. Maybe doing his laundry implied I wanted him to leave right away?

“I don’t want them to mildew,” I told him. “But you can stay in my sweatpants all day tomorrow, if you want.”

The tenseness in his body immediately relaxed. He’d thought I wanted him to leave. “I’ll move them,” he said, and this time his tone was soft, warm. “You clean up, and then we can try to get a little more sleep. Okay?”

I smiled at him. “Okay.”

Neither one of us bothered putting the sweatpants back on when he crawled back into bed, wrapping his big, warm body around mine. He breathed in my hair, his lungs inflating against my back, as the sky just began to shift toward dawn.

“The sun’s coming up,” I said softly.

He hummed a little against my hair. “You’re all I need,mera ravi,” he said softly, the words a little mumbled.

“What’s…mera ravi?” I asked.

“It’s Hindi,” he murmured, his voice starting to sound heavy with sleep. “My sunshine.”

3

She touchedthe stone with her fingertips, knowing how much Mother would have hated the fact that she wasn’t wearing formal gloves.