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Frowning, she puts a hand on her hip. “Who are you, and what did you do with the Zane Bradford I know?”
It’s a fair question, and it’s one I’ve been asking myself.
I don’t have an answer, so I grab a water bottle out of the fridge and start for the stairs. “Goodnight.”
She makes a noise like she’ll stop me, but I don’t give her the chance. I don’t want to talk to her anymore. I don’t want to look at her standing in my kitchen with her blonde hair hanging in crimped waves over her breasts.
I need to take a shower and get my head straight.
Standing under the spray, I brace a hand against the wall and all I can see is her sexy body moving to the music, her blonde hair swaying and that bikini top sliding to the side almost revealing a rosy nipple.
My cock hardens, and my hand lowers to cover it as I allow the images to flood my mind. Her soft body sitting on my lap, lifting her full breasts to my mouth…
How long has it been?Garrett’s question is in my ears. My hand slides over my tip, and I rest my forehead against my fist on the shower wall as my hips begin to rock. I imagine sliding my thumb along her jaw. I imagine tracing my tongue along the seam of her full lips. I imagine her bouncing as I fuck her, and I groan.
I picture turning her body so her back is to my chest, lifting her leg and sliding deep into her wet heat. I hear her voice as soft pants, desperate whimpers. I want my hands all over her, lifting, clutching, squeezing.
My hand moves faster, jerking as I picture it, up and over my tip. I can see our bodies rocking together, melting into one as her fingers thread in the side of my hair as she says my name.
“Fuck,” I groan as the orgasm grows tighter in my pelvis.
I’ve been living like a monk for too long, and no matter how I try to distance her, Rachel is a walking, breathing temptation.
My hips jerk, and my mind narrows. Her soft voice is in my ears, her hips twerk, igniting my brain, and with another pull, come shoots through my cock, spilling into the drain inlong streams. A shuddering moan quivers in my stomach, and my knees bend.
“Fuck, Rachel…” I shake my head, fumbling for control.What am I doing?
It takes a minute for me to recover, to rebuild the blasted wall I created to keep her out—along with everyone else.
I clean up myself and all evidence of what just happened in the shower. I grab a towel and dry myself before wrapping it around my waist and applying deodorant.
When I’m ready to emerge, I’m back to calm, controlled. I hope they’re all good and asleep. The last thing I want is to see her tonight.
I open the door slowly, peeking into the dim hall, when she appears so fast, I almost holler.
“Shit,” I hiss, taking a step back as she pushes through the door.
“It’s about damn time.” Her voice is low and sharp. “I know you’re used to having the upstairs to yourself, but all my stuff is in here, too.”
“I’m sorry.” I step out into the hall, feeling a little shook.
She only slams the door in my face.
Exhaling a breath, I look down at myself standing in the hall in only a towel, still recovering from that orgasm provoked by her. The shower starts, and I almost laugh at my dumb ass.
I totally deserved that. At least I got my deodorant.
I’m in my bedroom several minutes later when the bathroom door opens again. I’ve pulled on joggers and a long-sleeved tee, but I still need to brush my teeth. Rubbing my palm over my eyes, I want to wait until I’m sure she’s settled.
Walking over, I sit on the bed and pick up the book I’ve been reading.
A soft knock at the door draws my attention, and I look up to see her standing there in sage green sweatpants and a long-sleeved, thin T-shirt. Her hair is down and her face is freshly washed and has a shine like she put some sort-of cream on it.
She looks ready for bed.
She looks really fucking amazing.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m finished in the bathroom.” I can’t tell if she’s apologizing or simply being courteous.
