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But because I don’t really know for sure what trauma she endured, I don’t know how that’s changed her as a person.
I remember The Sheriff saying she’d never been taken vaginally, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t assaulted in other ways. Maybe those experiences have changed the way she views sex and intimacy.
There was a time I knew everything that turned her on. I knew her body better than she did, and I knew all of her deepest fantasies. She was so kinky, and took pleasure in things that a lot of girls may not have.
My biggest worry, in that moment, was that I would do something I knew she used to like, and it would be a trigger for her now. I would never want to hurt her—ever. So, if anything were to ever happen between us, we would need to have a pretty intense conversation beforehand.
As soon as my coffee is ready, I take my seat at the breakfast island and start sipping. It’s far too hot, and it burns my lips and tongue as I take my first sip, but I don’t care. Despite the scalding liquid, I find myself sighing with bliss as the caffeine hits my system.
I pull up the news headlines on my phone, just for something to read while I enjoy my drink. I only manage to get about halfway through my mug, and two articles, when I hear Teigan start moving upstairs.
Instantly, my heart is in my mouth. I have to decide if I’m going to abandon my drink, and the breakfast I was planning to make next, so I can run to the safety of my room, or whether I’m going to stay here and risk whatever mood she’s in.
I find myself listening to her footsteps, trying to work out if she’s stomping or walking like a normal person. She’s not as noisy as she has been recently, and none of the doors upstairs have slammed yet, so I decide to take the risk.
Well, my growling stomach makes the decision for me. I’m hungry, and I can’t keep letting her foul mood push me around in my own fucking safe house.
As soon as she steps into the kitchen, she freezes, and the tension in the room amplifies. Given the startled look on her face, I don’t think she was expecting me to be in here, which isn’t surprising given I’ve run away like a coward the last few mornings.
While she’s just standing there, it gives me a few seconds to take in her appearance. She’s wearing the shortest pair of grey booty shorts I’ve ever seen, her smooth long legs on full display. The matching grey vest top sits level with her belly button, meaning there’s a sliver of skin visible between the top and shorts.
Her top sweeps down low enough to give a great view of her ample cleavage, and given the way her pebbled nipples are poking through the thin fabric, I’d guess she’s not wearing a bra underneath. That knowledge alone makes my dick twitch, but the more I take in her perfect curves, the harder it gets.
When I finally drag my gaze up to her face, I hate the way she’s glaring at me. Her grey eyes are dark and lack the usual fire I’m used to seeing there.
She’s got large black circles under her eyes that look almost like bruises. Her creamy skin looks paler than normal, and it’s clear she’s exhausted.
When she pulls her pale pink lip in between her teeth, I find myself thinking about the feel of her mouth. When we kissed, I never got to nibble on her lip the way I used to, the way I know she likes. Now I have to watch her do it to herself out of anxiety, knowing I could be doing it to her in a way that brings her great pleasure.
Focus, Evan. Remember the plan to stay away from her sexy body, no matter how much it may kill you,I remind myself over and over in my head.
To say staying away from her is physically fucking painful is an understatement. My cock has been rock hard for the past week, even with her bratty behaviour.
I probably stare at her for a little too long, and I’m waiting for her to start yelling, or maybe today will be one of the passive aggressive days, where she insults me under her breath, like I can’t hear her calling me a douchecanoe.
Instead, when the fog clears, I realise she’s staring at me with just as much intensity. In fact, as I follow the trail of her eyes, it’s clear she’s staring at my exposed abs.
Even though we’ve worked out together numerous times, I’m always in a T-shirt of some sort. This is the first time she’s seen me without a shirt in a decade, and to say I look a little different would be a massive fucking understatement.
I’ve always worked out, and taken care of my body, but I was never as ripped or muscular as I am now. I never wanted to get too big, like a bodybuilder with massive veins bulging out of their muscles. But I’ve been using the gym as a way to distract myself from my problems for a while now, and as a result, I have the body that reflects how much effort I put in.
Now I’m starting to wonder if Tee nibbling on her lip is because she’s anxious, or she likes what she sees.
I don’t want to break the fragile truce we seem to have fallen into, but I also would like to try and make some progress with her today. I want us to get back to a more harmonious place, where I can walk around my own damn house without worrying she might randomly stab me, or yell at me.
“Can I get you a coffee?” I ask, in as polite a voice as I can manage. I even add a smile at the end, making a conscious effort not to look cocky in case that sets off her mood swing.
Her eyes flick up from my abs to meet my gaze, and as the skin around them tightens, I hold my breath, waiting for her tosnap. So imagine my surprise when she gives me a small smile in return, shrugging her shoulders as she takes a seat opposite me.
“Please.”
Without hesitation, I jump down from my stool and move over to the machine. I begin making her coffee the way I know she likes it. I can hear her tapping her fingers on the kitchen top, but if that’s the only annoying thing she does, I can live with it.
Once I’ve made her coffee the way she always has it, in her favourite mug, I turn and slide it over to her with a smile. Her eyes narrow suspiciously, but she mutters, “Thanks.”
As I take my seat again, I try not to look over at her. I know if I do, there’s more chance I’m going to end up pissing her off, and I don’t want that. It’s nice not having a headache so early in the morning, and I’d like to try and go all day without one. So instead, I focus on taking sips of my coffee, looking down at my phone instead of at Teigan.
The problem is, I’m just so aware of her. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her shuffling around, leaning her elbow onto the counter, and I want to watch her. I want to be able to look at her, to take in how fucking gorgeous she is when she’s just woken up and isn’t even trying.
