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His hood is pulled up over his hair, but he can’t hide the curls that frame those deep brown eyes. He’s got a pair of earbuds in, the cord disappearing into his hoodie pocket.
As the first ray of sunlight touches his face, Shiloh’s eyes shut, and he tips his head back as his chest expands.
I barely knew him before those boys stole the child-like spark that used to light up his eyes. Even so, his essence caught my attention all over campus. We never ran in the same circles, but somehow if he was there, I was drawn to him. I wanted to bottle that innocence and show it wonders like it’d never seen—but I wanted to be able to feed it back, reawaken that unbridled happiness.
Now there’s so much darkness. So much anger and resentment. It must still exist within him. At least a piece of it. I wish I could draw it back out.
In this moment, I know the Shiloh that sat in my lap and kissed me full of giggles from a stupid dare—I know he’s still in there.
When his eyes open, they land on me almost immediately.
Part of me wants to think that something inside him was searching for me, could feel me, but I know that’s naivety talking. Wishful thinking. I seem to have a lot of that when it comes to him.
The emotions that play over his face aren’t for me to see, but I couldn’t look away if I wanted to.
Fear. Arousal. A bone-deep sadness that hits me in the chest.
And then he shakes his head, and his mask is firmly back in place. The tough, brat facade that he wears like an impenetrable armor. Like as long as he’s fighting, then he isn’t losing.
He bounds down the steps and makes his way over at a casual pace, stopping just past the sidewalk and onto the grass.
“What are you doing here?”
I throw an arm over the back of the bench, extenuating my relaxed posture so maybe he’ll drop the constant aggression and just exist with me for a few minutes.
“It’s Friday. Four-Fifty-Seven.” I turn my phone around with the time and a note on my lock screen that says ‘Shiloh’s Test Results’.
That pretty pink color snakes up his neck and over his cheeks, and I see the explosion coming by the downward tilt of his lips.
Distraction.
I drop my phone back in my pocket, and make a show of stroking a hand down my thigh.
Right there.
His eyes catch the movement, and the ticking time bomb deflates.
I’m perfectly happy being seen as a sexual object in Shiloh’s eyes. It’s thrilling to know he wants me that badly. Wants what I can give him. Wants what I’ve withheld.
“Has that been your lock screen all day?”
He drops onto the bench beside me, and it’s a struggle not to drop my arm around his shoulder and pull him into me. H’ed grunt and he’d grumble, but I can imagine him settling. Can imagine resting my head on his and just... existing.
“As if you haven’t been on edge waiting, sweetheart.”
Shiloh sneers and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“I’ve been on edge for a week, asshole.”
I glance over at him to find that he’s watching me. He’s leaned back with his legs just far enough apart that I could put a hand on his thigh and rub him with the heel of my hand and it not look particularly dirty. I’ve noticed him forgoing anything in his pants lately so I have easier access to his arousal.
God, how I love having the pleasure of torturing this man.
“A few more minutes and we can find somewhere private to play, if you’d like.”
“Can’t you just...?” He bumps his knee on mine and fixes his stare on the hand still gripping my thigh.
“Sweetheart.” Now I move my hand to his shoulder, but it’s not the sweet gesture I originally had in mind. My palm splays across his neck and guides his head around. Bright, expressive eyes stare into mine. “I know you want to come, and I’ll take care of you.”
