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I grit down, on fire. I rub myself faster in the steaming shower. Muscles pulling taut in my neck and quads. Fuuuck.
In my head, we’re magically, suddenly, naked. Thank you, imagination. I press her against the wall, ass in my clutch, and I push in between her legs. Warmth wraps around my erection as I nestle deep in Willow.
She hangs on.
We kiss, and I rock and rock.
Our lips break as she lets out soft, breathy noises of pure pleasure.
Fuckfuckfuck. Pressure mounts as blood rushes down south, and I feel like a twelve-year-old boy, coming so quick. That can’t happen when I actually see her. Jesus.
Cum washes down the drain, and I wash off with soap.
“Garrison!” Loren’s voice booms through the bathroom. He bangs on the door with a fist. “When you’re done dreaming of my sister, I need to talk to you!”
No idea what that is about, but thank God I came already. If Lo’s trying to mess with me, he should have done it five seconds ago.
But really—it’s just another day living with Loren Hale.
Oddly, I do love it.
I switch off the shower, grab a towel and quickly tie it around my waist. My soaked hair drips, water sliding down my bare shoulders. I whip the door open, and Lo is just leaning against the wall.
I give him a look. “You’re seriously just waiting right there?”
Lo flashes a dry smile. “You have a problem with that? It’s not like you were doing anything inappropriate in the shower.”
“Since when is rubbing one out illegal in this house?”
Lo grimaces. “It’s not. Unless you’re thinking about my sister when you do it. Then that has been illegal since the dawn of time.”
I raise my brows. “So you want me to think about a different girl while I jack off?”
He glares at me like I’m the one who started this. That was definitely him. “No, Garrison, I want you to bury this conversation into the pits of hell where it belongs.”
I readjust my towel on my waist. “It’s buried.”
“Good. Can you babysit Moffy today?” he asks. “My dad called and wants to do lunch.” I already know Lily took Luna to a playdate with Rose’s son, Eliot. Both babies. Both adorable but loud as hell.
My head is spinning though, stuck on the fact that Lo doesn’t want to bring his own son to Jonathan Hale’s house for lunch.
I have to ask. “Is it a work lunch?”
Lo shakes his head and sticks his hands in his pockets. He looks at me like he knows where I’m going. “I love my dad, but the less he’s around my kids, the better.”
I feel like I need to know Jonathan Hale more than I do. To understand the man that has a grip on my girlfriend’s life. Lo and Ryke still have zero clue that he gave Willow money to pay off students. To bury footage of my fight.
It happened a year-and-a-half ago, and I forget about it until moments like these. When it bubbles to the surface like molten tar.
My stomach flip-flops.
Lo frowns. “I’ll be back in plenty of time for you to catch your flight. You don’t have to worry about that.”
He knows I’m flying out to see his sister.
“Yeah, no. Of course, I’ll babysit.”
At that last word, a toddler comes running down the hallway. Arms flailing around him. “UNCLE GARRISON! Did you hear? Did you hear?” Maximoff skids to a stop by his dad. “Mommy said I can go to LEGOLAND!” He bounces on the balls of his feet, and in his happiness, he accidentally flings the Spider-Man toy he’s holding. It hits the wall and bounces off.
Lo grins—his eyes sparkling like that’s my son.
I’ve never had anyone that brings me that kind of happiness. Not until Willow. Can I even imagine a kid with her?
I don’t want to try. Just another thing I can hang onto and lose, right? Anyway, we have to get through this long-distance shit first.
“He’s in good hands,” I tell Lo as Maximoff picks up the toy. “Take your time.” Honestly, babysitting is the one thing I love doing for Lily and Lo. I’m wanted and needed here. And yeah, that feels fucking good.
So I feel like utter shit.
Literally.
For the past seven hours, I’ve been sweating so much that I ditched my pull-over and T-shirt. The fabric is soaked through.
Maximoff lounges on a beanbag in the living room, munching on a bag of granola bites that belong to Ryke. They taste like dirt, but Moffy seems to like them.
Granola crumbs are everywhere. His lap, the beanbag, the rug. And I planned to vacuum before Lily and Lo come home.
But I can’t move. I feel like a hundred million pounds, and on top of that, the sound, look, and smell of granola dirt has my stomach in a blender. I fight nausea and bear down on my teeth.
