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I can feel his eyes moving up and down me from behind.
“Perfect.” He says to himself again. “Just…perfect.”
And once his massive hand moves over mine, helping me turn the key, I feel everything just falling into place.
CHAPTERSIX
Brandon
Maybe I am tired after all.
Tired of pretending I’m here for anything else except May.
And I suspect Steve, knowing me better than most, is quicker to pick up on the signals I’m broadcasting than even she is.
Asking if she has a boyfriend with him right next to me isn’t so unusual. Or so I thought.
But his blank look and the way he takes off tells me more than anything he could ever say to my face.
Would I risk my friendship with Steve for this obsession with his only daughter?
I guess that depends.
Depends on whether or not May is receptive to my advances, as I hope she’ll be.
And once I help her unlock her front door, once we step inside and I notice her trembling in the best possible way, well….
Sorry, Steve, I really am. I don’t wanna hurt you or May. But if this feeling is a two-way street, there’s not gonna be a lot any of us can do about it.
I don’t grab hold of her or force myself on her once we’re inside.
She looks like she’s having as hard a time as I am trying to keep it ‘just friends’ already, and I’ve just walked in the door.
We stand kinda awkward, with May looking at her feet and me just basking in the sight of her so close.
I want nothing more than to reach down and pull her close. Kiss her like I know she needs it and so much more.
“You wanna cup of coffee or something?” she finally asks, commenting on how tired her dad said I was.
“Do I look tired?” I ask her, smiling.
Itching to remove my bag that still covers my crotch so she can see for herself just how far away from being tired I really am.
“Sure,” I hear myself saying instead.
Figuring it’ll be the perfect way to sit her down and have a proper conversation.
We move through to the kitchen, and although I’ve seen Steve’s place plenty of times over the years, it all seems so…small.
I’m no stranger to being a big man in regular-sized places, but with May and her dad living in the same house and her all grown up now, it just doesn’t seem right somehow.
She busies herself fixing coffee, and setting my bags down. I take a seat at the table, keeping a keen eye on her curves as she moves.
Knowing in a moment that there’s no fucking way I can stay in this house more than an hour, let alone a few days, I’ll have to tell her how I feel.
“Cream and sugar?” May asks, turning her head just long enough to ask.
Is that a question or a promise?
