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She looks up at me in surprise at that, “Already?” her brow furrows. “But I just agreed to your deal maybe an hour ago.”
I gaze at her impassively. There’s no need to tell her I’d had this done much earlier in the day when I’d first known what I was going to propose. I’d been pretty sure she’d say yes just to save everyone she knew. She does’t need to know that, though. I know it’ll only serve to piss her off.
She continues to stare at me suspiciously before she finally sighs and heads for the bathroom.
I try not to think of her naked body under the spray as I hear the water of the shower turn on.
I change from my slacks into a loose pair of sweatpants. I go sans shirt, knowing that I’ll slip the sweatpants off and sleep only in my boxers once we get into bed, but with my erection bulging out in my boxers, it’s probably not a good idea for me to strut around in front of Summer wearing only boxers—especially considering her inexperience.
My mouth goes dry just thinking about it. I’ve never had a thing for virgins explicitly or anything, but the thought of another man—or god forbid a fumbling schoolboy—touching Summer makes my vision go red. She’s mine and only mine.
Mine. In every way. The only man she’ll ever kiss. The only one she’ll ever fuck.
Jesus, there goes my cock twitching again.
I’m aware that I must be insane to be putting myself through this torture. I’ve manipulated her into staying with me for thirty days, but I’ve promised no sexual contact that she doesn’t want.
To top it all off, I’m going to have her body laying next to me all night.
Why don’t I just give her her own room?
Because I can’t.
That’s why. Even if all I can do is feel her body next to mine, I’ll take what I can get.
I’ll take her however I can get her. Like a dog taking any scrap he can get from the table.
It’s sad. It’s pathetic.
It’s completely unlike me.
But that’s what she does to me.
Dammit.
The door to the bathroom clicks open, and I lift my eyes to look at her.
My cock surges to full mast.
She looks like an angel. The silk flows down over her curves to stop at mid-thigh. The V-neck shows just a hint of the swell of her sweet breasts. The white silk glows in the moonlight, making her look even more ethereal than usual.
Her damp hair is clinging to her skin, and her lips are sinfully pink. Her eyes are big and wary, regarding me nervously.
I swallow hard and then stand to go over to her, reaching out to touch the damp strands of her hair.
“Come on, sunshine,” my voice comes out as a croak.
She doesn’t say anything. No sharp quip or sassy remark. Instead, she just pads behind me as I lead her back into the bathroom.
I open a drawer and pull out a hair dryer. Not like I ever use one, but I have one around in case the need ever arises.
I plug it in now and begin to dry her hair, combing my fingers through the long strands.
She still doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me in the mirror, her eyes still wide, assessing me like she doesn’t know what to make of me.
Hell, I don’t know what to make of me either.
I watch with fascination as her hair fluffs out and lightens up in color the dryer it gets. It softens under my fingertips, and I see her eyes close in the mirror as she gives in to the sensation of my fingers brushing against her scalp.
