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Brock,
For a rainy day
Joey
It was simple as far as notes go, but it smelled like her. Yes, I smelled the fucking piece of paper like a creeper. It took everything in me not to go to her and thank her. There are a million ideas racing through my mind as to how I can properlythank her.Instead, I lie in bed staring up at the shadows on the ceiling, thinking about her silky-smooth skin underneath myfingertips. Fuck me, but I couldn’t help but touch her when she was that close. It was a risk with Caleb sitting in the same room with us, but it was one I was gladly willing to take.
She’s intoxicating.
Hence the reason I can’t stop thinking about her. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s quarter past seven. I still have forty-five minutes before I’m supposed to meet Joey downstairs for breakfast. Tossing the covers off, I strip out of my boxer briefs and head to the shower. I don’t wait for the water to heat, hoping that the ice-cold jolt will cure this hard-on that I have for her. It turns out luck isn’t on my side today. In fact, the more I think about her, the harder I get. Knowing I can’t stand close to her and make breakfast like this, I take matters into my own hands.
Bracing one hand on the shower wall, while the other slides between my legs to grip my cock, I tug roughly from root to tip. I close my eyes and she’s all I can see. My hand moves faster and faster until I feel the tingles in my spine. Her name is a murmur on my lips as I blow all over the shower wall. Hanging my head, I let the water rain down on me. The water is finally warm, but I feel cold. Empty. I can’t help but think that if Joey were here with me, we’d both be warm.
Shaking out of my thoughts, I quickly wash off and spray down the wall with the detachable showerhead before climbing out and wrapping a towel around my waist. I’m quick to dress, just some boxer briefs, a pair of gym shorts, and a Ramblers T-shirt. Grabbing my phone, I make my way downstairs.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Joey’s chipper voice greets me.
“You’re early,” I say, stepping around the counter just to be closer to her. I stop next to the stove where she’s frying bacon. With my back to the counter, I rest against the edge, crossing my ankles. I’m trying to appear to be unaffected, but I have no idea if it’s working. I’ve never had to pretend that a woman didn’t turn me inside out. Joey’s the first and only to do so.
I grip the counter beside me, and I’m sure on the outside I look unaffected, but my nails are digging into the granite countertop, all from the extreme effort of trying not to touch her. I really want to touch her. My fingers ache, not from my grip but from the need to feel her soft skin.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Everything okay?” I release my grip on the counter and turn to face her. Her hair has fallen out of her bun, and a strand has caught in her eyelash. I don’t even think before I reach out and tuck the errant strand behind her ear. Her hair feels like silk.
“Yeah, everything’s good.” She smiles, but it’s not her usual sunshine smile.
“You know that you can talk to me, right? I won’t spill to your brother.” This time her smile is genuine, and it lights up my fucking world.
“Thank you for that. But I’m good. Promise.” She turns her attention back to the stove. “So, I decided on bacon, eggs, and toast? How does that sound?”
“Good,” I say, my voice gruff. “What can I do?”
“I think I have it under control. How about you grab yourself a cup of coffee and keep me company.”
“You want a cup?” I offer.
She points to a cup on the counter that I somehow missed. Then again, it’s not all that surprising when all I see is her. “I’m on my second cup.”
“How long have you been up?”
“I’m not really sure. I didn’t sleep all that great. I think I came downstairs to read at around six.”
I nod even though she’s not looking at me. “That’s about the time I was watching the shadows dance across the ceiling.”
“Did you get my gift?” she asks.
“I did. Thank you.”
“Did you read any of it?”
“No, my mind was preoccupied.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“You like talking about yourself?” I ask before I can think better of it.
She whips her head around to look at me. “What do you mean?”
