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That Hunter Miles was going to woo the fuck out of her.
***
Chapter 4:
Saturday Afternoon
SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH my opened blinds.
It pulled me from the semi-state of consciousness I’d been under since coming to bed. A limbo. I was neither awake nor asleep, but still fully aware of every move going on outside these four walls.
The sound of doors opening and closing. The sound of my sister giggling two hours ago on her way to her bedroom down the hall. The subtle shift in the air—the slight shadow that told me someone stood just outside my door thirty minutes ago.
They didn’t knock, but I knew who it was.
Bailey.
There was no doubt in my mind that she’d come—more than likely wearing that same light pink tease of a pajama set while debating on whether to knock, shifting from foot to foot while biting down on that plump bottom lip I now yearned to taste more than anything.
My beautiful girl worked up the nerve to stand before my door, wondering if I was up yet.
During my teenage years she’d always come and wake me up on the weekends. Just like today, she’d come and pause—her shadow beneath the door’s edge shifting in an uneasy pattern. Her feet moved in a rather telling way: sliding from side to side and always favoring her right leg.
She’d prop her left foot behind the other.
I’d caught her once doing that awkward dance years ago on a night I’d come home late from basketball practice. Thought she looked adorable. Never told her that I’d seen her either, but I now knew what to look for in the small shadow beneath my door.
“Fuck,” I groaned low, my abdomen clenching while imagining her still there. Listening. Wet and swollen.
The house had become quiet. Not a motherfucking peep while I stroked my cock to thoughts of her last night.
Eyes closed, I bit down hard on my bottom lip—fought everything within me not to say her name. My thumb flicked the smooth barbell at the end of my engorged head, spreading the pre-come that dripped from the slit down my shaft. Each stroke brought on a new memory:
How sexy she was.
How her scent embedded itself into my DNA and became a part of me.
How she rocked me to my core that night all those years ago.
Why had I locked that memory away? Because she was young. Too young for you, and you were leaving the next day.
But still. That moment in time with her inside the pool had left a mark. Subconsciously or not, it was after her declaration that I’d become a monk. I’d lied to myself. To everyone.
She was why no one caught my eye. Why I submerged myself in school and avoided the kind of temptations my friends enjoyed.
Because of her.
It always came back to her.
Back then it wasn’t right, and I backed away. Wasn’t our time.
But now, things were different. We both were, in a sense.
Moreover, with one look into those jewel-toned eyes, I’d become a prisoner within my own mind yesterday. Shackled to this unexplained need to take and mark. To embed myself into her system and live there.
Bailey had done what no other woman could with that simple flick of her stare.
She owned me.
