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He gave up on the emails after a few minutes. He couldn’t concentrate. Instead, he stalked to the on-suite bathroom and took a very long shower. It started off cold since that’s the way he normally preferred shit when he couldn’t get his mind to function in a straight fucking line or get the hell under control, but he couldn’t hack it and gave up on it too. He switched the water to hot and probably drained the entire tank, he stayed under the spray so long.
When he stepped out, the house was quiet. Ominously so. He didn’t trust the silence. Silence usually meant, in the world of mini monsters, that something bad was going down.
He changed his mind when he heard Lexi shuffling around in the room next to him. Unfortunately, his cock really liked the fact that there was only a thin wall separating them. He had to, very carefully, pull on a fresh pair of jeans. He was pissed off about the boner he was rocking. Why the hell couldn’t his dick just get it through its head that Lexi was off limits. Oh right. His dick’s head didn’t have a brain. It was good for only one thing and that one thing was never going to happen with Lexi this side of the century. He should write her off. Forget the whole damn thing. Problem was, he’d been telling himself to do that for a year and no matter how hard he’d tried, how many other women he’d taken out, how he’d buried himself in work, it hadn’t happened.
He was at war with his cock. Or his brain was. Semantics. It didn’t help.
Curtis let out a sigh of frustration that rippled off the walls as he grabbed his laptop again. He half successfully managed to bury himself in work shit and not come up for air until it was past midnight, which meant it was an appropriate time to go the fuck to bed.
Lexi’s room was absolutely silent. It didn’t stop him from thinking about her, asleep in bed, her face unguarded, angelic, and devoid of any of the disgust or disdain that she normally displayed when she looked in his direction. He kept his thoughts pretty G rated on purpose, thinking about her lips and eyes, how soft and satiny her skin probably was, how ridiculously fine her hair would be under his fingertips. He did it on purpose, focusing on the small details, in hopes that his cock would give up the ghost and finally calm down.
It didn’t. Apparently, his cock liked Lexi’s lips and hair and skin just as much as it liked her finer assets, the not so G-rated ones, but somewhere eventually his exhaustion won out over the frustration he felt- sexual and otherwise- and he drifted off into a welcome sea of black oblivion.
Something sharp, a slight noise, woke him up. He wasn’t a deep sleeper at the best of times. Instead of cranking upright in bed, he stayed frozen, his eyes closed, refusing to give away that he was awake. He kept his breaths even, and sure as shit, he’d heard a noise. His door. It was his door creaking open. It creaked again and then the whisper of feet meeting hardwood flooded the room.
He had good ears, too. His mom and dad always said that about him growing up. He used to eavesdrop on his mom all the time when she was on the phone and it drove her nuts.
The footsteps were too soft and too padded to be a child’s. Not that his niece or nephew would ever seek sanctuary in his room after the little showdown from earlier. They probably viewed him as a grouchy bear that shouldn’t be woken up, and they were right. He kept feigning sleep, but other parts of his body were very, very alert. He’d gone to sleep in his jeans and t-shirt, so the hard on that was back in full force probably wasn’t visible under the thin sheet he’d thrown over himself. He was on his back, but still, he didn’t give away that he was awake.
Lexi. Lexi was in his room.
She was in his room, after dark, in the middle of the night. Creeping silently, not barging in and screaming that the house was on fire.
If she was there, it must mean that she wasn’t immune to the kiss in the pool after all. That she’d felt it, felt what he did. Maybe he was right, and she’d shared the sentiment all along. Maybe she wanted him too. Her outright disdain and all her coolness really would make sense then. Hatred and love- or at least lust and desire- were so closely linked it was often confusing. Was she there to admit, that all along, she’d been fighting the same thing he was? That she was finally, finally going to admit defeat?
