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Oh holy hell, Bateman.
That man is cut. Muscles on every inch of him. Decorated in black ink, he has the sexy V thing I thought only existed in magazines.
And that cock! Is it normal to swoon over a man’s cock? No, but I’m the weird girl leave it to me to make it a thing.
I melt against the back of the bathroom door, sighing with a heavy breath at the thought of that monster. It’s thick and long, and it looks so inviting. His body has changed so much since I last saw him, and I try to imagine what the details in black ink, look like on his hips. Does the tribal ink span his thighs? His ass?
As I’m daydreaming against the door, soaked to the bone and starting to feel the chill, I’m startled by the water turning off. It hasn’t been more then a minute…right?
I push off the door and hurry down the hall to my room. The lights are all on and I’m surprised to find a bag already on the bed. Walking in, I see the Star Wars pins I got him the Christmas before we stopped talking. The sight makes me smile, and I wonder again why his bags in here. This is my room. It’s always my room.
“Hey, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You don’t need to be. I’m sorry for barging in. I couldn’t hear the shower over the pelting rain,” I say, pointing up at the ceiling, trying my best to look at his face as he stands in the doorway, a crisp white towel hanging lose on his hips. Tattoo-covered hips.
“I’ll just grab my bag.”
“Okay,” I say, but the question burns, and after fifteen years, why hold back anything? “Did you want to sleep in here?”
He stops and pauses, with bag in hand, almost in the clear but not out of the room.
“No. This is your room. I crash here whenever I blow through. Your sheets looked clean.” He leaves after a casual shrug. Still, something about it doesn’t feel one hundred percent truthful.
I remind myself this crush will go nowhere, but a nagging voice whispers that I’m not eighteen anymore. A lot has changed over the years, and just like that, a treacherous spark of hope ignites. Still, I heave a sigh, knowing it’ll only land me brokenhearted, if I followed it.
Soren is off-limits. My brother’s best friend. Hell, a fuckin’ celebrity who probably dates supermodels, and his parents are my parents’ best friends. We’re like family, and my crush would only muddy the water between everyone. It’s better this way.
Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
If he’s staying, I’ll go, but hopefully, he moves on soon, and I can move in without the temptation that would only lead to more embarrassment. A montage of my teenage fantasies floods my head as I unpack my bag and take a shower. The hot water and lingering, musky smell of him only fuels my fires, and I do unspeakable things with his name on my lips.
CHAPTERTWO
Soren
My feet can’t move fast enough, yet they don’t seem to want to move at all. Tossing my shit on my bed in my room, I close the door a little too hard and start pacing.
Fuck.
My throat fucking hurts, and my skin is crawling. I pull at my hair for relief, but I can still see the image of her face as she stood there taking me in. And there’s no mistaking her appreciation for what she saw.
I feel as if Father Time smacked me across the back of the head. Seeing Robin again was inevitable, but it’s been a really long time.
Slapped in the face with something, or someone in this case, who I haven’t laid eyes on in fifteen years. And the last time I saw her… Shit.
We need to talk. Funny thing about four words, especially those in connection to a woman; they usually send me running. With Robin, I won’t lie. I’d love any excuse to talk to her. To listen to any detail of her new life she might feel like sharing.
Milo’s face drifts into my mind. It’s a bucket of disappointment, setting my head right. I made an oath to always look out for her and most importantly, never touch her.
When we were little, it was easy. She called me her prince, and I called her Peach because Mario was and still is the greatest game of all time. Of course, she’s Princess Peach.
But when we hit puberty, things went apeshit. I got lots of attention from girls growing up, and Robin started acting bratty. That’s when the three of us stopped hanging out together, and I got yearly reminders from Milo not to get any ideas. He made it clear her crush on me would pass, and the two of us would never be long term, so it wasn’t worth the risk. Can’t lie, hearing my best friend tell me I wouldn’t be able to make his sister happy stung like a bitch.
The last reminder was on her eighteenth birthday. Since then, the two of us have successfully avoided each other. Even if I’ve hated ever minute.
Thinkin’ back on the last time I saw her makes my heart beat faster and my palms sweaty. Fuck, if I could go back in time to that night, that moment…
What? No matter what I might wish could have happened, it doesn’t change our circumstances. Robin is my best friend’s little sister. The night of her party, I definitely saw her as all woman, but unfortunately, it didn’t change our circumstances.
