Don't Need You - Lilian Monroe Page 0,44

expectations of Serena. When I step out in a cloud of steam, I feel better. New.

Whatever happens between Serena and me will happen. If it’s nothing, that’s okay. And when I dry my body with a soft, white towel, I mean it. I’m attracted to her, of course, but I don’t want to be hanging on for her. Waiting for her to come home. Wondering where she is.

Serena’s living her own life, maybe for the first time. Who am I to expect her to jump in my arms? I saw what kind of guy her ex-boyfriend is. It would be unreasonable of me to expect her to be interested in me.

As these thoughts fill my mind, I believe them. I wrap the towel around my hips and drag a comb across my head, and I truly, honestly believe that I’m ready to let go of the fantasy of me and Serena.

But when I walk out of the bathroom, Serena’s there, and my fantasies come back with a vengeance. Her lips drop open when she sees me standing in nothing but a towel, holding it closed at my hips. Her eyes run down my body, heat flaming in their depths.

And fire blazes through me, too. It rips a wide swath down to my core, pinning me to the ground. Even though the cool air outside the bathroom is making goosebumps ripple over my skin, I feel warm. Hot. Alive. I can’t move, because her eyes tell me not to.

I just stand still and let her look. When Serena drags her tongue over her lower lip, my stomach clenches so hard it almost hurts. Blood rushes between my legs and all I want to do is drop the towel and let her see it all. Would she like the look of me? Would she lick her lips like that if she could see how hard my cock is right now?

The thought makes another wave of lust crash into me. Every day since I’ve met her, I’ve jerked off to the thought of her perfect, lush lips wrapped around my shaft. Pumping myself in and out of her. Hearing my name on her lips.

Flicking her eyes up to mine, Serena finally speaks. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How was work?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes drift down again, lingering on the flat planes of my chest and stomach. I watch her hands clench into fists, and I wonder if she’s holding herself back from reaching for me.

I take a step forward, loving the way her throat bobs when she swallows. How could I think to resist her? How could I imagine coming home and not wanting to throw her in my bed? How could I think that I was ready to let her go?

“Work was good,” I finally say. “How have you been?”

“Better now,” she answers almost instinctively, then a wash of redness stains her cheeks. Serena shakes her head, finally averting her eyes.

I miss them. I miss the heat of her gaze on my body. I miss the hunger written all over her face. Turning to my bedroom, I slip inside and let out a long breath. I pull on a clean T-shirt, underwear, and jeans before hanging up the towel on a hook on the back of my door and taking a deep breath. My blood is still running hot in my veins. My heart is thumping hard, and another part of me is hard, too.

I shift my pants before opening my bedroom door, steeling myself against the assault Serena’s presence will have on me.

But when I walk out, she’s gone. Her bedroom door is closed, and I let out a disappointed breath.

Friends.

Just friends. Roommates.

Isn’t that what we are? Nothing more, maybe less.

Slumping down on the sofa, I turn on the television and find an old movie. Netflix has Shawshank now, so I click on it and settle in. I’m almost relaxed when Serena’s bedroom door opens, and my body’s on edge again. I turn to see her, noting she’s changed into a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee. She gives me a shy smile, biting her bottom lip and nodding to the seat on the couch beside me.

Aaannd I’m hard again.

I try not to stare—and fail. Her shirt clings in all the right places. I steal a glance at the swell of her breasts, wanting to bury my face between them. The sweatpants hang low on her wide hips, and her ass looks incredible. She sits down, bringing one knee up and