I feel my cheeks heating, as I catch myself doing it.
“Should we talk about what happened back at—”
“Leave.”
I freeze, my heart jerking to an unsteady stop. “What?”
“I said leave,” he grits.
A crushing weight settles on my chest. Something burns the backs of my eyes, but I refuse to believe it’s tears. I will not let this asshole make me cry, not again.
“Why can’t we just talk?”
He clenches his teeth together, causing his jaw to set in a hard line. “Leave, before you make another mistake with me.”
I jerk back at his ire. “You’re not a mistake, Rome.”
He scoffs, smiling coldly. The look is an ice pick to the chest. “Tell that to your doctor boyfriend.” The door shuts in my face, before I can get a word in edgewise.
Ugh! I groan, pounding my fist on the wood. “He’s not my boyfriend, dammit!”
When he still doesn’t open the door, I stomp down his steps and head back home. I collapse against the door, suddenly feeling drained. Today has been a roller coaster of emotions. I don’t know if I should be sad or happy that Roman kissed me. It’s glaringly obvious Roman has been cold with me because of Travis.
Heaving a deep sigh, I lock up, strip out of my clothes, and head for the shower. The entire time I’m washing, I think about Rome. His lips. His hands and the way they felt on my body. Every time I have the urge to touch myself, I force myself to stop. This isn’t healthy. These aren’t healthy or sane habits, and I need to get ahold of myself.
When I crawl into bed, I’m plagued with thoughts of Roman and Travis—of what’s right and wrong. One of them I feel bad for because I turned him down, and the other, I want more than I want to take my next breath.
How did this become my new life?
“Somethin Tells Me”—Bryson Tiller
I just happen to be looking into her bedroom, thinking about what a jackass I am, when she strolls in with a white fluffy towel wrapped around her body. I shouldn’t be able to see so well into her bedroom, but the neighbors before her had put up that shitty little picket fence, and I never changed it. So, instead of a standard fence that gives neighbors a semblance of privacy, there’s nothing blocking our view. Nothing keeping me from watching her.
As if sensing my gaze, she pauses near the window, and our gazes collide through the glass. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I hope she’s going to shut her curtains. Do something other than stare, because I won’t be responsible for my actions, if she doesn’t cut me off right here and right now.
There’s a challenge there in my eyes. I’m telling her to close it. Shut me out.
I stiffen on the bed when I spot her toying with the knot on her towel. With only about ten feet between our houses, I can clearly make out the defiance on her face, in answer to my challenge. The lighting is dim, but it only serves to highlight her body and her perfect creamy skin. When our gazes meet, it sends a tremor down my spine. I grit my teeth, silently begging her not to do it.
She does it anyway.
Olivia undoes the knot and drops her towel. Heat licks at my flesh, swirling in my gut. I force a thick swallow, taking in her perfect body. I imagine she’s still damp after the shower, droplets of water clinging to her skin. Her tits are perfect, just as I knew they’d be, and more than a handful. Even from here, the dusky color of her nipples is so appealing, I feel my cock strain to life in my jeans.
Dragging my gaze up her body, I settle on her face, and Olivia licks her lips nervously. I swear I even see her cheeks pink, just like they usually do when she’s embarrassed. I clasp my palms on my thighs, forcing myself to keep them there and not anywhere else. When she walks closer to the window, giving me a better view, I just about groan. Her hands, her soft delicate hands, touch the flat planes of her stomach. She feels herself, her soft skin, skimming up to her breasts. My nostrils flare when she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, while she toys with her tits, pinching her nipples, and fuck me, I almost shoot my load in my pants. That’s how hot