“You’re so full of crap I bet your eyes have turned brown with it.” She slipped her fingers from his grasp and hugged her elbows. “Don’t do this because of what happened in the pool. I have enough people doing the let’s-lie-to-make-her-feel-good thing. You’re the only one I’ve been able to count on to not bullshit me.”
Thunder rolled outside as if gathering energy off her building anger.
He leaned back on the couch, his hands out to his sides. “Chill, I’m not lying to you, okay?” I haven’t really been sitting here all night watching you instead of the stupid movie. And no, I haven’t spent the last two weeks replaying how good it felt to kiss you that day. Or wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped things.
She stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, like she was determining results on some internal lie detector.
He knew more discussion in this direction wasn’t going to lead anywhere good. If she kept prying, his feelings were going to slip out, especially with his tongue loose from beer. “You should go to bed.”
Her lips parted as if she was going to push the issue further, but then—thank God—clamped them shut and turned her back on him. “Good night, Jace.”
After he was sure she’d be done in the bathroom and tucked into her own room, Jace trudged upstairs to get ready for bed. He should’ve skipped brushing his teeth. The minute he stepped into the steamy, cherry-scented bathroom, his hard-on returned full force. She’d showered.
He groaned as images of her slipping out of her clothes right where he stood assailed him. Water sluicing down over her every curve, washing away all that makeup and leaving behind that natural beauty so few girls seemed to have. Her hands sliding soap over her naked body, touching, exploring. Fuck.
He brushed his teeth with brutal force and shoved his toothbrush back in its holder, fighting the temptation to climb in the shower and let the fantasy run wild while he stroked himself. He’d done it before with her on his mind. But he knew it wouldn’t provide any real relief. It’d only key him up more, and all he wanted to do right now was fall into bed and crash. At least if he was sleeping he didn’t have to think about the girl two doors down.
He made his way to his bedroom and flipped on a lamp. The room flooded with warm light, but then flickered off, the distinctive sound of everything electronic in the house going from a whir to dead silence following it. Ah, hell.
He crossed to the far side of the room and pulled back the curtains on the pair of large windows, lighting his room with the flashing of the storm. With wind like this, losing electricity had been inevitable. Now he wouldn’t even be able to distract himself with TV to help get to sleep. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped between the cool sheets.
Stared at the ceiling.
This was going to be a long night.
He counted the seconds between the bolts of lightning and the boom of thunder—the space between getting less and less. The worst of the rain would pass over them soon. But he feared his throbbing hard-on wouldn’t fade quite as quickly.
He tossed from one side of the bed to the other, trying to think of something—anything—besides the girl down the hall. Even replaying some of the gory scenes from the movie they’d watched didn’t help. Nothing could shake the image of her standing there—smudged eyeliner, faded sweatshirt, and a jaded smirk that told him she really didn’t believe she was beautiful.
Didn’t realize he couldn’t even concentrate when she was near.
He flopped onto his back with a strangled sigh. He would never fall asleep at this rate. Not with his brain on an endless loop and his body staging the boner from hell. Resigned, he let his hand track down his abdomen and below the waistband of his shorts, imagining that it was her delicate, purple-polished fingers wrapping around his cock instead of his large hand.
He groaned as he stroked up the length and ran a thumb over the tip. God, how many times in the last few months had he thought of her this way? He couldn’t ever remember aching for someone like this. Sex was sex. Girls were girls. Both had always come easy to him. Neither was something to get all knotted up about. Why was she so different?
Her name whispered off his lips as he brought himself closer to release, and the windows rattled with the next roll of thunder. Jace almost missed the faint tap tap tap sound mixed in with it. The noise came again. He tilted his head, listened. Another knock and then his door cracked open a sliver, a beam of light peeking through. “Jace?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pulled his hand from his shorts and squinted in the glare of the flashlight. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”
“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice swallowed by another rumble outside.
Hell no! He sat up on his elbows, making sure he had enough blankets over him to cover what was beneath the sheets. “You okay?”
She stepped fully into the room and clicked off the flashlight. “Do you have any matches or a lighter? I . . . I know it’s stupid, but the dark still freaks me out and I want to light a few candles.”
He frowned. “No, sorry, I don’t. I could go look downstairs. There may be some in the kitchen.”
“No, don’t get up.” She took another step toward him, the flashing from the windows lighting her in strobe effect, each blink giving his eyes something new to torture himself with. Bare legs. Short gym shorts. Damp hair. A tank top so thin he could see the shadow of dusky pink nipples beneath it.
But where he lost it was when his eyes locked with hers. The longing he felt in his own chest reflected in her pale blue stare. He tried to clear the knot that lodged in his throat. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Author: Roni Loren
“I don’t want to go back to my room, Jace,” she said, something very different from fear lacing her words.
His tongue grew thick in his mouth. “Well, you can’t stay in here.”
Another step closer, now within arm’s reach of him. “Why not? No one will be home until tomorrow.”