My whole body goes taut. “Bad break up?”
She almost chuckles, then nods.
I should’ve guessed it. Why else would she be so damn determined to stay off the grid? I let go of her chin and give her space, knowing the awful answer before I’ve even asked the question.
"He hurt you?"
She closes her eyes, takes a breath. “The word hurt doesn’t begin to describe what that asshole did to me.”
The next time she looks at me, I don’t just see the ballsy teenager with the green eyes. I see the little girl she once was, black dress and bare feet on the grass. I’ve never wanted to protect another person so fiercely. I’ve also never wanted to kill someone so intensely. But I swear, I could beat her ex-boyfriend to death.
It makes no goddamn sense. I know nothing about this girl. But sending her off to fend for herself is no longer an option.
“You can stay here until I leave,” I tell her.
“When will that be?”
“I’m not sure.” I can almost feel the tension creeping back into her limbs. “Not for a few days, at least.”
That seems to calm her well enough. She shoulders her backpack and heads for the bedroom, stopping halfway there to say, “Thank you, Silas.”
Hearing my name on her tongue does strange things to my stomach—and other body parts. “Don’t mention it.”
She closes the bedroom door, and I take the stairs up to the loft. There, I find a tall dresser and a plush reading chair, plus the futon she promised. I pull the futon out into a bed and then find a spare set of sheets in the dresser, alongside some men’s jeans and T-shirts that I can only assume were Jack’s. No towels, though. And after driving all day, what I could use more than anything is a long, hot shower.
I check for towels in ten different places and come up empty. Finally, I have no other option but to ask Norah where they are.
I knock softly on the closed bedroom door. “Hey. Where’d you guys keep the towels?”
Muffled footsteps approach before the door swings open. She’s still got her tank top on, but no shorts. Just plain black panties. If I wasn’t holding on to the door frame, I’d be on my knees, my mouth watering for a taste of something juicy.
“They’re above the washer,” she says, drawing my attention back to her face. I didn’t even know this place had a washing machine. She seems to sense my confusion. “I’ll show you.”
I follow her to the kitchen, trying and failing not to watch her ass sway from side to side as she walks. Every inch of this girl’s body is forbidden fruit, begging me to take a bite. She opens a pocket door to reveal a washing machine, and on the shelf above it, stacks of colorful towels.
“Thanks,” I mumble. She smiles.
I grab a towel and shut myself in the bathroom before the bulge in my khakis can make things even more awkward. Goddamn, what is this girl doing to me? I’ve never had such an intense and immediate reaction to a woman before. And now she’s going to be staying here. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
I strip down and step into the shower. Thankfully there’s already soap and shampoo in a plastic caddy. In my race to get here, I didn’t think to bring much of anything—including clothes. Hopefully something of Jack’s will fit me. As I’m soaping up my body, my thoughts float back to the drive up here. To Norah’s thin tank top, her creamy thighs.
And, oh yeah, her hand on my dick.
My cock is hard, and has been since the moment I first saw her. But it’s the pressure in my balls that needs relieving. I wrap my fist around my shaft and stroke. I think about porn. I think about blonde chicks with fake tits and leather cuffs around their wrists.
I think about anything other than the girl asleep in the next room.
But after a while, the usual bondage fantasy just doesn’t cut it. My cock knows what it wants. It wants Norah Benson on her knees. Her soft, pouty lips wrapped around the head, her pink tongue stroking the underside. It wants her hands gripping my shaft, her big, green eyes gazing up at me, questioning. Is this right? Am I doing it right, Daddy?
Fuck, yes, baby girl. You’re doing it just the way I like...
I bite back a moan as my cock throbs in my fist, shooting cum all over the shower tiles.
One by one, my muscle groups start to relax, as the reality of what I’ve done starts to sink in.
I am in deep fucking trouble.
Chapter Six