We walked in silence. The wood floor, soft against our bare feet, led to the large curved staircase in the center of the home. Of course, she was used to seeing beautiful homes. Probably grander and more stately than my home. I could’ve had just that, but I chose homey. I chose warmth over stark. Every little detail in the house I’d thought of—warm tones, paintings commissioned by not the best artists but painted pictures that spoke to me. Not that I’d ever admit to that. The boys would think I was a pussy. The furniture, picked for both comfort and style, dressed each room.
Down the large hallway filled with art and living plants, I led her to the guest suite. I turned the knob and opened the double French doors. “This is your room.”
She stepped past me. Her bare arms grazed my chest. “This is nice, Barrett. Not what I expected at all.”
What did she expect?I didn’t want to get into a conversation with me standing outside her room and her dressed in barely anything.
“So, where’s your room?”
“Down the other end.” And the hell away from you.
“Well, do you have something I can wear?”
Oh, shit.“Let me see what I can find.”
I started walking down the hallway, but when I turned, I found her behind me.
“I can bring it to you.”
“I know.” She smiled. Her grin sent a lifeline to my dick. No. No. No. Three ways saying the same thing meant the same answer. No touching Connor's sister. You're no good for her, and she’s definitely not one to fuck and leave.
I heard her follow me inside, and without looking back, I quickly made my way to the walk-in closet. Just grab anything, a t-shirt, sweats, anything to get her out of your bedroom. I rifled through my oak drawers, trying to find something, anything.
Walking out with a bundle of t-shirts and shorts in my hands, I expected to find her in the doorway. Instead, she stood at the arched windows facing the ocean in the far corner. The moonlight shone, catching her wavy hair. From here, I could make the outline of her French undies and the bare curve of her ass.
What the hell, man.You need to get laid.
“This is magical.”
“It’s a nice view,” I said, my tone clipped. “I’ve got some t-shirts for you.”
“You built this place, right?”
“I restored it, stripped it back to its bare bones, keeping the best bits and making it whole again.”
She turned to face me and took the clothes. Her hand brushed my thumb, and it sent a current down the base of my spine. I stood taller than her, a lot taller without her shoes too.
She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Barrett,” she said, kissing me on the cheek.
My arms wrapped around her lower waist, and her tits brushed against my chest, her smell intoxicating like candy apples. We stayed like this for too long. Letting my arms fall to the side, I said, “I think you should get some rest, Lourde. We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”
She turned on her heel without looking back. Grateful for her exit, I exhaled. Having her this close and all to myself was testing my strength.