Tight

Hell, I still was that, I just wasn’t living under my parents’ roof anymore to give them grief over it.

But when I was with her I felt calmer, better about myself. I felt whole.

And it had been two years of me longing for her, not even sure how I would ever admit my feelings, tell her that I was so hard up for her, so in love with her, I was driving myself insane.

She looked up at me from the black-rimmed glasses sliding down her tiny nose. She pushed the frames up, straightened a little, and gave me a small smile, as if she found me talking to her father like that amusing.

But it was that smile that had my heart racing, that had my cock coming alive once more. I could’ve groaned, watching as she picked up a piece of watermelon from her plate and took a bite out of it. My mother was saying something to her, but my focus was on Kennedy’s lips wrapped around that piece of red flesh, the soft sound of her teeth crunching into it, the small droplet of watermelon juice sliding down her chin.

I wanted to lean forward and lick that bead of juice away, to run my tongue along her skin, which I had no doubt was as sweet as that watermelon she ate.

I curled my hands on the edge of the chair, my nails digging into the wood. I needed to get out of here or I was liable to come right in my jeans like a damn teenager.

I excused myself and took my plate into the kitchen, knowing that staying any longer would just be torture for me. I headed out the front door and once I was on the porch, I leaned against the banister, gripping the railing tightly and closing my eyes as I tried to grapple with my control. My dick throbbed behind my jeans, and my balls were drawn up tight.

I should just leave, but here I was not wanting to go because Kennedy was inside, because all I wanted to do was pull her to the side, cup her face, and kiss her until she was breathless and holding on to me. I wanted to do that and more, wanted to tell her that I’d fallen in love with her, that I’d do anything to make us work.

But like a fucking pussy, I stayed back, kept how I felt to myself, and knew that crossing that line would more than likely end up putting a rift in our families and destroying the relationship we did have.

Chapter Two

Kennedy

I helped Catherine clean up, my mind on Roman. Since I’d met him—fallen for him—I had kept my feelings for him a secret, kept them buried so deep inside of me that sometimes I was even surprised by the depths of them. And when I allowed them to resurface, they took my breath away.

“Thanks for the help, sweetie.”

I smiled and nodded at Catherine and left the kitchen, needing to run, to work off all this wild energy inside of me.

I went over to the front door and sat on the little bench in the foyer, putting on my running shoes. I needed to get out of here for a little bit, the stress, although it had only lasted a few moments, was exhausting. But then again, that was my father.

He was a hard man to love, but he loved hard. And because of his strong personality, he tended to make people uncomfortable with his brashness. Him saying that to Roman had been a jab, and I’d wanted to call him out on it.

I saw how hard Roman worked, knew that just because he wasn’t going to school full-time, my father saw that as a failure.

But just as I’d been about to say something to my dad, to put him in his place more or less, Roman had stood up for himself, like he always did. And that was one of the traits I loved so much about him.

He didn’t put up with shit. He might be a bad boy and have the reputation to match, one I’d heard about as soon as my dad and I had moved in with Catherine, but it was that trait that drew me to him.

We were total opposites, but I felt like we were the same as well.

Outcasts.

He had a tarnished background.

I was an introvert and distant from everyone.

The same but different. Perfect for each other even though I’d never admit how I felt.

Once I had my shoes on, I opened the front door, my focus on my hands as I brought up the playlist on my phone. I ran into a very big, hard body, stumbling backwards and dropping my phone. Before it crashed to the porch, a very masculine hand caught it, lifting it up and handing it back to me.