Darkly (Follow Me 4)

I picture seven-year-old Skye racing through a cornfield, frightened and lost, her little heart beating against her chest.

I picture present Skye shooting photos of Addison Ames drinking coffee—paying her dues and using any opportunity to get her name known as a photographer.

I picture older Skye, still beautiful, standing in my bedroom, naked and waiting…

Fuck. It. All.

I feign sleep as Skye touches my now-flaccid dick. Her touch scorches me, and already my cock wants to respond.

Then she kisses my shoulder.

“You are my Everest, Braden,” she whispers. “I will figure you out.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

I rise the next morning without waking Skye and spend more time than I have staring at her sleeping body—the warm flush covering her chest and breasts, the soft sleeping smile on her beautiful lips.

I could wake her.

Fuck her.

Pull more climaxes out of her.

But I have work to do, and a new reality hits me. I want Skye more than I want to work.

Willpower, Braden. Willpower.

This is all new to me. I can’t recall the last time I spent the night at a woman’s place. I’m feeling an odd combination of regret and happiness.

And the regret part is pretty small.

If I didn’t have an early meeting…

Oh, for God’s sake. I pad into her small bathroom and turn on the shower. The water pressure is weak, but I squeeze some shampoo—raspberry-scented and oddly refreshing—into my palms and wash my hair. Then I squeeze shower gel—also raspberry, no wonder she always smells like raspberries—into her loofah and scrub myself clean. I don’t have my toothbrush, but I swish some of Skye’s mouthwash around. I’ll brush my teeth when I get home.

I dry off, dress in yesterday’s clothes, and walk back to the bed.

I grab my phone as I kiss Skye gently on her forehead.

She opens her eyes. “You took a shower?”

“Yeah. I’ve never used raspberry shampoo before. I like the fruity smell.” I give her a half smile.

She giggles and then parts her lips and inhales, smelling my wet hair.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” I continue. “You were out.”

A yawn splits her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t wake up.”

“I can.”

“You can? Why?”

“Multiple orgasms will do that to you.” I stare at my phone.

“What time is it?”

“Seven.”