I pointed to the bathroom door, giving Bryson a small smile. “Bathroom is in there. I might have an old shirt. I’ll look for you.”

He watched me with hesitation, like he wanted to say more but instead he nodded, muttering his thanks as he went inside.

Painful flashbacks were hitting me faster than the speed of light, and as I walked into my room, pulling out a sealed box from my cupboard, I ignored the hot tears that formed. I took a deep breath, pulling open the packing tape so I could reach into the brown cardboard box. Immediately, the smell of must and Versace Eros hit me.

My dad’s personal items stared back at me – his class ring on top with the brass all faded. A picture of my parents on their wedding day in front of the church. Newspaper articles boasting about his successes as a young entrepreneur and a polaroid of us – I was about 7, my two front teeth missing as I sat high on his shoulders with an ice cream in my hand at some boardwalk. A sad burst of laughter caught in my throat as I remembered moments after the picture was snapped, my ice cream fell on dad’s head. I laughed at him and he told me it was from a bird before chasing me around the pier. Naive me, knowing it was ice cream, still believed him and screamed as he chased me with the ice cream with the threat of smearing it on my face. Mom had stood off to the side, with her own ice cream laughing at the two of us.

I didn’t even notice the two tears that had fallen until I noticed the drops of water on the pile of clothes in the box.

“Fuck,” I muttered, wiping them away quickly, “pull your shit together.”

Sniffling, I grabbed a dry button up shirt from the box, heading towards the bathroom. My knuckles tapped on the door before Bryson opened it a few seconds later with a curious expression.

“Here you go, this might fit,” I offered, holding out the shirt to him.

Bryson looked at the shirt, awe in his eyes as he took it slowly. I could see the questions on his face and as he stepped further out, my self-pitying thoughts disappeared.

Well fuck me dead.

He had ditched his coffee covered shirt, his tanned torso bare as the tap in the bathroom ran. I think the shirt was in the sink under the running water but I couldn’t be sure as my eyes were glued to his slender, toned body. He wasn’t huge by any means, but he had a slight muscular frame. Enough to let people know he cared about himself, but not that he lived in the gym. He had light brown tufts of soft hair on his chest which coned into a line that went down the contoured outlines of his abdominal muscles... leading down to....

“Harlow...?”

My gaze snapped up as my cheeks heated in embarrassment. Ah fuck.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, turning around so my back faced him.

Oh god, do I walk away? Stay here? What is the correct etiquette when you are busted being a perve to the love of your life and ex-work colleague?!

Silence hung between us and as the seconds passed, I contemplated heading back to the living room to wait for him. He must think I was an idiot, not that he would be wrong.

I took a deep breath, stepping forward to leave him in peace when a hand snapped out and grabbed my wrist.

“Wait...” came his deep voice, forcing me to a standstill.

I froze, my heart pounding recklessly as I stood still at his command.

“Yeah...?” I whispered.

His hand tugged on my wrist, and I turned around slowly, swallowing as I faced him. His brown eyes shimmered as he stared down at me, the air between us growing thicker. The distance between our bodies was closing slowly as he stepped towards me, and I mirrored his actions without even thinking.

The warmth of his skin lightly pressed into me, sending shivers down my body. I was hooked looking at him, my eyes darting to his soft pink lips and jaw stubble. And when I looked back to his eyes, I noticed him staring at my lips too.

Nervously, my tongue swept out, licking my bottom lip before I chewed on it. My brain was malfunctioning, the wires gone and I sucked in a breath as Bryson’s hand let go of my wrist, moving up to instead find its place on my waist just below my ribcage.

Holy fuck... was I dreaming?

It took a moment to register but I slowly realized Bryson was getting closer, his face inching nearer to mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face and my body took over, my toes pushing up as my eyes fluttered closed as I braced myself for what I had been dying for, for so long.

Tags: Steph Macca Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net