I cringe, sending him all my good vibes. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” he laughs. “I’ll let myself out so I don’t piss off your house bitch.”
“Sure,” I smile. “Thanks for letting me steal your car for the afternoon. I don’t think I would have survived if I had to stay there a second longer.”
“Anytime, babe.”
With that, he steps out of my room, leaving the door wide open so I hear the sounds of the busy afternoon house. Judging by the loud, angry music coming from downstairs, I’d say that Colton is down there somewhere and is pissed. At one point, I hear Charlie and Spencer’s voices from down the hallway, and I send a silent thanks up above when they leave without bugging me.
Mom comes in, no doubt having heard the gossip from the other staff about my day, and she demands answers. By the time I’m finally through explaining it all, It’s time for dinner.
Just like yesterday, dinner is an awkward hour of sitting at a too big table with Colton glaring at me while Charles sits on his phone, unable to get out of a business call. Colton is up and gone from the table the second he can and just like yesterday, I avoid heading back upstairs by helping in the kitchen.
Time ticks by way too slowly, and after taking over Colton’s media room for a few hours, I head upstairs to have a proper shower and go to bed. The shower I had at school was cut short and I hardly got a chance to wash properly before being rudely interrupted.
I stand under the hot stream of water, groaning with how my muscles ache from running around on the field for a good part of my day. My hand travels down my body and I do my best to rub my muscles, but truth be told, I’m probably going to be sore for a few days.
Grabbing my towel, I quickly dry my hair and wrap it around me, loving how warm and cozy it is. I didn’t even know that heated towel rails were a thing, but apparently, they are, and I freaking love it. As much as I hate being here in this mansion, it certainly has its perks.
I step out of my bathroom and back into my moonlit bedroom as a yawn pulls from deep within me. I can’t wait to climb into bed and find the peacefulness of sleep. I drop my towel at the bathroom door and stride across my room before slipping in between the sheets, not bothering to get dressed.
My head crashes down on the pillow and my eyes close with satisfaction, yet my mind still swirls with the memories of today. Apart from my dad’s murder, it’s been a long time since I’ve had such a shitty day.
Thoughts of Colton pop into my mind. This is all on him. I know Coach Sylvester would have still done what he did, but Colton has the power in that school. It’s as obvious as the sky is blue. He would have just had to say one word and it would have been over. Same with the towel situation. Had he told the by-standers to fuck off they would have, but he didn’t. He allowed it to continue.
God, I fucking hate him.
But those eyes, and the way he touched me when he came in here yesterday. His breath against my skin. The way he kissed me, so rough and forceful. I’ve never felt anything like it. He’s powerful, and while it’s scary as hell, it’s also one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen.
Goosebumps spread over my skin and I find my hand slipping down between the sheets and finding my center. I’m already so wet. Why does he have this insane power over me? What I wouldn’t give to feel his hands on my body just one more time. I’m sure I’ll get him out of my system after that.
His hazel eyes flash in my mind as my fingers rub slow, agonizing circles over my clit. I let out a low groan, not wanting to be heard. “God, yes,” I moan, picking up my pace and wishing for something much better than my fingers.
A loud, amused scoff comes from the corner of my room and my eyes fly open. What the fuck was that? I fly up in bed, pulling the comforter with me to cover all the important bits to find Colton casually relaxed back into the armchair in the corner of my room, watching the whole fucking show.
Fuck. I just dropped my damn towel and strutted across my room then touched myself. Fuck my life.
What is his fucking problem?
“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?” Colton murmurs, his voice dangerously low and tortured, almost as though he’s struggling to remain in the armchair. “My hands on your body, my hard cock pushing up in between those sweet legs.”