Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
I turned around and went right back inside, filter be damned.
She's making me come apart at the seams. I've jerked off thinking about her so many times that I shouldn't be able to get hard for a year, yet every time she moves a muscle, my cock stands at attention in seconds.
And the worst part is, Laurie doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s just living. Painting her nails on the back porch, wandering around in those tiny pajama shorts she wears at night, sprawled across the couch sketching with her iPad.
Meanwhile, I'm losing sleep, losing focus, losing my fucking mind. If I don't get a handle on this obsession, I'm going to do something stupid, I just know it.
By day five, something shifts in Laurie again. Gone is the casual breeziness she's been treating me with up until this point, and now she's sticking herself in my orbit like she belongs there. Even when I’m doing something as simple as watching soccer, she’s there, radiant with her hair down and not a shred of makeup on, offering me a sweating glass of sweet tea like a peace offering.
I accept it warily. "You like soccer?"
"Not really," she admits, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. "But I figured I'd give it a try. Got to expand my horizons, right? Try new things, make risky decisions."
Her voice is light, but when she turns her gaze on me, lids low and eyes heated, I'm hit with such a wave of desire that I'm dumbfounded. She stays there for the entire game, asking the occasional question and making it damn near impossible to pay the match any attention.
As the match wraps up, she stands, announcing that she’s going to bed, but not before stopping next to me. She leans over, her hand brushing my shoulder and her voice low and soft in my ear. "Did you ever play soccer?"
For one wild second, I almost turn my head to kiss her, but I clench my jaw. "No."
"Too bad," she sighs, standing up straight again. "That would have been fun to watch.”
She's doing all of this on purpose. She has to be. No woman on the planet can be this seductive by accident.
I hear the crash first, and then Laurie's yelp coming from upstairs.
I practically vault over the back of the couch to rush up the stairs. When I throw open her door, heart hammering in my chest, I find her next to a toppled-over step ladder, paintbrush in hand.
"I'm okay," she says, her voice breathless. "I slipped off the first step and knocked it over."
Christ. She’s just painting, that’s all. She’s not hurt.
One wall is finished, a rich, golden hue that glows under the lights. The rest of the walls are pale pink, decorated with awards, pictures, posters, and other teenage treasures.
"What is this?"
She blinks, a little color staining her cheeks as she gestures to the finished wall. "Just...something I thought would look nice."
"It does," I say, stepping closer. "But why?"
She shrugs, picking at the dried paint on her brush. "If I'm going to be an adult living with my mom, I at least want to be an adult with an adult room. Not...this."
She waves her hand around the space, and I know what she means. It was a typical teenager's room, a shrine to her youth. All the things that had once been important to her were on display, but now she’s different. A woman, not a little girl.
Laurie looks self-conscious for the first time since I'd met her, and I hate it. "It's a good color. Really." And then, despite my better judgment, I add, "Do you want me to do the edges for you, so you don't have to get on the ladder again?"
She gives me a surprised look. "Really?"
"I'm already up here. Might as well."
The work is simple, but the company is something else. I feel her eyes on me the entire time and the electricity sparking from where her fingers brush mine as she hands me brushes and cups of paint.
"I think you should paint your room like this," she says, watching me climb down the ladder, "You could use a little color."
"I'm not painting my room gold," I snort.
"Gold is too bold," she agrees. "But maybe a nice muted yellow? With gray sheets and some houseplants to bring in a little green…” She trails off before her expression becomes completely earnest. "But anyway. Thank you, Adam, for helping me. I really appreciate it."
"Sure," I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Laurie's tone goes teasing. "You know, you're the only man I've ever had in here."
I'm buried under a barrage of questions I want to ask her, but I manage to push most of them down. I know that Laurie was a virgin the night we slept together, but she's never had anyone in her room? She's fucking stunning. But I can't say that, so instead I just motion to the massive amounts of cheerleading awards hung on the walls.