Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Huh, I did say that, didn’t I?
“You pointed out that I loved nighttime and the tree outside my bedroom window and how it made noises in a breeze,” she says, “and you reminded me that I liked to sneak around and loved to see new things.”
Yeah, by the time we were fourteen, I knew everything about Dylan.
I run my hands down her hair, smoothing out the remaining soap.
“And then you snuck me out of the house that night.” Her voice sounds like she’s smiling. “Took me to Blackhawk Lake, and we shared sips of your dad’s Jägermeister, while we laid in the snow. We listened to the winter wind sweep through the bare, black branches that stretched up into the night sky. I heard the creaking sound of the wood that I never noticed in the summer, because I only hear the leaves rustling or the birds singing.” She drops her head, slowly rubbing the soap off her hands. “But when they’re gone in the winter, you can hear the icicles. See the way they shimmer in the moonlight and how scary the quiet is.”
I don’t remember telling her any of that. Guess the Jäger was a good idea, after all.
“Or you said to just smile to change my perspective,” she adds. “You said if you smile, something is already more beautiful because you’re looking at something with kind eyes.”
Definitely sounds like something weird I would’ve said when I was that age.
“I started to understand that’s why you had your headphones on so much back then. Music makes things beautiful too.”
I slow my hands on her hair. My dad was always on my case for shutting out the world with those headphones.
But…
“You’ve been practicing making something beautiful in your head for a long time, haven’t you?” she asks me. “And it worked, until it didn’t anymore.”
A lump seizes my throat.
She’s right.
I don’t think I even realized what I was doing back then until she said it just now, but the headphones helped me love the world around me. It set my mood. I needed them a lot.
Eventually, though, they weren’t enough. I had to leave.
She turns her face a little. “Can I turn around now?”
I’m still hard.
“Your eyes will be kind,” she says in almost a whisper, and I realize she’s nervous about me seeing her too.
I clasp her upper arm, nudging her around to face me.
Our eyes meet, but not for long. Her gaze trails down my chest, and the closer she gets, the harder I become.
She licks her lips and inhales deep as she takes me in, and in the inches between our bodies, I soak her up. I take my time because she’s letting me.
Droplets of water dot her breasts, making it look like sweat, and I know the curve of her waist would fit my hand perfectly. I lower my gaze to her flat tummy and the thin strip of hair between her legs.
I frown.
It doesn’t grow like that. She’s getting waxed. Why?
My mom has been very vocal that she only endures that hardship for my dad’s sake.
I relax, though. She says no one has ever seen her naked, so I know it’s not for a boyfriend.
“Do you ever rub one out?”
I shoot my eyes back up to hers, processing her question.
Rub one out? Do I ever masturbate? Is she kidding?
I arch a brow, and she chuckles, rolling her eyes at herself. “I mean, how often do you rub one out?”
I laugh, rubbing my jaw. “A…a lot,” I finally reply. “You?”
Her cheeks get rosy, and she looks away shyly. “A lot.”
My chest swells with a hundred fucking emotions. I can’t believe we’re talking about this.
She turns to the wall, propping her foot up on the ledge and grabbing her razor, running it up her leg. I can’t take my eyes off the curve of her ass, her toned thigh, the water spilling down her body. She sees me looking, her gaze falling to my dick again. She opens her mouth, looks at me, closes it, and then opens it again. “Can I…?”
But she doesn’t finish her question.
“What?” I press.
She shakes her head, looking away again. “Nothing.”
What was she going to ask? If she could touch it?
I skim her body with my eyes again. She let me wash her hair. Maybe she’ll let me watch her touch herself.
“What?” she asks.
I look up, realizing she’s staring at me. I need to get out of here. I grab the towel over the rod and open the curtain. “Nothing.”
I wrap the towel around my waist and step out.
She finishes and shuts off the shower, following me out. “Are you going to do it tonight?” she asks.
“What?”
She doesn’t reply, and I look at her, waiting. Something mischievous lights in her eyes, and she glances to my dick again, now covered with the towel.